The Gruberstory

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Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter Two
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Paris, the city of lights, shone like a giant star of the heavens that night. Speeding cars and chattering people only served to illuminate the radiant streets. The excitement and pleasure of the evening seemed to penetrate all the houses, causing a clamor unlike any other. Even among the lights and laughter of the city, a falling star stood out clearly for a moment in the sky. A tormented soul made a wish...

That soul seemed by mere appearances to clash with the bustling world around it....so seemingly sullen and quiet, but inside, the torment raged on relentlessly, making the poor man feel as though every breath were his last, or at least wishing it were...

His sad, tired eyes gazed at the people around him... "each one with their own lives, dreams, wishes, heartaches," he pondered, "how does the world have room for so many lives with so many problems and heartaches..." surprised the earth doesn't burst into tears from the burden.

He seated himself on a bench by himself... he studied the heavens, and suddenly felt himself growing very small.

It was an overwhelming sensation, and one he had grown to cherish since boyhood... He remembered running out on many occasions, from the "undeserved" spanking, to the adolescent heartbreak of rejection, to that special little place near home with teary eyes... He would throw himself on the ground facing the stars, and he would watch them until his perspective changed. He would realize then, just as he was considering now, how big of a place this universe was, and how many tortured souls like his own had cried out over the centuries, and how this, like all others, too shall pass. He stopped to wonder if there was a great Ear that heard and comforted those cries...with a sigh and a fixed gaze, he assumed that there must be, because he always felt at peace when his stargazing episodes were over...
That peace was fragile, however.

He broke from his reverie to see a homeless man seated next to him... The man was disheveled and unshaven, as one would expect a homeless man to be... he was surprised that the man had not asked for anything yet... the homeless man was just staring at him... seemingly intently and perhaps for a purpose.

He smiled and was about to reach for his wallet when he realized that he still had all American dollars... to his surprise, the man laid a hand on his shoulder, and he began to speak...English, with a strong southern accent...

"Now I know what y'all are looking for... done seen it a whole bunch o times in a man's eyes... usa get the same look in my own once upon a time... long time ago, son, been a long time." The man began to laugh, which unnerved our hero a bit. The laughter seemed to be prompted by nothing and lasted forever... He was poised to leave, but the man put his hand on his shoulder again, "now, son, don't y'all give up like I done... Y'all needs to find what y'alls lookin for, cuz it's goin to save you in the end...you'll find more salvation in a woman's arms than in that there cathedral, so youn's need to g'won, git! Y'all really do know where you're goin, you just need to foller your heart...it's already brought y'all this far..."
Our hero looked down, and when he considered this message, he looked back up to thank the man, but he had vanished...

He stood on the bench, looking in all directions for the man, but he was no where to be found...
he sat back down, and choked back the tears...
the old man had been right, he needed to go find... her.

The Metro station was packed with people. Parisians, on their way home to waiting families or to evening diversions on Montmartre, were hurrying to the waiting trains.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to get tot he train which he hoped would not leave him. He knew he must find her, and the only place he knew to look for her was the last place he saw her. As his eyes scanned the crowded platform, they met with another pair, nearly as blue and bright as his own. Those eyes looked so familiar... Chalking it up to deja vu, he got on the train, finally coming to the end of his long journey.

As he walked down the street under the starry sky, his heartbeat quickening with his steps, her image burning in his pocket, he remembered the last time he beheld her, so many years ago...

He had been recording a cast album across the channel in London, and before returning to the States, he took a vacation in Paris. They met after a show at a local theatre, and immediately they were attracted to each other; he, a young, up-and-coming Broadway actor, and she, an avid theatre patron. Five short, wonderful days he spent in Paris, in the arms of she who loved him and whom he loved in return. She was the one, however, who broke him out of his reverie. "We come from two different worlds," she had said. "We both know that we can never be together in the real world." They said goodbye here, on the steps of the Paris townhouse she shared with her family, and she left him with nothing but a small photo, taken on the Riviera...

He rang the bell. His heart beat wildly. An old woman answered the door.
"Yes?"
He introduced himself, and asked for the young lady of the house.
"She has been gone for some time, monsieur."
"Oh....is she married?"
"She...she was married."
"Then she is separated?"
"No...She was killed several years ago, in a boating accident. I'm sorry."

The woman closed the door before him. His heart sank. The world spun, the street was uneven, the stars were blurred behind a film of tears. He wandered, aimlessly, not knowing or caring where the road would take him. His ramble took him to the river. It was here that, for the first time since his boyhood, he broke down and cried. Not even the One who had comforted him in those sorrowful times of youth could stem the flow of tears from the crystal eyes. The night wore on.

It was dawn when he found himself at his hotel room. He did not know how long he sat at the banks of the Seine, or even how he had arrived here. His mind thought only of her...she whom he had lost twice. His eyes were red, and although the urge to weep had not left him, they simply could not cry any more tears. The sandy hair shaded the knots of pain which crossed the smooth brow. As he stepped into the room, he felt something brush against his foot. He looked down at the object in his path:

There, in the doorway, was a single white rose.

...as he gazed at the rose, his heart jumped. He bent down to inspect it further. "How?.. Who?", he thought to himself. All that has happened in the last few days he tried to fight through it to the woman he passed on the street and the vision of the white rose. Her tears, and her sadness were so familiar. Why would that woman be here? He wondered... "Remember... no matter where I go, or what happens to me, I will always be here. You will always feel welcomed here...and maybe someday we'll be together again...in Paris." she replied... He remembered more, gazing into the rose as if it would reveal something only to him... the sunset reflecting in her deep blue eyes. They were his favorite part of her. They were always open and honest, and full of life. They were the window to her soul. He could see the passion in her eyes. But, sometimes, there was a little girl behind those eyes who was always hiding something. There was more to it. He just knew it. He wouldn't believe it. He could always see himself in her eyes. There was a little girl who wanted to break out and run into his arms that day. She fought very hard to say those last words, until she whispered through the knot in her throat, "Goodbye..."

