The Gruberstory
Chapter One
The Beginning
Once upon a time...
in a land not so far away, there lived an extraordinary man. His eyes were
like deep blue diamonds, alight with the sparkle of a thousand stars. His sweet voice was
capable of taming the wildest beast, and his smile was enough to make even the hardest
female heart swoon with warmth. However, he had not found the one who would capture his
heart. But, his charms were not to be wasted much longer...for he was about to embark on a
journey...one not only of excitement and intrigue, but one of the heart.
So he went into a coffee shop on Fifth Avenue. He seated himself looking warily about
him... he mustn't be recognized. He didn't even order his usual chocolate milk, and went
for a white one instead... mustn't tip anyone off to his presence.
He saw the waitress eyeing him with suspicion. He felt his nerves go on edge... He didn't
realize that she was just checking him out, and scrutinizing the fingers of his left hand.
His sandy blond hair dipped over one eye, concealing him, he thought, but all of his good
parts were still showing, and this fact was not lost on the affection-starved waitress...
He gazed out the window, where the morning sun reflected in on the waitress approaching
the table which seated the lone man.
He knew that somehow this day would be different. Something deep inside just told him so,
but what would it be. Would it be some strange and exciting adventure? Some new
experience? Or would this be the day when the one... his heart was thumping, he almost
dared not think it. But he just couldn't resist.
On the other side of the room, the waitress gazed at the handsome yet shy man seated in
the diner. He looked a little familiar to her. In fact he looked like a man who had a lot
of secrets. Secrets that could drive a girl crazy if she let them. She took a deep breath
and tried to quiet the frantic thumping of her heart. She sensed a current in the air, a
sense of something about to happen as she walked over to the man.....
As she approached him from behind, just as she was about to say something, he turned
around and gave her a half-smile. She remembered seeing so much more of that smile
somewhere before. But this smile was a little different. It lacked a certain sparkle to
it. "Eating alone today?", she broke the trance that seemed to have lasted hours
between them. "No, I won't be eating today, I'll just have a glass of milk
please." He turned around gazing out the window again with a thoughtful look.
"Right away sir" she said , very melancholy. She faced the opposite direction
and began to step away when his voice sent a rush of vibes through her, "But.."
he began, almost sadly ," I will be eating.. alone."
As she went to get his order, she could not help but wonder...what was he doing there
alone? She naturally assumed that someone with his all-American good looks would be
overrun with the affections of beautiful women, but for some reason he seemed so
lonely...perhaps even as affection-starved as she was. The sad look in his ocean-blue eyes
seemed to be a window into the tormented soul within, and through this she sensed in him a
forlorn longing for something- and yet she was not able to grasp it. She could not
positively tell what he most desired: love, affection, or perhaps just company; perhaps
all of these. She gathered her courage and the glass of milk, and turned towards the table
with the resolution that she would speak to him, if only he would allow her through the
window he had opened. But, as her eyes rested on the table, her heart sank. She turned
towards the door just as it closed behind him. She watched as he walked down the bustling
sidewalk-hands in his pockets, shoulders slouch, a lock of sandy hair shading the pain in
his crystal blue eyes-and into the subway.
He stood on the darkened stage, knowing that this evening had been his last performance
for a good while. The few contents of his dressing room were collected in a box at his
feet. As he looked into the darkened theatre, he felt the hole which had opened up inside
him, and he knew he had no choice but to fill it. He produced from his pocket a faded
photograph, of a young woman with a broad smile standing on a sunny beach. As he mulled
over this ancient remembrance in the dim light from the fluorescent overheads, he knew
there was only one way to fill the gap in his heart, and in order to make himself
complete, he must leave everything he knows behind. A lone tear glistened as it ran down
his cheek, and he gave a heavy sigh as he collected his things and walked out of the
theatre into what lay ahead.
As he stepped out of the theater into the cool evening, so many images rushed through his
mind. There had been so many beginnings and endings in his life. Moving from town to town
and city to city with so many tours, he had simply lost count. His life had become a
collage of strange places and strange people. But this beginning was different. Inside the
theater he had felt tired and alone, but now, out in the midst of the night, under a
canopy of stars, his heart was filled with a new hope, a new completeness. Looking up into
the heavens he knew for sure he was not alone in this world. That there was One who was
watching out for him, and that there was a plan for his life. This seemed to bring new
life into his soul, and his steps suddenly became lighter. That all too famous smile crept
back onto his lips. With a start he realized that there was a little hum coming from deep
inside, the first time in a long time without a cue. He knew now that what he had left
behind was his sadness, and what was ahead... only time would tell that.
Finally, he knew exactly where his feet and his heart were leading him. It was HOME. Not
home where he grew up as a child, not even home where he lived now that he had become a
man. But home to the place and the part that he had found that so rightly expressed who
and what he was. He knew it was a demanding place, but one that fit him like a glove. It
was the one that he had touched so many with, and so many had touched him because of it.
He knew, as he thought of that so familiar place, on that well walked street, that was
where his heart was, that was where he had to go, and maybe as he once again walked from
the stage of that place into the sea of faces at the door, that would be the where he just
might find what he had been looking for all this time.
With these pleasing thoughts floating about his mind, he slackened his pace to enjoy them
fully, afraid that they wouldn't last. The heavy night air entered his chest, calming his
soul. A long sigh escaped him, but with it escaped his fear. Closing his eyes, trusing
fate to lead him, he continued his journey. Then suddenly he collided with, as far as he
could tell by the shriek, something that was not just a lamp post. Glancing at his victim,
he was surprised to find a young blonde, with a beautiful smile. He had seen that face
somewhere before... but where?
"Sorry," was his muttered reply. He wanted to speak, to know where he had seen her, but his courage failed him. Just as he was, finally, about to speak, a whirlwind produced a man in a tuxedo from behind the corner. Grabbing the girl, the man led her off, questioning her as if she was charged with a crime.
A pair of blue eyes watched the couple from beneath a lock of sandy hair.
Another sigh broke the growing silence. However, before the couple disappeared behind yet
another corner, the girl glanced back. The blue eyes did not miss the lamp-lit sparkle of
a tear running down her cheek. That one glance he would come to treasure forever in his
heart.
The scene left him feeling terribly unsettled. He knew the face, he played back over and
over in his mind. But there was something, something else that went with the face.
Something soft, and sweet, and.... what was it? Suddenly he had.
It was a rose. A white rose.
The ocean stretched in every direction. From his window seat, he looked out into the
infinite expanse of sunrise and water-sparkle, and the blue-green shimmer of the sea was
reflected in his eyes.
Throughout the flight, he mulled over the events of the previous evening; but above all,
he thought of the girl on the street. Where had he seen her before? What was the strange
connection with the rose? He knew he had seen her before...the eyes, the hair, all were
familiar to him, and in the depths of his mind he struggled to put the broken fragments of
memory together, hoping for a connection that would ease the unsettling feeling in his
soul. He could not help feeling uneasy: his mind told him it was due to the extended
flight and his lack of sleep and food; his heart, however, knew it was worry, both about
the outcome of his pilgrimage and the fate of the young woman of last night.
The plane landed. As he stepped off the jetway and into the terminal, a wave of warmth
pulsed through him-the feeling that he was finally on his way home, even if he had a long
way to go. He reached into his pocket and produced the faded photo. Her shining hair, her
warm smile...Again the warm feeling shot through him, and coupled with the warm humid air
forced the sweat to bead on the smooth brow shaded by the sandy hair. He claimed what
little baggage he had, and emerged into the fierce sun outside, where an airport greeter
was calling out, "Welcome to...