May 30, 1998
(Chris is 21, Claire is 19)
ONE: Something Beautiful Begins.
It was a beautiful, warm day at University. I was strolling down the crowded sidewalk, with my guitar strapped on my back and absolutely nothing to do. The end of May, and we were about to be on summer break. I was graduating with my three best friends next year, which I absolutely could not believe. Things were going by so quickly. Tests, holidays, girlfriends… it was like I couldn’t keep up.
My three best friends were hanging out with their girlfriends today and I’d decided to hang back. Being the fourth wheel was not my kind of thing. I sat under a giant oak tree to get some shade. The grass was cool on my legs, which contrasted greatly with the thick, hot air. I flipped my guitar around and started to strum a song I was working on. Where it was going, I had no idea.
“’Scuse me.” I heard a light, beautiful, American accent say above me.
My blue eyes traveled up the body of a thin, beautiful young woman. She was smiling down at me, her auburn, sun soaked brown locks floating all around her shoulders. She had pale skin, an amazing body and was wearing a black tank top, dark jeans and boots. Boots on a day like this? My kind of gal.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just grunted, letting her know she had my attention.
She giggled. “Um, I’m sorry, but I’m meeting a friend who goes here. And I’m super lost.”
“This place is big.” I bit my tongue.
“Very big.” She smiled, sitting down about a foot away from me. “Sorry, I just need a break. This city’s insane.”
“Where are you from?”
“NYC.”
I laughed. “Then how is this city insane?”
I could see her blushing. “Well, when you don’t know it, it’s insane. I’m Claire.”
My spine tingled when I shook her hand. “Chris.”
“Chris, you play guitar very well.”
I blushed like a twat.
It seemed like she’d completely forgot about her friend. We sat there for at least an hour, getting to know the perfect stranger we’d just met. She told me that she went to NYU, and was here for the summer to visit a friend of hers. She majored in singing. I admired that. I sung, played piano and guitar and still majored in Global Studies. It was just a backup, ‘cause I never had enough confidence in myself to think I was good enough to major in music. Plus, it was what my mum and dad wanted.
Claire was amazing, and there was something about her that I’d never seen in another woman. Not just that she was American. She was funny, sensitive, brave, and all around beautiful on top of her great personality. I frowned to the sound of a woman calling her name from down the path.
We both looked up to see Martha. She’s one of Guy’s two girlfriends at the time.
That couldn’t have been the woman she was visiting. I’m never that lucky.
“Martha!” Claire said, running up to hug her friend. They were about ten feet away from me, talking quietly so I couldn’t hear them.
I strummed my guitar to try to act like I wasn’t paying attention. I heard my name a couple times, and the words “really cute” coming out of Claire’s mouth.
There was no way I was that lucky.
They approached me, and I tried to act nonchalant. I just ended up acting like an idiot, scraping my elbow on the tree behind me. Claire giggled. “’Ello, Martha.” I said.
She smiled. “Hey, Chris. Um, so I see you’ve met my friend Claire. Do you want to join us for a drink tonight? Guy will be coming as well.”
I grinned at Claire. She blushed. “Sounds great.”
Martha nodded, and tried to pull Claire away but she stayed, pulling Martha back like a yo-yo. “Um, do you mind if I stay with Chris for a little? Just want to get to know some of the locals a little better.”
Yes, say yes, Martha. Please.
She looks at Claire, then me, then back at Claire. “Alright. You know where my dorm is, right?”
“Yup.” Claire lies.
I smile.
Martha starts on her way, and Claire turns to me. “My guitar is in my car. I’ll be right back.”
And so, something beautiful begins.
Later that night.
TWO: Women Like Charities.
"Come on, Chris! We're going to be late!"
I couldn't decide what to wear. The pressure of going out with a beautiful woman and Guy screaming at me from downstairs was getting to me. I looked over my possibilities again, and decided on my black "Make Trade Fair" t-shirt and jeans. Women like charities. Right?
Guy was dressed ruggedly, in a plaid t-shirt, skinny jeans and Converses. He was quite intimidating, but I knew that he did it all to impress the ladies. Inside, he actually hated flannel and skinny jeans. Of course, he had to laugh when he saw me. "That's what you're wearing?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No reason." He smiled and opened the door.
