Bright Lights / Dark shadows PT 2 of Bright Lights Posted 14th Dec

Filaments of dust floated weightless in shafts of sun white light intruding past hastily drawn blinds. Striking the vacant space on the pillow next to hers, forming exaggerated shapes reminiscent of a cartoon sea horse from her childhood. Isabella watched these wisps dance, wondering how it was she only ever noticed them when she was alone.
Not the alone of being by herself, but truly alone as she felt now, isolation that clings to you and cloaks you from the world when you so desperately need the world to notice.
She’d been in this place two years ago and felt the shroud of isolation wrapped around her. Today, hours passed as she starred at the huge industrial window stretching from floor to ceiling of the converted apartment. Finally unable to bear the summers bright indifference to her feelings Isabella had thrown the blinds closed. Returning to their bed she once again lay next to the emptyness with the single intruding sun beam highlighting his absence.
Isabella Focused on the tiny floating mites as they twisted and turned in the sunlights shaft, for a moment nothing existed outside the dance, the shroud lifted and she let go of the emptiness. Stretching out her hand feeling the warmth she toyed with the dance, as her hand settled on the pillow, she was alone again.
Two years ago she had missed her family, her home and friends, the big adventure of striking out in the world had been exhilarating, fuelling her days and nights as she exploded into independence. But as the excitement diminished to be replaced by life’s routine necessities she had begun to miss the true freedom that goes unnoticed in the maelstrom of family.
The loneliness had clung to her for weeks then months. It was strange as she cast her mind back now, she could vividly remember watching flecks of dust float on the heat of a midday sun, yet she couldn’t fix the point when she had first heard his name. It seems now that he was part of her world before he became part of her life. She’d been aware of his presence, slowly discovered his name, his past and all without ever having direct contact. Mutual friends knew him, had just spoken with him, had drinks with him, and each encounter brought reports of his growing interest in her. When finally the evening arrived the two were to meet the emptiness that had held its place for so long had been stirred by the butterfly wings of anticipation. Turner Davidson had despatched the cloud of loneliness and isolation and replaced it with the now frantic ballet of nervous imagination and even longing.
At first she had been happy to be swept along in the wake of his presence, intense, charming, amusing, mysterious and he wanted her. Each moment, at every opportunity he had wanted her and for her part she had been more than willing. It was not that she was inexperienced, but her time with him went beyond anything she had dreamed of and the desire to explore every expression of this new passion had engulfed them both.
In those first months they consumed all that the city had to offer. Parties, functions, engagements and gatherings of all kinds. For her they had always been little more than evenings filled with bland egos parading themselves. Now they became electrifying as together they ignited the room.
That had been a year ago, now as she lay on her side , her right arm folded under her head as absently she twisted coils of rich walnut hair through the long slender fingers of her left she Looked again at the empty space by her side. The tears had stopped, the sun’s beam held no warmth anymore and this place seemed cold and industrial. Looking across the room to the dressing table she rested her eyes on the long slender silver backed hair brush given to her by her mother. Climbing out of bed she sat at the table to look at herself in the oval mirror. Absently picking up the brush she began to straighten her tangled hair. As she looked at her reflection, the tear stains, the red puffed eyes and pale washed out skin a fire began to burn within her. For a year now she had been alive, vital, energized as never before, and yes part of that was due to Turner Davidson but part of it was due to her. She had been vital, she had been energized, she had been desired and wanted. He was not taking that away, she would not let him, she was better than that. Picking up the phone she made a call and began to pack. One hour later she was in a taxi on her way to the airport.
Isabella stood in the airport terminal watching the information board. Finding her departure gate and she made her way down the heavy sky blue carpet. As she absently strolled to the rows of navy blue backed seats arranged around the still closed doors she held her mobile phone tight in her palm. She didn’t sit in the vacant seats, instead she positioned herself across from the doors leaning against the wall. Once those doors opened she would finally walk away from him, from them and all they had been together. Flipping open the phone she found his number and dialled.
The phone rang for a full two minutes before he finally answered.
“Hi, I was about to hang up”
“Sorry about that I was just getting parked up, it’s good to hear your voice,”
He was trying to sound casual, even conversational, as if last night hadn’t happened. Part of her wished it were true, that it hadn’t, that they hadn’t fought that he hadn’t walked out carrying with him those small pieces of his life she had begun to grow accustomed to. Not much in terms of possessions, a change of clothes a pair of running shoes, toiletries and the aftershave she’d bought him. But to see him gather up these fragments, stuffing them roughly into a bag all the time refusing to discuss what had gone so wrong, why he was behaving as he was.
Her announcement that She’d booked them a holiday hadn’t brought any immediate reaction. Taking his face in her hands she had softly said
“I’m going to show you off to my family”
Then as she kissed him, his lips had not responded to her touch as she drew away she wasn’t sure what she would see, but she hadn’t expected anger. His eyes stared back at her flint like, unblinking. His face set firm he had pulled her hands from his face and immediately begun to move round the apartment gathering up his belongings and throwing them onto their bed.
She watched in stunned silence at first, then his movements around the apartment became angry and destructive he attacked the dresser, tearing through it to retrieve any item of his. Tossing aside her clothes.
“why are you acting like this” she screamed at this stranger before her.
Turning from his ransacking of the wardrobe his answer was angry.
“You had no right, you just keep pushing and pushing, well not anymore”
“But I thought you wanted to be together, what about our plan ?”
“Your plans, always the plans, always what’s next. Why not just be happy with what’s now, what’s here. Well enough, you can go make your plans with someone else.”
“But I Thought”
But he was no longer listening, he pulled a black duffle bag from the bottom of the wardrobe and began load it with the contents of the bed. Moments later he was gone.