The River

A very personal piece, the whole story represents an event in my life, a real event but shown through metaphor and story...

 

Sunlight gently caressed Tom's face as he arose from his dream; comforting him from some night ghast he couldn't remember encountering. Drifting into the kitchen he poured himself his “instant coffee”, drinking it slowly to make up for this gain in time. And this, he thought, is my life, wishing desperately that he could change it. He left the flats as usual, though the doorman spoke to him today, strange, as he never normally said anything. Who could blame him, seeing the same tenants day after day must grow tedious? But today he spoke; he said,
"Nice day for it isn't it?"

Tom didn't question “it”, why bother? Albert had been at the door for so long Tom couldn’t actually remember if he was real or just an old man paid to decorate the foyer. Tom was so used to the monotony of work, eat, sleep, he felt he shouldn’t spoil that with change of any kind.

 Autumnal leaves fell into his path as he made his way to work, leaves of red to blend into the mulch of the walk. Autumn for the autonomous, mused Tom. It was little things like this that made him smile, plays on words. He walked without paying to much attention to where he was. Down this road. Up that street. Around a corner. Into a person. No, into a lady,

"Tom?" She asked. The raven haired lady knew his name, but did he know hers?
"Rachel?"
He did.

First loves are hard to forget, seconds even more so. She had packed up her life in cardboard boxes and moved away with her family, back when they were both young enough to fall in love, and old enough to call it that. He hadn't seen her since. Like the leaves he could feel himself falling, back down to earth. And he let himself. She must have too, because instead of going off to her meeting, she took him for coffee. They drank and spoke, and old times flowed back into existence. Memories warming the cafe around them with old love's new flames. She insisted they went somewhere, how could he refuse? She was so perfect. Plus she gave no question over whether it was a choice or not, they were going to the park. To sit beside a river, like the times of bygone days.

Hours passed and Rachel came to life. Acting out scenes of holiday disputes, work related team building malarkey, anything to be animate. He listened to her voice, her movement. Her raven hair flew in the breeze, even as her words soared through his mind. And he realised he was living again. And for the first time in so many years, Tom was perfectly happy. While they spoke, weaving words and thoughts, the world had spun and the sun had crept slowly lower and lower. And as night began her long trek towards dawn, they agreed to meet again the next day.

 

It wasn’t long before the parting kiss that had lingered on Tom’s lips fell away with his frown. He hadn’t walked far, but a scream meant he was running back the steps he had taken. He couldn’t see her but he had heard her. And there she was. How she fell he didn’t know. The water was deep and fast. Tom couldn't swim. He jumped in to save her anyway. He didn’t know what to do, his arms flailing, he could just reach her. But then she was gone. He was also slipping, the river pulling him this way and that, too much water, and he couldn’t save her. His last thought being of her, and how he wished he could have done something...Something more, to save her.

The light was bright, yet gentle, caressing Tom's face. He sat up; no heavenly scene confronted him, and his demons were nowhere to be seen. Just life. It was always just life. The dream was fading, but this time it felt different, clinging to him. He drifted into the kitchen, and drank his cup of coffee, and mused over how instant things happen too quickly to be enjoyed, and that was probably why his dreams, like his coffee, were so bitter.

 Albert stood in the foyer, a life made up of watching people come and go.

"Nice day for it, isn't it?"

Had he said this before? Tom couldn't recall. He didn’t want to.
He walked down the red street slower this time, pausing at things that seemed too familiar, even for a walk he did daily, things felt the same. Not monotonous, but identical.

As he was late for work now, he thought to himself about his life, and how he rushed through his walk, and it, because being late for work was probably the worst thing that could happen today, ever. As he thought this a raven haired lady walked around the corner at the end of the street. No, not a raven haired lady.
It was Rachel walking around the corner at the end of the street. And it was here he knew. This point in time could be changed; Tom could carry on walking towards her and see her again. Love her again. But he had seen how that day played out, and in his heart he knew that if she saw him it would be identical, even if he tried to change it. He just knew.
So he did the only thing he could do. He crossed the road, and watched her pass. She walked past him with a spring in her step, not looking where she was going, but all the while not unhappy about that fact.
She was perfect, perfectly happy. A river of tears now caressed his cheek, and the play on words made him smile.

Author's Note

This is a V-personal piece so just please be gentle.

Reviews

[Mark Hampson]

I can see why you're on the course from this piece alone! I like the 'Deja Vu' touch and the decision to chose a different path a la the movie 'Sliding Doors'. Charming work! : )

[Rita]

I agree with Pakino, the metaphors string the story together.

I read this with my heart. That means I can't say anything other than Beautiful.

[Pakino]

I love the metaphor you used in the story. It fits so well with the characters, plot, EVERYTHING lol. Its really good I enjoyed it alot.