We headed for the tube, taking a thirty minute ride from Guy's place in Birch Grove, to Abbeville Cafe, my favorite place in the city. We were silent most of the ride, saying a few things here and there about our future dates. Finally, Guy let it out.
"How the hell'd you score a gal like that?"
I smiled. It was about time he asked. "She came to me. I didn't do anything... but stare."
"She really is beautiful."
I got a little nervous. "Yeah, she is."
Guy shot me a look, but looked down at the floor before I could cypher it. My stomach churned.
"Martha's bringing her little sister."
"What?" I chuckled. "Why?"
"She has nowhere else to go." Guy frowned. "I'm not good with kids."
"Neither am I." The tube stopped, a few people got off, then it started to pick up speed again.
"You're better than me. You and Claire should watch the kid."
"Guy!" I really wasn't in the mood for his crap. "Come on, that's stupid."
Before Guy could fight back, we arrived out Abbeville Road. The cold air hit us as we got off, then the hot air came back, walking out of the tube. We arrived at the cafe just in time. It was extremely crowded.
We walked inside, weaving our way through people, then saw Martha and Claire chatting at a small, worn out wooden table at the back of the restaurant. They smiled and waved towards us. I wiped the sweat off my forehead. Claire looked even more beautiful now than she did when we first met. She changed into a silver metallic tank top that draped low enough to see the top of her black bra, more dark jeans, and the same boots from this morning. We smiled at each other, exchanging hellos. I sat down next to Claire, not sure how close to get. I smiled when she scooted a bit closer to me, so our thighs were touching.
Between Martha and Claire, there sat a small, ten or eleven year old version of Martha. She looked incredibly bored. "Oh, Emily, this is Chris. Chris, Emily."
Emily looked up from her pink cell phone and nodded at me. I nodded back. Claire and I smiled at each other.
Without saying anything, Guy took Martha's hand and pulled her out of the booth and dissapeared into the crowd before I could do anything. Bastard. Emily watched helplessly as her older sister abandoned her with strangers.
Come on you douche bag, say something. "So, Emily, what kind of music do you like?"
She shrugged, typing away on her cell phone. I could see Claire watching me from the corner of my eye. "Well, telling by the way you're dressed, I'd say you're an *NSYNC fan."
Emily blushed and the blush spread like a drop of blood in milk. She shook her head. "No way."
I nodded, "Okay. Claire, what kind of music do you like?"
She giggled, enjoying the conversation. "Well, I love U2. Oasis, The Who, Cream, the Pixies, Echo and the Bunnymen, Kate Bush, etc. So many to choose from. Oh, I love the Smiths and R.E.M, too. Rolling Stones, of course."
God, the woman loved everything I did. "Lots of fantastic bands in there. Come on, Em. What do you like?"
Emily looked up for a second, smlied, then went back to her typing. She mumbled something softly, making Claire and I lean in. She said it again. "Prince."
"Ohh yeah!" Claire and I yelled in unison. I grabbed her hand, pulled her out of the booth and the two of us started to sing and dance to "1999", making a small scene. At first Emily looked at us like we had down syndrome, then started to giggle, and nod her head as we went through the song. It was so much fun.
Claire and I ordered two gin and tonics, then began to get to know each other. Music, check. Growing up. She told me she grew up in New York City, and her parents split when she was five. Learned how to play the guitar at five, the piano at seven. Loved music all her life. Been singing since she was three. She really did have a beautiful voice. But at the same time, I was trying not to stare. She was so beautiful.
I told her about my boring childhood. Growing up near Isle of Wight, and learning to play music around the same age she did.
For the next few hours, we went on and on about the joys of playing different clubs and meeting fans while Emily slowly fell asleep as the crowd around us faded, leaving just the three of us around two A.M. I didn't want to leave, but Claire wanted to get Emily back.
"Do you know where Martha lives?"
She nodded. "I have a key to her place, since I'm staying there."
