This is the beginning of a little fic I've been writing. It probably won't be more than four/five short chapters. I felt like Stuart got the short end of the stick in the book. His character deserved some actual closure. Please review with constructive criticism. I'd actually like know if you like my writing style.

Stuart

I walked away from her and drove until I hit the gulf. I sat there with my head on the steering wheel with the ring still gripped in my

hand. All of my anger had been spent and only hurt and regret remained. She lied to me over and over again. Lied. I'd loved her for

her honesty and her courage, but she didn't trust me. Was I only a distraction? A way to prove to he mother and her friends that she

was just as good as them? I'd been willing to be with her forever. I'd given my heart, my trust and been proved wrong again.

I worked on the oil rig. I worked until I couldn't move another muscle. When I wasn't working, I drank myself to a point where I

didn't care. I laughed at her and all her grand ambitions. I laughed at myself for being so naïve. The laughter was only a way to keep

back the tears. Finally, the truth came crashing down. I'd overreacted. I'd thrown away the only thing that would ever make me

happy. She was right not to tell me; she knew how I felt about the civil rights movement. She'd heard my curse them all. Every time

I'd taken my frustration out over Patricia's betrayal, I'd put a nail in my own coffin.

The next time I was on shore, I saw her book. That little blue book called my name. I'd picked it up and payed for it before I could

stop myself. Skeeter oozed from every word. How could anyone not know she'd written this? It was as if someone had washed mud

from my eyes. I was a bigoted fool; we all were. I'd seen things like these happen, but I'd never thought twice about them. She was

right things couldn't stay the same. I suddenly understood why Patricia had left me. She was attracted to a fire, a passion that those

who saw how the world must change possessed. The same thing that had made me love Skeeter.

I went back to Jackson two weeks later full of determination to make her see why I'd acted like I had. Full of a determination to make

her understand that I knew I was wrong. Determined to start again and prove myself worthy of her. I approached her door. I tried to

keep up my bravado, but I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I was an idiot to think she'd even see me. She was gone. Her mother

icily told me that she had been offered a job in New York and left a week before. Her words still rang in my mind,

"Stuart, son, my daughter is much, much too good for someone like you. So I'd appreciate if you left her alone and allowed her to go

on living her life."

She was right. I wasn't half good enough for Skeeter. She deserved someone with her same passion. What did I have to offer Skeeter

that could possibly compare to New York City? I only know one thing: I love her and she probably believes I hate her.