A Life In Disorder

7 August

I was too confused to be angry, too angry to be shocked, too shocked to be totally appalled and too appalled to be confused....well, you get the idea. Numb? Is that a good way to describe what came over my whole being. So numb, that I drove home the twenty-two miles but can not recall doing so? It wasn't just a matter of feeling used, unclean or whorish, I felt lost. I felt cheap. I felt unworthy. I needed to get away, see where I was, what I wanted. I had to talk to Thom and see where he was, but did I genuinely want to? Colin? I could give a rat's ass about him right now. I couldn't tell Thom what happened today. I'd told him about New York, that was enough. Somehow I'd gotten the feeling he no longer believed the total coincidence it had been. I couldn't blame him for that. I didn't dare tell him what happened in the limo on the return trip from the park, I wasn't stupid, though it had come off as oddly pre-arranged. Everyone always thought our being together was some sort of long term pre-arranged plan we'd conjured up years ago - when? Who knew? Livi had thought as much - though in anger - when we went for the first conference. Once rational she had conceded there was no way for either of us to have plotted all the shooting schedules, meetings and changes in those. Well, other than mind control maybe. That we had stayed in Knightsbridge, I concluded, was a perceptively overt act. That was a given. We had agreed Colin had done thus much and he had admitted to interjecting it in the conversation. I'd acknowledged that I wasn't as sick physically at that meeting as I was emotionally. His staying at the flat; that just happened, didn't it?  San Antonio? Now I take that as totally arranged, planned out, calculating. It had to have been.

I was crushed, I was hurting, I was in a state of having to do something drastic now. I had to go away from all of this, both of the men in my life, to help me let go of one and reclaim the other. It seemed I had no other way out. Being here hadn't helped. Securing an office hadn't worked, had it now? The house? It only left that room still staring at me and calling me to traverse the internet for news, that I finally no longer wanted anything to do with, at the moment anyway. Sure, the posters had been put up in the attic and the magazines were in storage. The movies? No longer were they separated and placed in homage and honor in my computer room, they had been filed with all the rest we had acquired over time. Taken out even less than 'About Schmitt.'  If you knew me, well, that was longer than never. More on sheer willpower than actual functioning I began preparing to leave this all behind for a time. I was expected in Slough in ten days for the beginnings of the shoot for 'Eastbourne.' Hopefully I could make progress in my recovery before then. Thom wouldn't be home for almost four more hours. I had to find a place to go, to get away from everyone and everything and leave. Booking the flight was easy enough - travel agent. I already had most of my things packed for the expected venture, I just added a few more things to tide me over. Where was I going? Someplace I had never been with either of them, wouldn't remind me of either of them and I would have no access to either of them nor they me; someplace new and secluded........The Isle Of Jersey. I cancelled my flight from Austin to New York to Heathrow and made the necessary arrangements to get me to London on the prescribed dates.  Next I contacted my publisher, my agent and Working Title to advise them I would be out of pocket until that time. The last thing I knew I had to do was tell Thom. I had to explain my motives, my reasoning and my plans.

I stared at the paper in front of me. I knew I had to explain everything. I didn't want to use the computer, this was too personal to be done on a non-personal piece of machinery. I had to write it in long-hand, though I knew I would never get it completely right. I had to at least try.

Thom,

I don't know who I am anymore. I'm certainly no where close to the woman you loved and married all those years ago. I want to be her again, but I can't find her. I don't speak of how I  grew and changed over time to a more mature female nor knowledge gained in the process.

I found myself falling in love with another man, a personage, an actor. I let myself, didn't try to stop it. And when I had completely I had those same pangs when separated that I do with you. Was it possible to have this anxiety over someone I'd never actually set my eyes on in the real world? I found it was. Then I lost control of my life. I felt like fate or destiny drew me into a situation and won't let me out no matter how hard or what I try. Can I go back more than a decade and start anew? Never laying eyes on him and resolving half of this saga? Stay within the life I had or would it just happen all over again? I don't know, do you? You said to let go slowly. I guess I've lost the patience for time.