Looked like the night was over. Trying to be a gentleman, I lifted Emily out of the seat as Claire kindly paid for our dozens of drinks, then we began to walk down Abbeville Road to the end of Franconia. Claire and I stumbled down the cold streets with the poor eleven year old in hand, as we continued our growing coversation. Finally, since my arms were about to give out, we arrived at Martha's. The place was dark, telling us that the two probably went to Guy's. Claire opened the door, I took Emily to the couch, and placed a blanket over her. "She really is a good kid."
"Of course she is. She likes Prince!" Claire led the way out of the house, and stopped at the stairs. "What should we do now?" She asked, laughing quite drunkenly.
I didn't say anything. All I did was press my lips against hers. We didn't bang heads, we didn't miss, and best of all, she didn't pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me in. I smiled as her hands tickled my back. "Shall we-?"
"Yes." Claire said, her bright green eyes glowing from the light of the street lamps.
THREE: To Your Room. WARNING: Sexual Content.
Claire and I walked hand in hand back to my place, pretty much silent. She smiles at me, I look down shyly, and we both laugh. This was it.
I wanted to sleep with her, but I didn't want the whole relationship to be over the next morning.
I have to tell her. We turn to my street, and I push us both to a hault. She waits for me to speak. "Listen," my voice is louder than I thought it would be. "I don't want this to just be a one night stand. I really like you, and-"
Claire was now the one to cut me off by kissing me. She was gentile, putting her thin hands on either side of my face. "I really like you too. This isn't going to be one night. But for now, can we get to your place?"
I kissed her on the forehead and walked as fast as I could down to my house. Suddenly, I heard blasting music. "Oh, shit!" I yelled loudly, my voice echoing down the relatively quiet street.
"What is it?"
"Phil. My roommate. He's having another party. Shit!"
Claire took my hand and we walked down the block to make sure it was coming from my place. I was right. Cars surrounded the front of my house, "Lady Marmalade" was blasting from our stereo, and the entire place was packed with people. "Can't we just go to your room?" Claire whispered in my ear as a few women passed us to walk to their cars.
I lead Claire up the steps, to the front door, and through the packed crowd. The sound was vibrating through my chest.. I could barely hear myself think. While Claire and I climbed the stairs, I noticed Phil out of the corner of my eye. Two women on his lap. They looked like twins. That was Phil.
Thankfully, my room was clean and adult-like. Guitars and thousands of CDs lined the walls, my dresser in the far end, and my king sized bed in the center. Claire made herself at home as I made sure the door was locked. She jumped on the bed, crossing her legs, and leaning back onto the headboard. "So this is where the magic happens."
I laughed. "Not much magic for a while."
She gigled as I crawled onto the bed, slowly making my way on top of her. Our faces are inches apart. "You sure it's okay I'm here?" Claire said, looking at the door as the song on the stereo changed.
I kissed her softly, running my hands under her shirt. She pulled my shirt over my head, and began to unzip my pants. The feeling of her hands so close to me was amazing, so amazing that I couldn't concentrate. I collapsed next to her, pulling her over top of me. We soon peeled each other's sweaty clothes off, eventually both naked. I penetrated her, as she grabbed the backboard, moaning and calling my name in pleasure. It didn't even matter how loud she screamed, the music was much, much louder.
We collapsed, panting, laughing, and holding each other in our arms. It was almost morning by the time we'd finished and began to talk for hours. "Do you think you'll ever get a record deal?" I asked Claire, while running my fingers softly down her hips. "I mean, do you ever think about it?"
My head was resting on her soft, pale stomach. She had one hand on my neck, the other stroking my hair. It was incredibly relaxing. "I try not to think about it. People think I'm crazy when I say this, but I kind've don't want it. I'm happy just playing music, as long as I can put food on the table, you know?"
I looked up at her, grinning widely. "We want a record deal."
"As you should!" Claire pulled me up so that our faces were inches away again. "You guys should be able to have anything you want. You're music is fantastic. Seriously."
"You really don't want a record deal?"
"Nope."
Her hair was all spread out on my pillow, dancing softly when the wind came in thrown the open window. She closed her eyes as I cupped her breasts, kissing her stomach, and running my thumbs over her nipples.
