.jpg)
Photo credit: @vaughndemont
03 January 2006
It was a cold and foggy day, the snow had all but melted and the air was thick with moisture. It was the kind of day that makes you want to curl up with a mug of something warm and hibernate.
But she was out there, waiting. It was their special place, their secret. Nobody went down the old, rickety pier anymore, the thin chain was enough to deter most, except for her. And him.
As she looked out over the grey, solemn lake a sense of unease filled her mind. What if someone found out? What if they were caught? Unlikely, there was no-one around when she had arrived and not a soul to be seen fourteen minutes later. But where was he? She had got there a few minutes early, admittedly, but he was usually right on time. It was completely out of character for him to be late. They couldn't risk any mistakes.
The fog seemed to grow thicker. She thought to herself that at least it would be difficult to be seen. She could barely see three feet ahead. But a sense of claustrophobia came over her. It felt as if the fog was suffocating her. Making her lose her breath. She couldn't bear it and felt the panic rise in the pit of her stomach. He had to come soon or she would need to go. And all the angst and heartache and waiting for him would have been for nothing.
She heard the familiar squeak of the thin chain and heard soft footsteps on the wood of the pier. At last, she thought, at last he has come for me. She peered into the fog, waiting to see the familiar shape of her love, wanting his embrace even more.
But the footsteps stopped. What was going on? Was this him? Was this her lover, her secret thrill? Why would he stop? She thought perhaps he hadn't seen her through the fog. She stepped forward, towards where she thought the footsteps had been coming from. Was he there? She couldn't be sure, the fog seemed to grow thicker with every passing second. She took a couple more steps forward, sure that she should be right in front of him, but he wasn't there.
Doubting herself, her mind filled with a mixture of disappointment, longing, fear, embarrassment and self-loathing. She must have been hearing things. What a stupid woman she was. It was only their fourth meeting, but she should have known it could never work out. What with his life. Why would he ever want to carry something on with her? She must have imagined the footsteps, the whine of the chain. She wanted to see him so badly that her brain invented what she had heard.
Failing to keep herself from crying, she slowly walked back towards the start of the pier. Her tears rolled down her face, leaving small, round pits where they hit the slushy snow. She felt worthless. It was now twenty-five minutes after they had agreed to meet. It was obvious that he wouldn't be coming. She let herself back onto the road, to trudge home in misery. She had been stood up. Not for the first time, either, but the first time by him. Why did she think that it would be different this time? What did she think was so special about their relationship?
She got home to find a small package had been delivered to her front doorstep. She wasn't expecting anything, feeling slightly confused she went inside, put on the kettle and started to unwrap the brown paper from the small box. It looked like a jewellery box, red and velvet. She opened the box and inside there was a note. She lifted it out and read it. Folded in half, in a neat script it said "I loved you more than you will know. I could not carry on. Remember me by this."
Underneath the note was a silver ring, engraved on the inside. It simply said B.L. 14-05-1978 to 02-01-2006.