fifty-shades-of-grey

my Fifty Shades into the light, but it’s proved a task beyond my meager abilities. Desperately,I try to keep my emotions banked and at bay. As we head out onto 4th Avenue, Istare blankly out of the window, and the enormity of what I’ve done slowly washes overme. Shit – I’ve left him. The only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I’ve ever slept with.I gasp, and the levees burst. Tears course unbidden and unwelcome down my cheeks, andI wipe them away hurriedly with my fingers, scrambling in my bag for my sunglasses. Aswe pause at some traffic lights, Taylor holds out a linen handkerchief for me. He says nothingand doesn’t look in my direction, and I take it with gratitude.“Thank you,” I mutter, and this small discreet act of kindness is my undoing. I sit backin the luxurious leather seats and weep.The apartment is achingly empty and unfamiliar. I have not lived here long enough for itto feel like home. I head straight to my room, and there, hanging limply at the end of mybed, is a very sad, deflated helicopter balloon. Charlie Tango, looking and feeling exactlylike me. I grab it angrily off my bedrail, snapping the tie, and hug it to me. Oh – whathave I done?I fall onto my bed, shoes and all, and howl. The pain is indescribable… physical,mental… metaphysical… it is everywhere, seeping into the marrow of my bones. Grief.This is grief – and I’ve brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comesfrom my inner goddess, her lip curled in a snarl… the physical pain from the bite of a beltis nothing, nothing compared to this devastation. I curl up, desperately clutching the flatfoil balloon and Taylor’s handkerchief, and surrender myself to my grief.End of Part One