She got up, and headed over to my music collection. "Last girlfriend." She said, picking up a Beatles CD. "What happened to her?"
I sprawled myself out over the cool sheets, watching her topless figure roam around my room.
"Oh, that was a while ago. She thought I was a murderer."
"Of what?" Claire said, looking back. I saw 'Pablo Honey' by Radiohead in her hands.
"Her cat." I chuckled.
"Were you?" She was putting the CD in my stereo.
"Creep" started to play, and I got at least fifteen times more attracted to Claire than I already was. When I didn't say anything, Claire started to laugh, climbing in bed, over top of me.
"I'm not even going to ask."
"Good." I kissed her head.
It was single handedly the greatest day of my life.
After that, everything changed.
October 31, 1998
(Chris is 21, Claire is 19)
FOUR: The First And Last Fight.
My fists were clenched, I was tired, and my blood was boiling. I was miserable. EMI had finally signed us for a record deal, and my best mates and I had become famous. We were the band Coldplay. Phil was our manager, just like we imagined as kids. We played almost every night in London, and were planning a tour in the US. Wasn't this supposed to be everything I've ever wanted?
I hear the door open and close, and realize it's Claire. I'm strumming my guitar blankly, not really listening to what I was playing. She was light, she was happy, she was perfect. And I was about to ruin everything. "Hey babe," she said, kissing my on my head. "how was your day?"
My eyes were closed, and I set the guitar down next to me. "I can't do this anymore."
She stopped what she was doing and stared at me. I was practically coiled into a tiny ball. My eyes were bloodshot from not sleeping, and I was getting extra thin from not eating. Claire sat down next to me, wrapping her arms around my body as I fell onto her, sobbing. We stayed this way for what felt like hours. "Let's run away together." She said.
I looked up at her, her face dead serious. "What?"
"Come on, you're obviously miserable with your famous life, house, and accessories. So give it up! You were so happy when you weren't famous."
For some stupid reason, I got angry. Even though running away was exactly what I needed. I hated being famous. "You're trying to take it all away from me."
She looked at me, trying to see if I was freakishly joking. "No, Chris, I-"
"This is why I'm miserable!" I screamed, throwing a Jack Daniel's bottle at the wall, Claire flinched, frightened at my behavior. "You're jealous of me! You're jealous that I'm successful!"
Her eyebrows sunk, almost to her chin. "How dare you say that to me! You're singing miserably every night like some fucking circus act and you blame it all on me? Fuck you!"
"This is all your fault! You're the reason I'm miserable! The fact that you won't get a record deal say-"
"The fact that I won't get a record deal says that I'm happy, Chris. I'M HAPPY. Now you need to sort out your fucking priorities."
I put my mouth onto a vodka bottle. "Get the fuck out."
Claire had tears streaming down her face. She was flushed, and she looked tired. I just didn't care. "One day, Chris." She picked up her bag and guitar. "One day you'll realize you're making a huge mistake. With your life, and with me."
And with a slam of the door, she was gone. And I had just made a mistake that would ruin the next six years to end of my life.
December 12, 2001- November of 2008.
(Chris is 24 and 31)
FIVE: The Replacement.
We'd just finished our last show in England, and everyone loved us. Our shows sold out like crazy. We were chased down the streets like the fucking Beatles. But I didn't feel like anything.
I was completely, totally, and utterly miserable without her. Guy, Will, and Jon were worried. They'd been trying to get through to Claire behind my back, but I'd known the entire time. Apparently, they had no idea where she was. Like Claire said to me three years ago, she was happy. Happiness was something I'd never expierienced after her. She was my life. And I lost her. Now, I felt like my life was over.
I started drinking. Showing up to concerts, parties, and everywhere in between drunk. It was embarrassing for the other guys, especially since I was a ditsy drunk. But alcohol was where I got away from what shit my life had become. I thought about her every day, all day, and wondered if she thought about me. I highly doubted it, since I treated her so terribly. I took her for granted, and now more than ever, I needed her back. "Chris?" Guy said, sitting down next to me in our dressing room. "Chris, you still alive in there?"
"Unfortunately." I mumbled.
