Conflicted Part One

The strands that connect us are frail—they will
snap if great weights are placed on slender wires.

“Phillip, are you ready? Your limo’s waiting.”

Victoria Starling was pacing impatiently in my foyer. Victoria and I are thought by the media to be headed for marriage, but even she doesn’t realize I still love my wife.

“I’m all set,” I smile as I descend the stairs.

“You look smashing, darling—the red carpet’s waiting.”

“I was off to Toronto for TIFF—the Toronto International Film Festival—and was not looking forward to the experience.

“Go knock them dead, but hurry back afterwards—Hugh’s talked me into throwing your birthday party here.”

Hugh is my publicist and is pushing me to marry Victoria for all the same reasons he persuaded me to seduce Sara Lissome and con her into being my wife.

“Ironically, I did fall in love with Sara, just when she discovered my ruse and fled without allowing me to explain.

I have no intention of repeating the same error with Victoria and besides, I’m still holding out hope Sara and I may reconcile—there’s only one problem—she detests the very sight of me.

It’s ironic how hope still springs eternal in the heart—just not in Sara’s.

I flew to Toronto and stayed at the Park Hyatt Hotel in the fashionable Yorkville district. I chose the Hotel for its rooftop terrace overlooking the university campus and the Toronto skyline—and also for sentimental reasons because it’s where Sara and I first met.

That night I sat out on the terrace with a glass of Pinot Noire and stared nostalgically at the city below. The moon was a yellow canoe riding in a cloudy bay and the night breeze was warm and gentle.

“Phillip—is that you?”

I looked up to see Sara’s lovely face. My heart began to race—and I could hear my pulse in my ears.

“ “Sara—what a pleasant surprise.”

She eyed me warily.

“You look lovely,” I smiled, falling into default and my old charm, “Will you join me for a drink?”

She wavered, just long enough for me to regret being stupid and impulsive.

She was mentally calculating and measuring the odds, but finally, gave in and sat down opposite me. I signalled the waiter and ordered Shiraz.

“You remembered,” she smiled wistfully.

“I never forgot. You know Sara, I wanted to explain my behaviour, but never got the chance.”

She shook her head, “I was young and foolish too, Phillip—I’m past that now—I’m fine.”

Her dark eyes still held sway over me—I felt grieved and needed to let her know.

“Are you fine? I’m not—I'm miserable, to tell the truth.”

“She looked off in the distance as if calling up the past. “Really? I heard you were planning to get married.”

“That’s the line Hugh’s feeding the media.”

“Oh, I see.” He voice was just a whisper. “Well, he’s very good with lines.”

Her words crushed me. They were meant for me.

“ “Okay, our relationship started out as a publicity ploy, but somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you, and I’ve never stopped.”

Her brow furrowed and dark eyes flashed.

“You say you never stopped—well, you did long enough to date Victoria Starling and cause a few scandals along the way.”

I felt helpless. I should never have listened to Hugh Carlisle.

“ “I’ve changed Sara. Everything you’ve read about me in the papers is just studio propaganda—hell, I don’t even date. Victoria is just for publicity—there’s nothing between us.”

“I wish I could believe that,” she said softly, and then sighed, “but it doesn’t matter. You really hurt me, Phillip.”

I nodded and stared down at the table. “I’m ashamed, Sara. I’m not the same man any more.”

She stood, a look of profound sadness on her face.

“You may have changed, Phillip, but so have I. I’m not the same woman.”

She turned and walked away.

“As I watched her depart, I felt I lost her a second time. But I made up my mind then and there to quit the studio and strike out on my own.

Grief has one benefit—it jerks the slack out of you and teaches you what is real. I know. I watched the most important person in my life walk out the door.

Now I have to see if have anything left—but without Sara, I’m not really sure I want to go on at all.

© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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