Right now I need to be alone. No you, no him, no reminders, I feel I have no choices remaining in this, emotionally. I have made arrangements as such for the days before I am to be in London for the movie shoot. I'll call you when I am settled in the flat in London. Consulting on the movie was not something I had originally planned, but now it feels right to do so. It will also afford me more time away from everything else. It is mine and I would like to see it come to life as I did the other. A nice diversion.

Thom, don't ever doubt my love for you. Understand why I am doing this. I'll see you in three weeks. Perhaps by then we can continue on our own path once again.

Pour toujours,

Diane

I sat and stared back at the letter now whereupon two diverse things hit me. I had come no where close to putting what I had wanted to say in it and; of all things, would I be where I was if I hadn't 'found' Colin? I stopped myself from speculating on the implications to my writing career, sealed the envelope and sat it on the dining room table where I knew he would see it when he got home. I carried my bags out and settled them on the back seat of my car, walked back to the front of the house and closed the doors behind me.

Somehow I knew I wouldn't sleep on the trip over; Austin-New York Kennedy, Kennedy to Gatwick, Gatwick to Jersey. I wouldn't find solace in the guest house that had been so carefully chosen in haste. I was overtired, wound up, pacing. I couldn't sleep on the trip or now. I would have to figure a way to get some rest. I'd never be able to work on myself without doing so sometime in the not too distant future....like now. No television, no music, no DVD player. I had to make it a clean break from Colin; especially when I came here or it certainly defeated the purpose. Music, my solace for so long, had become a constant reminder in any song that played. The cases containing all my entertainment paraphernalia were sent on to the hotel in London and being held until I got there. Nice arrangement they had agreed to.  All the music tended to take me back to something; good or bad, along the way. I had contemplated bringing some. What would have been the harm of it? I was madder than hell at him anyway. It was actually making me think on him a lot less wasn't it? How could he have ever done this to me...and for so long? Things were whirling and not making sense. The only extra things I had here were the items I needed because I had anticipated being able to write. I'd brought several of my favorite writing pads. Just ordinary five by seven steno tablets you could purchase anywhere. I had always used them and saw no reason to vary just because I was published. They were one of the few stable, reliable things I had right now, why change? I knew my thoughts were rambling as I dropped my suitcases just inside the door and found my way to the bedroom as exhaustion hit suddenly. It was late anyway and I now had only wasted twenty-four hours. That gave me eight days to mull and contemplate and write if the mood struck. All of it could wait until the morning.

I was rudely awakened by the sun filtering into my eyes through the slats of the window blinds. Whoever had set the room up hadn't closed them completely for my arrival. It appeared to be quite early, though after sunrise. I had no idea what time it was. My brain was still back in Texas sometime after midnight. I flopped back onto my pillow and pulled the sheet over my head. I only had a few minutes to recognize that this was it, I wouldn't get back to sleep now. I got up, walked over to the window and pulled the blinds up fully to reveal a beautiful view of the channel and the slight mountains just outside. I faintly remembered someone mentioning, last night on my arrival, that the coast of France could be seen from the top of the peaks on a clear day. Now there was someplace I hadn't been since High School. Though as I thought I deemed the observation somewhat ludicrous. I was on the southern part if this island, wasn't I? France would be east or northeast, I just shrugged, who knew? I let go the blind pull and turned my back leaning into the wall, stretched my arms and looked around. Not bad. The travel agent had done a great job. Having had rest I decided to explore my short-term home away from home and walked out of the bedroom. Nice....more than nice. It was huge, well, I supposed it was.  The place was modern, done in creams and such complimentary colors as were required. Not overdone. Perfect, well almost. There was a television, however, I was not obliged to use it. No phone though, that I could see.  I had my cell if I found it really necessary to contact anyone, and I was sure I wouldn't find reason. My personal purgatory was turning out to be not so bad after all. Well the temporary housing wasn't, the rest remained to be seen.