My eyes had circles so dark underneath them that I looked like I'd been socked in the face. I lost about twenty pounds, and didn't really know what to do with my growing hair, so I shaved it off. It was nice on hot days, but incredibly cold on winter days like today. "Chris," Guy said, gently pulling the beer bottle out of my hand. "Chris there's some celebrity woman here to meet us. You need to look presentable."
"Who is it?"
"Uhm," Will picked up a piece of paper. "Gwyneth Paltrow. She's an actress or something. Saw the show."
I nod. "Let her in."
"You sure?" Will asked, looking at me as though I had a second head.
But before I could say anything back, the door opened, and in came a younge blonde woman. She had a full face, bright blue eyes, and a very thin frame. There was something about her that seemed a little off, though. She greeted Jon, Will, and Guy as I just stared at the ground, blankly. Three years of my life like this. "Oh, hi Chris!" She said, directing her attention to me.
I looked up and saw a flash of Claire's face. I was suddenly back at University, under that oak tree. She was smiling down at me, waiting for some sort of reaction to her existence. "Hi." I said quietly.
Gwyn stayed there all night, and I eventually started to warm up to her. Why? Because of the way she smiled. I didn't see Gwyn in front of me, I saw Claire. I saw her face, her laugh, and heard her voice. Gwyn gave me her number when she left, and we ended up marrying. But what I didn't realize was that she most certainly wasn't Claire. She was just my replacement. I barely knew anything about Gwyn, and after we got married and had two children, she became this ignorant, controlling cold woman that I never wanted to be around. I never saw her smile anymore, so I never got the comfort of Claire's face in front of me. I missed Claire every single day of my life, and I knew I had to see her again.
November, 2008.
I was calling my agent Melissa for the first time in ages. I didn't talk to people I didn't have to talk to... in fear of the conversation turning to Claire or my terrible, miserable marriage. "Chris?" Melissa said, slightly shocked.
"I need you to find Claire for me. As soon as possible."
She was silent for a few seconds. "You got it."
November 4, 2008
(Chris is 31, Claire is 29)
SIX: Just Try.
Melissa did it. She bloody did it. She found out Claire was touring Europe, playing in Milan tonight. I told Gwyn I was going to see an old friend, which was actually true. Gwyn didn't seem to care much anyways, since she was still in love with the man she was going out to dinner with: Brad something.
We just both didn't care anymore.
I got off the plane and went right to the venue. No bags, no guards, nothing. Just the clothes on my back. God, my stomach was churning. I didn't know how she'd react. She'll probably have me thrown out. That's what I'd do if I was her. The venue was in south Milan. A small, warn out bar called the Bhudda cafe. Everything smelled like pine and beer in the surrounding streets. When I got there, there was a line out the door. Thankfully no one recongnized me. I wasn't in the mood to be ambushed. Sweat was pouring down my face as I entered. There was a pit down in front of the stage, then seats up near the bar. I decided to get as close as possible. The anticipation was enormous. Some Maroon 5 song was blasting. Phil was calling me. Shit. I didn't want the guys to know what I was doing, since they'd probably thing I was insane.
She doesn't want to see me, but I need to see her. Talk to her. Just try, Chris. Try.
Suddenly, the lights turned off. The crowd cheered I stared blankly at the stage, waiting for some sort of movement. Then finally, there she was. About ten feet in front of me, Claire was smiling, laughing, and waving at the crowd. My stomach was fluttering. She looked so happy, so beautiful. She was wearing a back t-shirt, black vest, necklackes, jeans, and those same damn boots she wore when we first met. She now had bangs, which made her look so much different, but for some reason, I felt like nothing had changed. Claire's eyes met mine, and I froze like a deer in headlights. Her bright green eyes bulged, and I thought I could see them tearing up a little. She examined me for a few seconds, looked away, and began to playing.
