kelby_lake
08-07-2008, 02:28 PM
'So, you really are leaving me now?' Her voice trembled, quietly, and a tear formed in her eye imperceptible to anyone but Stephen. He'd seen those sort of tears far too much.
'Yes. You will be happy, won't you?' he asked her, uncertainly. Though he had to leave, Stephen just couldn't trap Helena in this miserable little world she had constructed out of a few memories. 'You have the memories,' he added pointlessly, as if this might comfort her.
'You sound like a rubbish pop song,' she laughed quietly, and then fixed her eyes on a photo of the two of them, taken in the city by a Japanese tourist. 'Memories- aren't they supposed to last forever? They're the only thing that lasts forever,' she mused.
Stephen had never seen her so sad before, and it was now that he realised what he had taken from her- a chance to be the person she really was, not some aging working-class woman living in the slums. The way that Helena transcended her tatty staircase, her slim hand running slowly along the bannister and her head fixed high.
'I can't leave you, can I?' Stephen concluded, watching the impoverished princess with her imagined grandeur, her blonde hair tangled and greying, lines spreading across her face like small cracks in a marble statue, and her cheap make-up applied quickly and inaccurately.
She smiled briefly, and turned away from him, gliding back into her living room where her indifferent fiance, her rebellious adolescent, and her adult son with his boyish awkwardness, gathered around the TV/DVD combi. This was her answer to him.
'Goodbye princess,' he called softly, and unlocked the stiff door, pulling it quietly, but firmly, behind him.
'Yes. You will be happy, won't you?' he asked her, uncertainly. Though he had to leave, Stephen just couldn't trap Helena in this miserable little world she had constructed out of a few memories. 'You have the memories,' he added pointlessly, as if this might comfort her.
'You sound like a rubbish pop song,' she laughed quietly, and then fixed her eyes on a photo of the two of them, taken in the city by a Japanese tourist. 'Memories- aren't they supposed to last forever? They're the only thing that lasts forever,' she mused.
Stephen had never seen her so sad before, and it was now that he realised what he had taken from her- a chance to be the person she really was, not some aging working-class woman living in the slums. The way that Helena transcended her tatty staircase, her slim hand running slowly along the bannister and her head fixed high.
'I can't leave you, can I?' Stephen concluded, watching the impoverished princess with her imagined grandeur, her blonde hair tangled and greying, lines spreading across her face like small cracks in a marble statue, and her cheap make-up applied quickly and inaccurately.
She smiled briefly, and turned away from him, gliding back into her living room where her indifferent fiance, her rebellious adolescent, and her adult son with his boyish awkwardness, gathered around the TV/DVD combi. This was her answer to him.
'Goodbye princess,' he called softly, and unlocked the stiff door, pulling it quietly, but firmly, behind him.