Lawrence woke up feeling refreshed that morning, a glance at the windows in his loft letting him know that the sun had risen. Rising from the bed, slowly, he rubbed a hand over his face only to feel the sharp prickles of a full night’s stubble on his cheeks. He groaned, softly, and stretched his arms over his head, first the right, then the left, and felt twin pops in his shoulders, damaged from hours upon hours spent over the canvas, holding himself stiff without even realizing it. The morning was cool now, but he knew in a few hours the day would grow warm and he wouldn’t be happy. Lawrence, himself, was a hot natured person and preferred to stay cool at all costs, even sometimes leaving the windows open during the winter until small snow banks drifted in and grew on the gallery floor. His feet hit the wooden floor of his bedroom section with a thud and he moved around silently, sullenly even, as he prepared to empty his soul out with an apology.
The city of Genil had been ransacked by the man and he’d received help from most of the store owners and vendors in his off time, sightings of a woman who might be Chance leading him only to the blushing daughter of a farmer, a seamstress, and another man’s wife. The going had been so awkward, the prying questions and eyes that he’d received in return had dampened his pride entirely, but he kept going, trudging around the city at all hours of the night, knocking on doors and waking people up. His soul had fell deeper into his own personal abyss each night, each week that has passed and now, three months afterwards, he had made a breakthrough. In the days before this morning, he had narrowed his search down to an apartment complex along the river and luckily, just luckily, he caught a glimpse of the woman he sought from behind as she entered their front door. He assumed that she was living there because of the nature of the place, but he wasn’t sure. His plan was to go and ask, but a gut instinct told him to prepare well for this meeting. It might have been the only chance he had to prove himself as a man to Chance. Maybe never destined to be a lover, but most certainly desiring to be her friend, he wanted to make things right.
The large bathtub welcomed him into its warmth after he’d filled it halfway and he appreciated it for a moment, running his planned scenario through his mind. Lawrence would approach the Bella View and ask for a lady named Chance, or anyone matching the description he provided. If he couldn’t speak to her, he’d leave the bouquet of irises and lilies that sat in a vase in his kitchen as an apology. The next move would be hers in that scenario. If he was able to speak to her, he would apologize for his harsh words and explain that she was not a mistake, never could he consider her that. What he had meant was that his taking advantage of her and her situation had been a mistake. For some reason, as he thought that, Aries words came flooding back to him. Had she really been the one taking advantage of him? The thoughts in his head rattled around as he soaped up his shoulders, then his chest. As the washcloth brushed against his scar, a bleed-over from his previous life, he grew disgusted with himself. Of course she hadn’t taken advantage of him, he hated that even though he tried to think the best of people, seeds of suspicion were so easily instilled in him. He rinsed, quickly, as if he was wiping some enormous amount of filth off of himself, and wrapped his lower body in a fresh white towel.
Lawrence’s hair was wet against his back as he walked around the small studio apartment, swallowing some of the wine in his refrigerator to calm his throat and to ease his anxieties. He sighed softly as he caught a fragment of himself in the mirror in his bed area and saw that the hollows in his cheeks had deepened since he’d last looked at himself. His rugged cheekbones did little to hide the fact that he’d lost weight from not eating properly during the past months, it wasn’t as if he had much fat on his body to keep it filled out. He wasn’t a heavily muscled man, leaning more toward the lean, wiry side of the scale with long arms and legs. His body was built wide in the shoulders though lean and narrow in the hips, but at least ten pounds were missing from his physique at the direct moment. His clothing wasn’t neatly stacked in the drawer, rather, it flowed out of the chest of drawers and into the floor around the foot of his bed. Picking up a cream colored, long sleeved button up shirt, he pulled it on one sleeve at a time, buttoning it up so that only the hollow of his throat was showing. His least scuffed and painted pair of jeans slid onto his long legs next, a light blue in color. They didn’t necessarily cling to him, hanging loosely around the hips and legs. A pair of dress shoes lurked somewhere under the dresser and he crawled on his knees to find the pair of brown loafers that he hadn’t used in ages. They still fit, well, as well as dress shoes ever fit, but the long legs of his pants covered them up so that only an inch of the bottom was showing. Toweling his thick hair quickly, he removed the rest of the water from the dark brown waves. The artist’s hair was lush, but usually left unattended for the most part. It hit his shoulders in soft almost-curls as he drug a stiff brush through it, knowing that it wouldn’t stay in any style, but would take on a mind of its own as it dried fully. Wandering back to the mirror, his face looked nervous, like a teenager out on his first date. He wasn’t exactly the most experienced man with women just yet. He’d only known three romantically, the first an older woman that taught him most of the ropes with sex, but none of the understanding of relationships. The next, Chloe, had been a devilish woman, sweet and tart in all the wrong ways, apparently. But he didn’t want to think of her just now, he couldn’t let the past cloud his judgment now. He had something that must be done.
He tried on various expressions, a wide beaming smile that scared him, a soft smile that simply looked fake, and saddened eyes that couldn’t be closer to the truth. His soft lips were down turned at the corners, full and ready to woo the next woman in without him even knowing it, his eyes full of the hurt of years upon years gathered up into one moment. Hazel, almost eerily light greenish-blue with golden flakes looked back at him and he felt like slamming his fist into the mirror. Imposter! He shouted silently at the face that didn’t seem to suit him just now and finally moved away from the mirror, disgruntled and frustrated. Lawrence had never been more unsure of himself or what he was doing as he was at this exact moment in his life. Another frustrated sound passed through his lips but he pushed it down, numbing his own feelings, forgetting them with the intention to save another person’s emotions.