That entire night, she didn't take her eyes off me. It was like she was trying to figure out why the hell I'd come. I just wanted to hold her, tell her I took her for granted, and I was sorry. I got lost, and I never listened to her. I didn't realize what I had until she was gone. I wanted to marry her. She was amazing on stage. So happy, so bright, so perfect. Her voice was so strong, but as soft as silk. Finally, after she played "All You Need Is Love", she thanked everyone for coming, and piled off the small stage. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go or what to say. I asked a guard where I could wait for Claire to come out, and he directed me to the alley out back. It was pitch black, dirty and dark. So I sat on a bench as people passed me, smelling like alcohol, and waited. I waited for minutes. Then minutes turned to hours. Finally, the door opened, light poured through, and out she came. She looked different. She was wearing a black and grey striped long sleeved tee, jeans, and those same boots. She froze when she saw me freezing to death on that bench, then came over, sat her guitar down, and sat next to me.
We sat in silence for a few seconds. It was terrible.
"Why are you here, Chris?"
I preferred the silence to that. She looked at me, and I looked back at her. We hadn't been this close since that night. I smiled. "I needed to talk to you."
"You're married, Chris. Don't do anything stupid."
She looked at me... with that same look she gave me the first night we kissed. It was there, it was still bloody there. We stood up, standing inches away from each other. I just wanted to scoop her up and take her away, far far away from both of our lives. But I resisted. "Okay, Claire, you don't need to say anything. But I just need to get this out. I've kept it in for three years and I can't take it anymore." Her eyes were tearing. "But I love you, Claire. And I'm sorry. Every single inch of me is sorry and I've been punishing myself. Punishing myself by marrying someone I didn't love. Punising myself by thinking about you every single day of my life. You're happy here, and I don't expect you to change anything about your great life. But my life is miserable without you, and will always be miserable. I took you for granted, and didn't realize you were there until you were gone. I love you so much, and I'm sorry."
We were both sobbing at this point. I felt like she was going to kiss me, forgive me, hold me in her arms and everything would go back to the way it was.
But she didn't. In fact, she did almost the opposite. She wiped away her tears, tried to pull herself together, and grabbed her guitar and started to walk away. Claire was still sobbing as she got further and further from me. It was like I'd lost her all over again. People stared at the two of us as I tried to get myself back to my hotel, wiping my red, puffy eyes with my shirt. She had to know, and I never expected anything in return. But I wanted something in return. I deserved to be miserable, and I deserved to be alone. This had to have been right.
When I got back to my hotel I went straight to the mini bar. Gwyn had had me off drinking for about a year now, but I couldn't care less what she thought about me. Mostly because she didn't think very highly of me in the first place. I drunk bottle after bottle until I passed out on the bed, still sobbing. Around three AM, I heard a loud knock on the door.
SEVEN: Reconciliation of Some Kind. WARNING: Sexual Content.
I had no idea who it was. No one knew I was there except Melissa, who I’d sworn to secrecy. They knocked again. I wiped my wet, puffy eyes and tried to act as tough as possible. I turned the knob, and standing in front of my was Claire. She looked exhausted, tired, and incredibly miserable. Her eyes were puffy and wet. She just stared at me blankly, trying to smile. I did the same thing. “I love you too.” Claire finally said. My heart almost jumped out of my throat to hug her itself.
She stepped in and I kissed her, closing the door as well. It felt so good to hold her again, to feel her soft skin against mine, her body close to mine, her lips against mine. Her lips were so soft and her tongue was like velvet. I kissed her neck, sliding my hands under her shirt to her soft skin. Claire was pressed against the wall, moaning, kissing and holding me as tight as she could.
We ended up talking for a while after that. Apologizing was a big subject. I didn’t really understand why she apologized, but she didn’t want me to tell her it wasn’t her fault. She was now laying on top of me on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around my chest with her legs straddling me, giving me an amazing feeling. I held her closely, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that she was here. She was finally here.
“Were there other guys?” I don’t know why I asked.
“Mhmm.” She mumbled. “None lasted very long. They all looked like you, too. Which I thought was funny. Not at the time, though.”
I laughed. “I married Gwyn because she had the same smile as you.”
“Do you see that smile anymore?”
“Nope. Just in you.”
She kissed me. “I didn’t know what I was going to do without you. These last three years they, they‘ve been the worst years of my life.”
