Elizabeth lay on her bed, watching the curtains breathe in and out with the wind coming through an open window. She'd timed her breathing to it. Slow, even, deep breaths. She should be relaxed, but every time she thought of him she tensed up. He'd been at the bar, nursing a bottle of something cold. Their eyes locked for a moment as Eddie pulled her close on the dance floor. Robert pulled his eyes away, put a bill on the bar, tipped the rest of his drink between tight lips and pulled his coat around him as he coldly and swiftly walked out.
Eddie noticed her attention wasn't on him immediately and stepped back.
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing." She lied. She didn't care if he knew she lied. Her mind wandered. If she'd been dancing with Robert and Eddie had seen her and stalked away obviously affected, would she care? She didn't know. She didn't know if she wanted to know. But she wanted to find Robert now. She should be perfectly contented – good looking guy, good dancer, who treated her reasonably well, was funny, smart, but no threat to her, and there was chemistry… and now of all moments she felt the sudden desire to solve Robert's life. And in the full knowledge she couldn't do it, and he wouldn't let her if she could, she pulled away from Eddie.
"I have to go. Please, don't ask. I'll call you some time." She grabbed her bag and coat and chased after Robert, leaving Eddie… (oh, who cares.)
Robert took his bottle from the bar, leaving the glass clean and empty. He swiveled on the stool to face the dance floor – the evening's entertainment. He quickly downed half the bottle watching amateur couples chase each other in circles. There was one couple who knew what they were doing and they clearly didn't have to think about it – their bodies moved together in unity. Robert took another gulp – dulling his senses in attempt to dull his envy, loneliness, oh, its just semantics. Who bloody cares what you call it, he wanted to drown all of it. Then he saw her. He let his eyes linger, assuming she was a fantasy, a mirage. But then she laughed and spun and he knew he was staring at a real Lizzie. He instinctively searched for who she was with… Eddie pulled her close with too much familiarity for Robert's comfort. Then she saw him, caught him staring – his eyes revealed too much. He looked away, skulled the rest of his drink and made for the nearest exit. Outside the cool air pierced his lungs. The semi-lit streets swum in front of him. He leant against the cold brick wall.
"You okay there sir?" the bouncer asked
Robert nodded and walked away. He made for the beach. The night was peaceful. And it wouldn't be good to go home – he wasn't nearly drunk enough. Too many thoughts would pass through his head before he slept if he went home now.
He was soon on his own. The noise of pubs and clubs seemed distant and lapping waves beckoned. Then the peace was broken by the sound of high heals running and a woman breathing heavily.
"Robert, wait." Lizzie's unmistakable voice called as he turned.
"Lizzie." He couldn't think of anything else to say so he left the ball in her court.
"Um, I saw you – and I, um… it's been a while hey?"
He raised his eyebrows in nonchalant agreement and turned to keep walking. She caught up, removed her shoes and walked beside him.
"Don't you have a date?" he gestured behind them.
"Not now." She answered hoping he'd talk cause she hadn't yet thought of an excuse for following him – and she had a feeling he wouldn't buy the long-time-no-see line for long.
"Elizabeth, I don't want your pity. I might actually enjoy a quiet drink and a walk along the beach… On my own."
She laughed.
He stopped and turned to her somewhat stunned.
"Sorry," she explained, "you sounded like Shrek, 'on my own'," she mimicked the Scottish ogre. Then cleared her throat and apologized again, "sorry, too much wine."
He kept walking, "You're charming drunk Lizzie, but why are you here."
She decided to play the honesty card, "I just wanted to ask you how things are going."
"Pretty shitty thanks. Being inspector gadget," he lifted one metal arm, "aint as fun as it looks. But you'd think, after the movie, at least I'd have better luck with girls."
"You ever thought about doing comedy? You know – stand up?"
"What do you call my job now?"
Elizabeth laughed, "see?"
"If I don't laugh I'll cry."
"You're not the one laughing Robert."
"Congratulations – you got your answer. Shitty. That's my answer. Life is shitty. So, how about you?"
"Fine." Elizabeth wasn't quite sure how to respond.
"How's Ella?" Robert continued, realizing he actually felt like talking.
"She's good – going through a princess phase – insists on wearing a crown 24 hours a day – even in bed. And I keep finding peas in her bed sheets."
Robert looked confused.
