Pencil, Ink-wash, Watercolour on Arches, Cold-Pressed, Watercolour Block.
It was 3 months 3 days and, yes, 2 hours since our goodbye. Her eyes looked at me without emotion, no different than any other day except for the waterlogged lower lip. Louis-Ernest Barrias’s statue and I watched her walk up the stairs and out of the D’Orsay. I did not think I cared much about her leaving then, I found since how wrong I had been.
She had not seen me. Alone at a table for 2 she stirred her café au lait in slow motion. 5 turns than a sip, just as she did that day when I started saying:”It’s not you, it’s me!”…
Even thinner than was her silhouette, more fragile than melancholic demeanor allowed, her head leaned sadly. I stared mesmerized by her sleepy eyes and the frozen sad smile that was her façade… it is how I always remembered her, except, we were not facing each other across that table for 2.
Loraine was never talkative; well she was but not in a normal way. There were times we sat across each other for hours. We had a way of communicating, mine verbally, hers using subtle body language. A joke would be answered by a grin, a statement accepted with a nod, a flirt acknowledged with a blush, even a contentious suggestion questioned with a sideways glance and a quizzical frown, but with few words, we shared life in bliss and inferred comfort. Until that day when a letter from a friend in Australia mentioned the death of an ex-lover whom I always considered my only love.
I spent days unable to concentrate. Loraine’s presence was interrupting my thoughts My inability to purge the sadness took the pleasure out of having her intimate presence and she, whom I suddenly saw as a temporary distraction had to be cruelly dismissed. Even when I broached the news to her at the D’Orsay, her piercing sad look was not accompanied by even a murmur. Were it not for the tears wallowing in the eyes I would not have known! Her last kiss was delicate, her face hot with emotion.
And then she was gone and suddenly I wanted her back.
Characters in the story are fictional.