index
archives
news

links
messages
chat

personal
e-mail

  someone 24-dec-1998  

     I wonder what ever happened to her?

     Silly.

     A few years ago, I met her. I was sitting on the beach at sunset, sulking my loss of prerogative, and there she came... the woman. My brown-eyed girl.
     Unwilling to sound cliché, I asked "So where are you from?"

     In retrospect, it was a rather stupid question.

     Despite my "line," we talked for hours, so long that our ears rang from the monotonous din of crashing waves. As we could hear one another no longer, we went to her room. After a nice dinner, we talked for a good bit more.
     It's amazing how, with some people, one can lose their sense of time so much that they've no idea how long they've been where they are. Sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes it's a bad thing.
     In this case, it was perfectly welcomed.

     We talked of our hopes, our fears, and as we watched the sunrise from a fourteenth floor balcony, our dreams. And as the ocean before us became dark once more, illuminated only by pale moonlight, we spoke of Jazz and Wine and the taste of rare prime rib.
     And we had it for dinner.
     Each, a twelve ounce prime rib, a salted baked potato, a bottle of Fetzer Barrel Select Cabernet and two Perriers with a lime. How quaint...
     So quaint, so "at home," so relaxed, that I even ate what she left on her Mikasa...

     We had skipped breakfast. We had skipped lunch. And that dinner, for hunger if not -- I'm obliged to argue -- the company, was the finest I've ever tasted.
     And for dessert, we took a calm, shoeless, moonlit walk along the water's edge.

     Finally, it was Monday morning, both of us a day late of where we should have been, neither caring. Being together meant, at the time, more than anything.
     Perhaps it's silly to go ahead and tell you that we've never talked to one another since. Both of us had this bizarre idea that "if it's this perfect now, how will it be when we meet again? And if it's fate, we will."

     What a hopelessly romantic idea. What are the chances that one day, we'll bump into each other one some corner of the wide world that neither of us have ever been?

     It's crap.

     But that's what Faith is all about...

     But even with that...

     I'm still not gonna hold my breath...

back to the index 

 updated: 10-mar-2000 copyright © mark steel publishing ltd.