"You know, the princess and the pea?"
"Oh, right. Oh, maybe. I forget."
"Doesn't matter."
They walked for a bit in silence.
"Do you really want to be alone?" Elizabeth suddenly turned to him.
"No." he answered before he realized he'd told her the truth. He stopped to take his shoes off and walk barefoot in the sand.
"How's your recovery going?" she asked as he returned to her side.
"Fine. Textbook really. Boring in fact. I'd rather talk about Ella."
"Sorry."
"Na, you can ask. What do you want to know?"
"What I can't read on your file." Her honesty surprised them both.
"I'm as good as can be expected Elizabeth." He answered after a while.
"There's more to you than this," she desperately wanted to offer comfort, not just meaningless clichés.
"Yah." He obviously didn't quite agree.
"Look," she stopped walking. He stopped and faced her before she continued, "I don't know you that well –"
"Yah you do" he interrupted
"No I don't – I don't know what family you have, are you married? Kids? Where you're from or anything."
"So you don't know about me, but you do know me."
"What I mean is, I might not be the best – or most informed person to say this, but there's more to you than your work."
"Name one thing."
"I told you – I don't know."
"Well, what if you're not missing anything."
"I don't believe that." She said quietly.
"Well good for you."
"I'm trying Robert." She begged
"You can't help me."
She couldn't reply. He turned and kept walking, still carrying his shoes. It was his final statement but she took it as a challenge. She was going to help that stupid, stubborn, brilliant, arrogant, broken man who'd just walked away from her.
Robert half-hoped she'd follow him. He wasn't a fan of answering her questions – because he preferred not to think about most of the stuff she asked about. Meanwhile, her company was addictive. He was like a recovered addict – if he never saw her he hardly missed her, but one whiff and he was ready to do rash and stupid things for a taste of her. He knew he loved her – he was resigned to the fact and a masochistic little part of him kept hoping and allowed her to cause turmoil to his mind, emotions, body… the rest of him hated this little bid that insisted on loving her and not settling for anything less. The rest of him wished he's never met her – then he wouldn't know what he was missing – he'd probably be married, with children even. He might actually be happy. But this watching her, this wanting her, knowing full well it would only happen in dreams. This thing a tiny part of him savoured, it felt like it was killing him. Death from a broken heart might be a lucrative investment to Hollywood and Disney but death from loneliness was somehow much more believable. And not a little more frightening.
Eddie noticed her attention wasn't on him immediately and stepped back.
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing." She lied. She didn't care if he knew she lied. Her mind wandered. If she'd been dancing with Robert and Eddie had seen her and stalked away obviously affected, would she care? She didn't know. She didn't know if she wanted to know. But she wanted to find Robert now. She should be perfectly contented – good looking guy, good dancer, who treated her reasonably well, was funny, smart, but no threat to her, and there was chemistry… and now of all moments she felt the sudden desire to solve Robert's life. And in the full knowledge she couldn't do it, and he wouldn't let her if she could, she pulled away from Eddie.
"I have to go. Please, don't ask. I'll call you some time." She grabbed her bag and coat and chased after Robert, leaving Eddie… (oh, who cares.)
Robert took his bottle from the bar, leaving the glass clean and empty. He swiveled on the stool to face the dance floor – the evening's entertainment. He quickly downed half the bottle watching amateur couples chase each other in circles. There was one couple who knew what they were doing and they clearly didn't have to think about it – their bodies moved together in unity. Robert took another gulp – dulling his senses in attempt to dull his envy, loneliness, oh, its just semantics. Who bloody cares what you call it, he wanted to drown all of it. Then he saw her. He let his eyes linger, assuming she was a fantasy, a mirage. But then she laughed and spun and he knew he was staring at a real Lizzie. He instinctively searched for who she was with… Eddie pulled her close with too much familiarity for Robert's comfort. Then she saw him, caught him staring – his eyes revealed too much. He looked away, skulled the rest of his drink and made for the nearest exit. Outside the cool air pierced his lungs. The semi-lit streets swum in front of him. He leant against the cold brick wall.
"You okay there sir?" the bouncer asked
Robert nodded and walked away. He made for the beach. The night was peaceful. And it wouldn't be good to go home – he wasn't nearly drunk enough. Too many thoughts would pass through his head before he slept if he went home now.