I turned over so that I was now on top of her, pressing myself against
her. “You were right all along. I was miserable being famous but, now that I have you nothing else really matters. I love you, Claire.”
Her eyes were tearing. “I love you too.” She lifted my shirt over my head and began to kiss me.
We peeled each other’s clothes off, now safely under the covers. I held her as tight as I could without cutting off her air supply, just because I didn’t want to lose her again. She was here now, and she was here to stay. Yes, I was still married, but Gwyn and I were practically strangers. The last time we’d made love it was because she wanted another kid. That was three years ago now. And that ended with me calling Claire’s name instead of hers. She didn’t speak to me for months. It was pretty nice.
She held onto the backboard as I kissed her breasts, stomach, hips, thighs, and everything in between. I smiled proudly as she screamed “Oh, Jesus Christ!” louder and louder as I entered her. It was so right. Steadily moving with her, getting the most amazing feeling as I was looking down at her. Not Gwyn. Not anyone else. Her. Finally her.
I collapsed on top of her, the two of us giggling like we were still back in college. The next two days we lived out of that hotel room, barely ever leaving the bed. We were naked twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in the day. We ate when we wanted, slept when we wanted, and talked and kissed and made love when we wanted. She was the love of my life, and I knew what I had to do to keep her forever.
The next day, we flew back to London so I could divorce Gwyn.
The Next Day.
EIGHT: Telling.
Things were in absolute chaos. The guys thought I was kidnapped or murdered or something since they hadn’t heard from me for days, Gwyn was screaming at me for leaving her with the kids, and no one had any idea what I was about to do. Gwyn and I hated each other. We weren’t right, and I had to tell her that I was in love with the woman who was now playing with our kids outside… in case things got bad.
She was standing about five feet away from me. Her blonde hair as flat as paper, makeup filling the area around her blue eyes, dressed in sweats. “What, Chris? What could you possibly be wasting my time with?”
“It’s over.”
Gwyn looked at me like I’d just grown a second head. For the first time in a while I could see her blue eyes under all that makeup, she put her hand to her forehead. “What?”
“It’s over, Gwyn. It’s been over for a while, you know that. I can’t live like this.”
She looked down, outside, then up at my face. “I can’t believe this.”
For some reason, I started to feel bad. Terrible. She was starting to cry. Her crazy ways were working on me. I thought about Claire. I couldn’t lose her again. She was my everything. “Chris,” Gwyn said. “Please think about what you’re doing. A divorce? A divorce would be terrible for both our careers. Think of the
money I’d lose.”
The money she’d lose? Nothing about how she still loves me and wants to make it work. Nothing about how she wanted our kids to be happy, just her career. And her money. Everything was about her. “Yeah.” I bit my lip so hard it bled. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” She folded her arms over her thin body. “I’m always right. Now please take care of your freaking kids cause right now I’m really sick of seeing them.”
She started to walk away, and I realized how crazy I was acting. “No, no no. Gwyn, we’re getting a divorce. I‘m sick of you. I‘m sick of how selfish you are, how you party all the time and leave me with the kids then you‘re the one who‘s apparently left alone. I‘m in love, Gwyn. I‘m in love with someone who‘s not you and I‘ve been in love with her for years. You don‘t work, you don‘t take care of the kids, you just take my money to drink and party. I‘m done.”
Her sad eyes turned angry. “Fine, just realize that you’ll be losing a lot of money. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
The house I paid for. But I was so angry, that I didn’t care, so I headed over to Claire. Apple and Moses were running through the front door when I got there. “Hey guys,” I said. “where’s Claire?”
“She told us to come inside.” Apple said. “She said she was leaving.”
“Leaving?” My heart sunk. She must’ve heard me succumbing to Gwyn’s demands.
I told Apple and Moses to go play upstairs while I made them lunch. Instead, I ran outside as fast as I could. Down the driveway, to the middle of the street. Her SUV was gone. There was no trace of her anywhere. I stood there, in the middle of the road like an idiot wanting to jump off a bridge. Now a divorcee with two kids, I’d lost the love of my life. Again.
June 29, 2009
(Chris is 32, Claire is 30)
NINE: Fighting the Good Fight.