Lawrence left his Gallery just after daybreak, trekking across Genil by foot. His thoughts were unbearable as he moved, everything in him telling him to think of himself first, but his heart leading him by the hand through the white city’s streets. The trip seemed a blur as he body moved like a well oiled machine, never breaking the steady pace it had set. He moved gracefully for a man of his size, smiling at the few friends he saw, waving at acquaintances as he traversed the town. Soon, he was at the front door of an apartment complex with a cheery sign that read “Bella View Gardens” in fresh, happy paint. The place’s appearance almost perked him up for a moment as he stood in front of it, the bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in one hand. His eyes were hopeful, praying for the best though he knew he didn’t deserve it. With a deep, soul searching breath, he put one hand on the gate to open it but paused as he heard voices, one remarkably familiar. He moved away from it soundlessly and moved slightly until he could see the location of the voices. On a balcony above him, he could see the shapes of Chance’s legs and he felt his heart speed up in his chest. Should he call out now? Would that help anything? Or would she just run inside the room. A male’s voice confused him for a moment and his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes frowning along with his face. What was she doing up there with a man? The realization hit him as the two embraced and the man said something with a laugh. Jealousy flared up in him instantly combined with the hard reality that Aries had been right in his opinion. Maybe she just was a whore looking for a hand out and he had almost handed out his heart. A chill went down his spine as he glanced at the bouquet of flowers in his hand and scoffed, to imagine that he’d thought he could fix anything by coming here. One cannot fix something that is permanently broken, nor can they save a person who is corrupt. That was his opinion of her, seen through jaded eyes. She was corrupt, a woman with nothing to do but prey on men who had only tried to help her. He hadn’t even originally intended to fuck her, no, he’d just wanted to give her a home and maybe a fresh start.
Lawrence’s long, elegant fingers dropped the bouquet as he walked away, the heel of his shoes crushing some of the delicate blooms into the white bricks that made up the city street. Soon, the street was empty again.
"Are you going to tell me then, or am I going to have to fight you for it?" Andrew asked nervously. He'd known where Chance had been, hell, he'd made the appointment himself.
The girl looked up from her veranda lounger. "What do you mean?" She asked.
"You know very well what I mean." Andrew teased, "Out with it."
With a sigh, Chance pulled out a small note from the pocket of her jeans and held it out. "Happy?"
Andrew all but tore it from her hands. He turned it over and read it, quickly put his hand to his heart, "Oh Chance!" He sighed happily.
Chance laid back on the lounger again and turned her head away to look out over the immaculate gardens. Her hand strayed to her firm belly and she closed her eyes.
Earlier that day, Chance had had an appointment at the hospital. The technology was still rather basic by human standards, though to her it was still a wonder and then some, but there had been a proper midwife there who had put somethign called a stethoscope to her abdomen. The appointment Andrew had made for her was not only to confirm her pregnancy, but to check on the baby as well. Well, what more could she say? It was there now in black and white and told to be as healthy as could be. The note said everything, including the heart rate and suspected size to be that of a small orange. She was just under 4 months gone.
Andrew was close to tears at wonderful miracle. he fingered the note like it was something too precious to handle. "This is really wonderful Chance." he told her, "Truly. You're so lucky."
"I'm still a mistake." Was the reply, "And no amount of return will change that. he never wanted me and he won't want that either."
"Don't say that Chance. He'll turn to mush on you, I promise."
Chance shook her head, "No he won't. After what that strange man would have said to him, I doubt he'd ever take me back. Not now, not ever. And he'll never want this thing in me."
"I know that, but you told the unicorn, didn't you?" Andrew asked.
Chance shook her head, "No, not in so many words. Besides, it wasn't like he was in a talking mood with me. And after what he called me, I doubt I'll ever be able to show my face in town again."
Andrew put the note on the table and carefully pulled Chance to her feet. "Now you listen to me." he said firmly, "That man would be insane to let you go and he'd be even more insane to let this miracle pass him by. Now, I want to see a smile on your face. If I have to look at that sulken face ever again, I promise you I'll slap it round the other side of your head. Understand?"
Chance couldn't help it. She smiled, and then laughed, "You always know how to cheer me up Andy." She said warmly, "You're the best dad a girl could ask for." And she swung her arms around his neck.
Andrew laughed softly and swung her about a bit. "That's better." He said with a laugh, "I could get used to this dad thing. And I bet Michael and I will be the best granddads this kid ever asked for."
Chance held him tightly for a bit longer, but then broke away as she held the small, but growing bump. "Thanks." She said, then turned about to lean on the railings.
Andrew let her alone again, sneaking the picture away with him to show Michael. he'd been looking forward to this as much as him.
Chance stared out over the gardens for a short time before her eyes dropped and she saw something out of place. A bunch of flowers. Her brow furrowed, she left her apartment and went to collect them and put them back. Only then did she realise it wasn't some strewn flowers, they had been cut and bound together in a bouquet. Someone had been stood there, right under her apartment! She picked them up and studied them. irises and lillies. Her favourite flowers. Quickly, she looked around for who might have left them, but saw no-one. The flowers being directly under her balcony told her that these flowers had been intended for her, but who would send them to her? In fact, who would bring them to her? Certainly, she had made a few friends in the complex, but not enough to warrant this kind of behavior. Then another thought creapt into her mind. "No!" She breathed, dropping the flowers. She immediately ran for the gates. "Lawrence!" She cried, "Lawrence!" The flowers had come from him, he'd been there. He'd found her after all! He had come to take her back, take them both! He'd vanished!
Edited by: LadyRavenBird1 at: 8/1/07 11:11 pm
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