After a shower, a croissant and tea and some minor unpacking it was time to see what I could do to start sorting through my life, the baggage, how to unload some of it. I grabbed a tablet, a pen and headed out of the apartment in the direction of those not so distant hills I'd seen from my window. I'd chosen to walk along the beach instead of hiring a cab or catching an erstwhile tourist bus. I did remember a hat, sunglasses and sunscreen. What I forgot was the ocean and it's significance in my life. It soon came back to haunt my brain and emotions as I strolled along, barefoot in the waves. How stupid had I been to choose a place like this anyway?  I moved back up the beach, spun back towards the water then sat dejected in the sand. There it was, or they all were. The very location I found myself in was one giant reminder of Colin; of things past. Small dunes with little pathways between, a jetty of rocks - San Antonio. A lighthouse out in the channel was clearly visible - Eastbourne.  The cliffs and the jetty, the roses crashing but not separating. The novel or reality? Colin was, in fact, my model for Giles. The roses in the book were an intentional symbol. Christ. I sat there in an upright fetal position, my knees pulled up and held in place by my arms. I started rocking on my butt, searching around with my head in every direction. I was making sure no one else was around as I struggled to hold back too much emotion. I'd decided on the trip over I had invested far too much of that on him already. But I was losing this battle. I felt like I was having a nightmare that refused to let me wake up until it's ugly sordid conclusion. I put my head down realizing the mistake of venue. It was too late now to go elsewhere. London in seven days. What was I thinking when I decided I could placate all this in seven days that hadn't been resolved in almost seven times as many months?  I sat, trying not to think for awhile until people, mostly other tourists, began filtering onto the beach for a pleasant day in the sun.  My day already was unpleasant and I didn't stay in one spot in the sun for too long anyway. I gathered my belongings, got up and decided to climb one of those not so distant hills. Maybe I could see France from on top. Maybe I could think of when I was there in my teens. Maybe a story would start in my head and I would be distracted. Maybe not.

It took an hour to climb and two minutes to find shade. I dropped my writers gear near a tree and walked further out towards the edge as far as I could go. I turned northwest. Knew what was in that direction. I suddenly got angry. Angrier than I had been in years, probably close to twenty when I had been so deeply hurt before. Then I screamed. I don't know where it came from. I rarely scream because my vocal chords are wont to allow much more than a squeak. But this was a full blown, ear shattering scream. I scared myself, but I knew I had just awoken from my nightmare. Fuck him. I didn't give a shit if he rotted in hell now. Two could do this. I as well as him. If that's how he really felt about me, had lied to me all those times we'd had those serious talks, then fuck him. Who was he anyway? Just another guy exiting a relationship he'd found only as a convenience when the wife was away. Hell, even when the wife wasn't away. God, what an idiot I had been. It had all meant so much to me, but I was taking my blinders off.

"You enjoyed it didn't you?"

"That's not my point."

"What exactly is your point then?"

 "Fuck all."

"Look, we both enjoyed the shag..guaranteed. I expected it would happen when I headed over to your office. I dare say you knew it as soon as I arrived. After New York I was more than certain it would happen anytime I came around you, no matter the location or circumstance. I do appreciate it."

Now hate was about to take over. All those women world wide never, nor would ever know the other side of the man. I wouldn't do that. Almost instantly my concerns on how I would cope with the break seemed unnecessary, I had gotten past stage one. As I made a 360 turn and looked over the island, the ocean, the beach, it all felt good. I started focusing on Thom. All the times we had been to the beach, the ocean, the gulf, in mountains.....been together. I walked back to my notebook and began writing. I sat there, standing occasionally to get feeling back in my derriere, then reclaimed the small piece of earth that had become the studio where I was writing a new novel. I saw the whole story in my head. Without interference in London I was certain this one would pan out before I returned home. I would have the time. I could write almost anytime, anywhere. Colin - who cared? Not seeing him would be easy, especially since I had no desire to do so. Avoid Islington, that would be more than effortless and besides, Tim had informed me that he had a new film starting anyway. He only told me because he thought I might want to see Colin before we started shooting. That he was going to be out-of-pocket when I was going to be on his turf pleased me no end. I stretched my legs and arms, rubbed my bottom and returned to my writing. Yes, this was going to be different than the other two, different genre, though still a fiction, and veiled. It was easy to name the new work -  "Allusions To Friendship."