Eleven years. Eleven years since we’d first met. All this time wasted. All this stress. Nothing more to do. She was gone. For all I knew she was married, pregnant, and happy. Just the thought made my blood boil. The thought of her with someone else. How much she probably hated me by now, I’ll never know.
I had nothing left. Nothing. Gwyn made our divorce public and my life had because a living hell. Mostly because her reason for the divorce was adultery. Adultery. Yes, I’d slept with Claire while I was still married, but how many times she’d slept with other men? She was a hypocrite.
Two thirty in the morning in June, and I was in the biggest state of depression in my life. I’d basically let myself go. My hair was short now, since Guy forced me to get it cut. I barely ate, drank all the time, and just didn’t give a crap. That was the guy’s main concern. I didn’t care about music anymore. All I cared about was how stupid I was. How I was so easily walked over. How much I loved her, and to her, it didn’t mean anything.
Two thirty in the morning in June, and I was now sitting on my window ledge in Denmark. We were in a high rise hotel, so high that the cars down below looked like tiny glowing dots.
Two thirty in the morning in June, and I was considering jumping.
I had nothing more to live for. Paps were hounding my children and I, my music didn’t matter, and again. I’d lost Claire.
I’d lost her.
Sitting on my window ledge, I sobbed, feeling the cool night air blow in my face as my legs dangled below me. To jump, or not to jump?
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shirt that violently pulled me inside, making me fall to the ground. “Jesus Christ Chris!” It was Jonny. “What the hell were you doing up there?”
I curled myself up into a ball, sobbing. “I have nothing to live for, Jon. She’s gone.”
“Jesus, man.” He sat down next to me. “You’d kill yourself over that?”
I didn’t say anything. I just cried.
“I’m calling Claire.” Jon said. “You’re either going to drink yourself to death or jump off a building. She needs to know how crazy you’re acting.”
“I just want her back.” I pulled my knees to my chest. “I just want to tell her I’m sorry.”
A few minutes later, Jon was standing in the next room on the phone with Claire, while I had my ear up to the door, trying to listen into his reaction to what she said. He told her he was worried about me, and if she didn’t come to see me I’d seriously hurt myself. That might be true. He agreed to something, said a time that I couldn’t understand and hung up the phone. I sprinted to the couch and sat down as he opened the door, walking up next to me. “Claire’s coming.”
I smiled. “Really?”
“This doesn’t mean she’s getting together with you.” Jon frowned. “She’s, she’s just really worried about you. Thinks you’re going into a really bad state of depression. She wants to talk to you.”
“Well, talk is perfect.” I stood up and wrapped my arms around Jon’s shoulders. “Thanks, mate.”
Since she was flying here from London, her flight only took a few hours. Jon had told her the hotel and room number. I was so nervous, excited, and exhausted at the same time. I didn’t know what to say, so I contemplated just kissing her, and thought that that might be a bad idea.
Hours finally went by, and there was a soft knock on the door. Just like that one I’d gotten last year in Milan.
I opened the door to see Claire. Her eyes were puffy and red, tears
streaming down her face. We didn’t do anything. We didn’t say anything. We just stared at each other, sobbing softly. Suddenly, Claire reacted.
She slapped me incredibly hard across the face.
I was shocked, confused and sad. She pointed a finger at me as I held my burning cheek.
“Don’t you ever, ever, ever scare me like that again.”
I looked up at her. She looked so scared, worried, and happy to see me all at the same time. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to marry her. She was never going to go away again after this. Losing her was the most terrible thing I’d ever done, and I can’t waste my entire life acting like an idiot. Shit. I should’ve said that all out loud.
Instead, we just stood there for what felt like hours, quietly sobbing to ourselves, wanting to hold each other. I couldn’t take it anymore. It’d been eleven years since I’d met the most amazing woman on this entire goddamn planet. She had to be mine. I loved her, and I knew she loved me back.
She took a step forward, and I instantly pressed my lips against hers. Everything felt the same, even though it’s been years since that day we met in university. Killing myself wouldn’t have done anything, and Jon had done me the biggest favor of my life. He’d gotten her back for me. She was finally back.
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