At night
Next chapter! Huge thanks to EvilExecutor, max2013 and Drumboy100 for reviewing. This is a short chapter, far shorter than intended, but hey, stories write themselves most of the time anyway. Enjoy!
Mist drifted from the Thames and into the streets of London. It lay in thick layers, blurring the light of the lampposts. Casting a glance at his watch, Joe noted with concern it was getting close to eleven. Early enough to be out, sure, but way too late to visit lawyers. At least when he was not expected.
"This is just my luck," he thought, shivering. "I bet it's too late to book any decent hotels too."
The address he had found, praying it was the right one, was located in a fashionable area. The buildings were modern, with sleek fronts of glass and steel, but they still had an atmosphere of homeliness to them. He continued down the street, his attention soon caught by loud music. Flashing lights and dancing people signalled a bar.
"Hmm." Joe ran a hand though his hair, debating. "Maybe I should go in. Just for a little, at least. Till I figure out where to stay; I could ask a bartender if they have any suggestions." Peering inside, he saw rows of small tables, tall shelves with various bottles, people laughing, playing cards, dancing, making out. His hand just about touched the doorhandle, ready to open –
- and it was there. The familiar surge. Deep in his mind, or stomach, he wasn't sure. Instinctively, he took a step back, turned around. Went the opposite way. Steps quick, but fumbling.
"Have I really not changed?" he muttered. "Where was I supposing I'd spend the night anyway? Good god what an idiot I am. Would get there hungover and smelling of alcohol, like a wreck of a man."
Joe checked the time again; just three past eleven. Fixing the post-it-note from his jacket, he realized with a start he was standing at just the right address. The house was like the others, luxurious and no doubt expensive. The window at the top floor were slightly open; Joe saw light behind the curtains. And a shadow! Straining his ears, he tried to discern any noise that might float down to him from the little crack. He was rewarded only by distant music and the howling of wind.
He'd go back, then. Come here tomorrow. Just find some lousy, cheap bed somewhere. Would work just fine. No problem.
A raindrop landed on his shoulder, losing its form, and blending into a black spot. Soon another followed. A conspiracy of nature!
The shadow in the window moved again, came closer, drew a sharp outline against the curtains.
A conspiracy of chance.
Again, Joe felt the surge deep within. His chest tightened. A conspiracy of his own making! It was this, or going back. No lousy bed – it was all, or nothing! It was all, or ruin!
The few steps to the door were taken in one leap. Raising his hand, Joe knocked.
They had decided to get the biggest bed available. "Emperor sized", as Frank called it. It made the room look cramped. The sheets were always cream-white, just like Lucia liked it. She said it was elegant. Besides, grey sheets could be dirty without anyone knowing about it.
There wasn't room for much. One armchair, smoky yellow, and two nightstands with a lamp each. That was all. Lucia said it was best that way. Sleeping areas had to be simple. Distinct. Décor belonged elsewhere.
Frank let his head rest against the wing of the armchair. He had been sitting there, reading, since Lucia left a couple of hours ago. With view to the window, but not the street beneath it – the curtains always had to be closed.
His legs were cramping, vision hazy from too many words. He walked over to the window. The white cloth fell to the ground like an airy brushstroke. One could sense the counters of darkness outside.
Frank decided to wait up for her. He had known it from the beginning, of course, that he would, but hadn't decided it till now. It was nothing more than a stray thought, an acceptance of unchangeable laws. Lucia liked that he did, after all. Usually, she came in the break between night and day – with a foot in each – intoxicated from alcohol, and other things, but tired, so tired, deadly tired.
When he opened the door for her, told her how much he had missed her - the whole, long night – helped her upstairs, removed her necklace, earrings, bobby pins – her dress, too – held her, close, so that she wouldn't fall on dizzy legs, soothed her with words and caresses – as though she was a child – gliding his hand over her forehead, hair – many, many, many times – until her breath were even and the mumbled words ceased –
At those times, Frank knew deep in his soul she loved him. At least for a few hours, till she woke again.
With a start, Frank realised someone was knocking on the door. Turning on his heels, he rushed down the stairs – why so early?
No Lucia was waiting on the doorstep.