The story of love

Martha ran up the stairs, slammed the door violently behind her, threw herself onto the bed, grabbed a pillow and buried her head underneath it. And just when you thought she would be gasping for air she started howling and sobbing so violently you might have been excused to think it was all for the show. After all Martha’s other part-time job was giving drama classes, wasn’t it? Or was she writing yet another movie and acting out a particularly difficult to write scene so that the words would flow right?

Austin could hear her down here in the hallway. It wasn’t a big house but still - he was downstairs by the front door and she was upstairs in her room which looked onto the back of the house and he could hear her. And her door was closed. He could see her phone there lying on the tiles. Was it broken? Should he pick it up? He would not. Martha might appear at the top of the stairs and kill him for it.

It had all gone terribly well. They had spend a long weekend together. The first one. A wonderful four days away from everybody they knew. Just the two of them under an endless blue sky. The walks along the shore, the hikes up the hill, the crazy rides on the unreliable mopeds they had hired to reach the most remote coves, the boat-trip for a picnic on the tiny island and the bathing in the sea and bathing in the sun. Austin was so drunk on happiness he almost proposed.

And now this.

He should have handled it better.

‘I’ll drop you off first.’

‘All right. Then you can have dinner with me. I have tons of stuff in the freezer.’

She turned towards him. He took his eyes off the road just to give her that special sexy smile he knew she could not resist.

And then it was downhill all the way until now. The howling was still going on. He had to do something. Help her. Show her how much he cared and how much she needed him at rough times like this. Then again he was hoping there would not be too many crisis like this one.

‘Maybe.’ She said, smiling back. ‘Maybe you could stay over but you have to promise to go and get breakfast. Croissants.’ A pause. Another smile. ‘Au beurre.’

He nodded and just when he turned to park the car she screamed so loud his eardrums started to ache. He almost let go of the steering wheel. He did an emergency stop. He was good at those. Practice he guessed.

‘Nooooooooooooo! Noooooooooooo! Noooooooooo! How could I forget? How stupid of me? Oh noooooooo! I’m soooooooo stupid!!!!!’

She glared at him as if he was responsible.

Martha’s life he knew was an incessant twirl of activity and fun and stress. A continuous streak of achievements and performances and failures and thrilling experiences. Deadlines that kept popping up out of nowhere (was this one?) and ideas that came tumbling out of her mind one pushing the next one out.

She looked furious.

‘NO!’

He switched the engine off and opened his door.

‘Come on, let’s go in.’

Austin went to the back of the car to retrieve the light luggage from the boot and thought nothing of it. Martha took a minute or two to get out of the car. She followed Austin into the house. Once in the hall he put the bags down onto the black and white tiles and turned round to check on Martha.

‘I am a stupid woman. I really am. I go and have fun with a man on an island full of sunshine and I forget I have something to write.’

Austin was still looking at Martha. Desperate to understand.

‘And I forget! I forget I have a deadline to meet. I forget I have a career. A DREAM!’

Tears start streaming down her face. Mere transparent pearls. One. Then and other one on the other cheek. Austin is staring. He does not want the happiness to fade away for a stupid deadline.

‘It’s ok. There will be other opportunities. Don’t worry.’

‘WHAT?’ Martha is screaming now.

‘I have to seize every opportunity. This one is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You do not understand, do you? You were born into opportunity, you had everything you wanted served on a silver tray. I have to fight for what I want. And I want this. I DO!’

And then she rushed up the stairs.

Austin finally went up there on tiptoes. He knocked on the door but with the howling Martha could not possibly hear anything. So he went in anyway. Pulled the pillow off her head. Wiped her tears away. Shushed her with a soft kiss and said:

‘Martha? This piece you have to write, just tell me. I’ll help you. I’m not good at writing but I can help. Trust me.’

Nothing happened but Austin stayed there, still, sitting on the bed next to Martha. He thought I love that girl so much, I love her even now when she is irate and furious and unreasonable. I want her by me for the rest of my life. I did not propose to her but I can help her with this impossible task. I have to.

‘Martha? … Tell me, please, I want to help.’

Martha stirred, another pillow moved and Martha breathed more easily. She turned around and sat up. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes a mix of furry and helplessness.

‘Really? You would? But how could you!’

Austin took hold of her and held her tight.

‘I love you. I would do anything for you.’

And so Martha sat up next to Austin and looked at him lovingly.

‘I wanted to write this piece for this competition. The deadline our timezone is tomorrow at 10 AM. I only have the very rough first draft. I can’t possibly have it ready. It’s just a really bad first draft. I’ll never be a writer. I’m … I’m …’

‘Shush, baby, shush…’

Austin waited, then asked her to read the draft to her. He would be the average reader he said. The above average reader. And tell her what was good and what was bad. They sat up all night and at 9:37 the following morning Martha, all red eyes and puffy cheeks and loving looks, entered her short story for the prestigious composition. Their short story.