He was soon on his own. The noise of pubs and clubs seemed distant and lapping waves beckoned. Then the peace was broken by the sound of high heals running and a woman breathing heavily.
"Robert, wait." Lizzie's unmistakable voice called as he turned.
"Lizzie." He couldn't think of anything else to say so he left the ball in her court.
"Um, I saw you – and I, um… it's been a while hey?"
He raised his eyebrows in nonchalant agreement and turned to keep walking. She caught up, removed her shoes and walked beside him.
"Don't you have a date?" he gestured behind them.
"Not now." She answered hoping he'd talk cause she hadn't yet thought of an excuse for following him – and she had a feeling he wouldn't buy the long-time-no-see line for long.
"Elizabeth, I don't want your pity. I might actually enjoy a quiet drink and a walk along the beach… On my own."
She laughed.
He stopped and turned to her somewhat stunned.
"Sorry," she explained, "you sounded like Shrek, 'on my own'," she mimicked the Scottish ogre. Then cleared her throat and apologized again, "sorry, too much wine."
He kept walking, "You're charming drunk Lizzie, but why are you here."
She decided to play the honesty card, "I just wanted to ask you how things are going."
"Pretty shitty thanks. Being inspector gadget," he lifted one metal arm, "aint as fun as it looks. But you'd think, after the movie, at least I'd have better luck with girls."
"You ever thought about doing comedy? You know – stand up?"
"What do you call my job now?"
Elizabeth laughed, "see?"
"If I don't laugh I'll cry."
"You're not the one laughing Robert."
"Congratulations – you got your answer. Shitty. That's my answer. Life is shitty. So, how about you?"
"Fine." Elizabeth wasn't quite sure how to respond.
"How's Ella?" Robert continued, realizing he actually felt like talking.
"She's good – going through a princess phase – insists on wearing a crown 24 hours a day – even in bed. And I keep finding peas in her bed sheets."
Robert looked confused.
"You know, the princess and the pea?"
"Oh, right. Oh, maybe. I forget."
"Doesn't matter."
They walked for a bit in silence.
"Do you really want to be alone?" Elizabeth suddenly turned to him.
"No." he answered before he realized he'd told her the truth. He stopped to take his shoes off and walk barefoot in the sand.
"How's your recovery going?" she asked as he returned to her side.
"Fine. Textbook really. Boring in fact. I'd rather talk about Ella."
"Sorry."
"Na, you can ask. What do you want to know?"
"What I can't read on your file." Her honesty surprised them both.
"I'm as good as can be expected Elizabeth." He answered after a while.
"There's more to you than this," she desperately wanted to offer comfort, not just meaningless clichés.
"Yah." He obviously didn't quite agree.
"Look," she stopped walking. He stopped and faced her before she continued, "I don't know you that well –"
"Yah you do" he interrupted
"No I don't – I don't know what family you have, are you married? Kids? Where you're from or anything."
"So you don't know about me, but you do know me."
"What I mean is, I might not be the best – or most informed person to say this, but there's more to you than your work."
"Name one thing."
"I told you – I don't know."
"Well, what if you're not missing anything."
"I don't believe that." She said quietly.
"Well good for you."
"I'm trying Robert." She begged
"You can't help me."
She couldn't reply. He turned and kept walking, still carrying his shoes. It was his final statement but she took it as a challenge. She was going to help that stupid, stubborn, brilliant, arrogant, broken man who'd just walked away from her.
Robert half-hoped she'd follow him. He wasn't a fan of answering her questions – because he preferred not to think about most of the stuff she asked about. Meanwhile, her company was addictive. He was like a recovered addict – if he never saw her he hardly missed her, but one whiff and he was ready to do rash and stupid things for a taste of her. He knew he loved her – he was resigned to the fact and a masochistic little part of him kept hoping and allowed her to cause turmoil to his mind, emotions, body… the rest of him hated this little bid that insisted on loving her and not settling for anything less. The rest of him wished he's never met her – then he wouldn't know what he was missing – he'd probably be married, with children even. He might actually be happy. But this watching her, this wanting her, knowing full well it would only happen in dreams. This thing a tiny part of him savoured, it felt like it was killing him. Death from a broken heart might be a lucrative investment to Hollywood and Disney but death from loneliness was somehow much more believable. And not a little more frightening.