Coming Apart

I had been to a book signing in downtown Toronto and it was a particularly rainy night, marked by sudden downpours and ominous rumblings.

“Let’s go for a drink,” Melody suggested, and I foolishly agreed. Melody Bride’s my book shepherd, literary agent and close friend, but of course the lines sometimes blur, and then, she becomes my confidante.

We ended up as we often do at the Rooftop Lounge at The Park Hotel and found a cosy table not far from the fire, but with a lovely view of colored lights winking in the rainy chill outside.

I ordered a whiskey sour and she a Pinot Noir and we commiserated about the foibles and follies of the writing life—and in an ironic twist, somewhere between the second round and ordering a third, her cell went off and she was called away, ‘for an hour,’ she promised me—gone to pick up the latest edits of my book.

I was left with rain trails trilling down the windowpane and the blinking, winking moodiness of a Toronto night.

Fortunately, I had my Mac Air and was soon busy checking mail and wondering if I should take the opportunity to write.

I’m one of those writers who can write spontaneously wherever I find space.

Tonight, I was brooding about a story I was writing featuring a favorite character of mine—Astrid Simpson. I guess you could say I’m enthralled with Astrid.

In my mind I associate her with Astraea, the deity who presided over the Golden Age—until men became violent and greedy causing her to flee to the stars and become the constellation Virgo.

To me, she’s a real person and frankly, I’m in love with her. At the drop of a hat, I’d go on an archeological dig with her anywhere, and I fantasize lying beside her under the stars in the Land of Nod, watching the firelight bronze her body.

In this state of mind, ruminating on my fictional goddess, in walked the real thing—Astrid, or a reasonable facsimile.

She was alone, dressed in a dark raincoat, jewels of rain sparkling in her hair like a precious tiara.

There was only one vacant window table and it was adjacent to mine. She crossed the room, and gracefully shrugged off her coat, and then sat down directly opposite me.

There was a moment when her eyes met mine and I felt my body go cold and limbs begin to tingle. My breathing stopped.

You know how it happens when someone knows you—there’s this flare of recognition in their eyes and the pupils dilate? Well, Astrid’s huge eyes grew dark with realization. I fully expected her to say, “Hello, Jay."

Instead, she brightly smiled and said, “It’s quiet in here tonight.”

I found my voice. “It is quiet,” I smiled back, “You must come here often.”

“I’m a regular, when I’m in town.”

“Oh, then you travel a lot?”

An amused smile shadowed her lips. “My boss keeps me busy.”

“I should introduce myself—I’m Jay Randall.”

At that moment the waiter appeared and took her order.

We both waited until he left.

“Would you care to join me?” she asked.

I felt I was in a daze. I grabbed my drink and laptop and sat down opposite her at her table.

The first thing that struck me was how incredibly beautiful she was up close. Every strand of her hair seemed painted—gilded with a fiery luster. Her lips were full and pouty, but it was her eyes that captivated me and held me in her thrall.

Somehow, I managed to tear my gaze away, look out the window at the twinkling skyline and try to regain my composure.

“Aren’t you curious?” she teased.

“About what?” I croaked.

“About me.”

“Of course, I am. You haven’t told me your name.”

“Really, Paul—are you going to continue this charade? I’ll play along if you insist, but you know who I am.”

My heart was racing and I began trembling.

It’s one thing to believe your character is real—it’s quite another when she walks off the page into your life

To be continued...

© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved


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