Sorry, part seven: Epilogue

Links to the rest of this story: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven I was fourteen when I first saw The Crow with my uncle at the cinema. Of course, I'd dolled myself up to the nines to pass for the 18 rating: full make up, fancy hairdo. I'd even worn stockings for the occasion, somehow convincing myself that it made me look older. Whatever the case, it worked. I sat entralled through the whole film; my eyes brimmed with tears, and as the film ended, I gasped as though I'd been holding my breath the whole time. The magic of that film has remained with me ever since; that tale of true love and hopeless revenge replayed over and over in my mind so that now I could probably tell you every word which was spoken. During the course of our "encounters", some of my enthusiasm for the movie must have rubbed off on Sorry, for he bagan to model himself on the romantic Gothic image. He grew his hair long, learned to play the guitar and even wore make up for big nights out. Could he have ever known that he had become my perfect man? It was a cruel twist of fate that I was never again to have him for myself... In the years since we had parted, so many other things had happened in my life: that doomed love affair with Fumitsu; the realisation of my Kunoichi ambitions, my academic career... and my emergence as a sauna "hostess". For some time, I felt happy and contended. As a student at university, I was doing well, quite proud of the fact that I had gone against the odds and managed to get myself there on my own merits. My son was growing strong and bright; luckily he looked nothing like his father whom I hated so much, but instead has such a gorgeous face and dark eyes which I can only presume he has inherited from some ancestor of mine I've never met. Money was no longer scarce: in one shift at the sauna, I could earn more than the average weekly wage; despite the work I did, I felt respected; my only problem was keeping my job a secret from those I loved. One Saturday afternoon, I was enjoying my day off with my son in the park when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Hello, babe, how are you?" I stepped back in shock. Of all the people I could have expected to meet that day, Sorry would have been bottom of the list. It was good to see each other. The years had faded my dissappointment; we talked for ages about our lives, our children, and the music which had always been our shared joy. "How about joining us tonight at the rock club?" Sorry suggested. I quickly agreed, since it had been so long since I'd seen some of my old friends who gathered there. I cancelled my shift at the sauna, feigning illness and telling myself I deserved a good night out. I expected nothing more than friendship from Sorry; a good night out, merriness and general all round rocker fun. It surprised me to see how many new friends Sorry had made: during those years he'd established his name as a rock singer and had gigged many nights at the pub in which we met. He'd become a success, and I was so pleased for him. The stereo played a song of his that years ago I'd helped him to write... "So, what about your little boy then?" Sorry started, a few beers later. "You know, he should have been mine..." I shook my head and smiled wistfully. "Now, Sorry, that's no way to talk. You have your own family now and your're happy. You and I were never meant to be." "I know," he replied. "But it doesn't stop me wondering what could have been." We danced for hours, all of us, old and new friends together. I asked Sorry why Maria hadn't joined us that night. Surely she knew I was going to be there, and in her shoes I would have been right by Sorry's side to make sure the night ran smooth. "She just didn't feel like coming tonight," he answered. But I wasn't convinced by the secretive tone of his reply.He kept catching my eye across the dance floor, and I tried to think nothing of it. It's just the drink, I convinced myself, Sorry's with Maria now. I hadn't told Sorry about the sauna, reiterating the story I gave family and friends that I worked the night shift at the University library. At least I knew none of them could catch me out on that score. But unfortunately, we ran into one of my clients in the club we went to later, and though I tried to hint that I wasn't "on duty" that night, the sod just wouldn't get off my case. Sorry and his friend, Andy, came to my rescue, and it almost ended in a fight. fearing we'd be kicked out anyway, we all decided to make a hasty exit and head for the taxi rank. We'd all been having a great time, laughing and talking as we walked, until I felt Sorry grab my hand and pull me back. "I need to talk to you about something," he whispered. He waited a few moments until the others were out of earshot, then stepped closer to me, so close we were almost touching. "Maria will be expecting you home soon." "I know." His fingers moved to stroke the hair from my face. I closed my eyes; this couldn't be happening... "I know. I should be getting home now. But I can't stop thinking about you." Cruel fate. I wanted him so badly, but I knew it would be wrong. I tried to back away, but then his arm was at my back, pulling me closer. I could feel his heart pounding through his chest, and then his lips upon mine. Hungry kisses... "I never stopped feeling this way for you," he said, "and I know you feel it too.." He was right. So right. "You know how I feel, Sorry. But I can't say those words to you again..." Not while you're still married, I thought. I can't say 'I love you' when you belong to someone else. Somehow, my common sense had flown out the window, and for the first time in months I was succumbing to a man because I wanted to, and not because I was being paid. Sorry's caress was sending shivers down my spine. We moved into the shadows of a doorway, both trying hard not to submit too quickly to our desires, yet understanding it was inevitable. His shirt had come undone; for the first time in so many years I felt the sublime touch of his bare skin upon my own. His warm touch travelled up inside my skirt; I gasped as those first throes of passion swept though my whole body. "I want you so much," I whispered. Right then, right there... We came so close. Then suddenly, he pulled away. I saw a tear on his cheek, glistening in the moonlight. "I'm sorry. I've got to go." I asked what was wrong, was it something I'd done? He turned away from me, not letting me see his face. "I need to make sure you get back safely," he replied. I didn't wave goodbye as the taxi pulled away. Even now, I still don't know what went wrong. Was I coming on too strong? I had expected nothing from him that night; even when he made the first move, the best I would have hoped for was a one night stand. Never in my life would I have ambitions of breaking up a marriage. Just one night with Sorry was more than I could have dreamed of having... Afterwards, I discovered that Peter had come back to look for us, that he'd seen us in our embrace. But as far as I know, Maria never found out. I would never have wanted her to. Sorry is happily married; no matter what my selfish desires, I know I could never get in the way of that. Some months later, we met again, by accident, in the park. "About what happened that night," he began. But I stopped him there. "Nothing happened that night," I told him. "As far as I'm concerned, we just got drunk, had a great night out, and then you went home to your wife. Nothing happened." I said this with no malice, though I'd pined for him for days. In his eyes, I saw relief. If he'd been worried about my telling Maria, at least I'd put his mind at rest. Yet still, I can't help but wonder if he meant anything he'd said to me that night. If some part of him still feels anything for me. One of the hardest lessons in life that I have learnt is that you can never hold on to true love. It slips through your fingers, or else it fades in time to become something else...