"NO!!!!!" he screamed as he found himself staring at the rose again. The memory was so vivid, so real.

As he took a step something slid underneath his shoe. A letter? He thought. He picked up the envelope that had been resting underneath the rose. He must have not noticed it before.

He opened it and stared at it... his eyes wide open..."Oh my God!" He turned around and looked out the window into the sky. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He felt dizzy, perhaps from lack of sleep, perhaps and even more likely form the contents of the letter.
He felt strange inside... His heart fluttered, yet if remained heavy... He sat upon the small hotel bed and read the letter over and over again. He ran his hand over the page, over the flourishing handwriting, as if to touch the hand that made the markings.

His eyes grew very heavy. He fought the exhaustion. This news was so important, but sleep won this time, and he plunged into a deep unconsciousness.

He awoke with a start, as though someone were calling his name. He sat bolt upright in his bed. He searched round about him in a confused frenzy. His brain struggled to comprehend his surroundings. Finally he remembered where he was. He jumped from the bed and searched the sheets. He tenderly picked up the letter. Walking toward the window, he read it once again. The bright, morning sun streaming in cheerfully, oblivious to the pain that he was feeling.

He gazed out at the city. He felt disoriented and a bit lost, like a little child that has lost his parnents in a very big place... That same sort of panic. He could only imagine that this sort of panic was worse. He was losing his own heart.

Suddenly, his mind snapped into focus. It was all very clear to him now. He knew what he had to do. He gently placed the letter on the small windowside table, and hastily took leave. He thundered down the stairs and butst out into the Parisian morning. With every footfall he became more certain of his destination.....

His lege strained down the old familiar paththat he had travelled so many times before. He was nearly there when a most awful thought halted his momentum.

"Dead"

"Boating accident" He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory.

His chest still heaving from the exertion, he threw himself on a nearby park bench. He felt angry and betrayed. He wondered who would be playing such a cruel joke on him. He stared up at the endless blue sky until his hard, angry breaths became calm.

He pulled himself from the park bench, jammed his hands into his poecket, and began the trek back to the hotel. He would pack and head back to NYC today. He decided that he would chalk this one up to experience. this had to be the most expensive mistake that he had ever made.

"I feel like such a fool!" he reprimanded himself. "I've missed a world of opportunities back home for sure...here chasing after ghosts..."

With a deep sigh, his eyes dropped to the path at his feet. He considered how he had never noticed the rocky texture before. She had so completely captured his attention, that he never bothered to look at anything else when she was near. Despite his disposition, the thought of her face left him with a smile.

"Perhaps that letter was meant for someone else."

He recalled that there were no names on the letter, nothing at all to indicate who it was to or who it was from.

"Then again," he thought, "she never did put any names on her letters"

He shoved that thought aside, and convinced himself that there had been a mistake; that letter was meant to go to a different room, in a different town. It wasn't meant for him, and all of his hope was false.

He slowly, if not reluctantly sauntered up the narrow drive that led to the small, country-style hotel.He looked up and noticed a figure on the steps in front of the main entrance. It was a woman. she was casually dressed, and seated next to her was a small, brown, leather suitcase. Long, golder hair cascaded down past her shoulders, kissing her arms and glowing in the bright, morning sun.

Her face was downcast.

"Oh, God! what are you doing to me?? As though all of this torture were'nt enough...oh! she looks just like her...I can't even look at her. she reminds me too much...." he suddenly moved to go.

The scuffle of feet on the loose gravel caught the woman's attention, and her deep blue eyes jolted upward, in surprise or in fear, he could not tell which. I didn't matter. Her eyes widened in recognition, and her full, beautiful lips parted in silent exclamation. His heart leapt into his throat. It WAS her!

With reckless abandon they raced toward one another, meeting somewhere in between in a passionate embrace.

From the moment that he first touched her, a deluge of memories came washing over him.  He put his hand in her hair, recalling the silky feel.  He breathed in and savoured the smell of her skin.  He felt the softness of her cheek against his.  He embraced her with all of the strength that he had in him, terrified to ever let go, lest she slip away from him again. He knew in his heart though, that he would never allow her to be apart from him again.  He felt her strong arms embracing him with the very same urgency.  Each knew within them that with one another, they had found their safe place, their sanctuary.

He tried desparately to control his emotions, but he felt her body shudder and sigh with her every sob, and he could no longer hold back his own tears.  With each one that fell, he felt release from his bondage of pain.

Finally, he summoned all of his strength to pull away from her, but only enough to look into her face.  She shied away, as she hated for anyone to see her cry.  He softly brushed her hair away from her tear streaked face. 

"It's me, remember?" he spoke gently to her. "You don't have to be ashamed."

She looked up, still avoiding his eyes but smiled through her tears,

"I know," she replied in a broken voice. "I know.  Not with you. I know. That's why I left. He wasn't you.  I was always ashamed of myself."

He felt anger welling up withing him at the thought of anyone being cruel to the one he loved so much.

His hands reached up to caress her face, and to wipe away her tears.

With this final act of total acceptance, her eyes at last connected with his.  He felt as though he had at last won her back.  He closed his eyes and kissed her; tenderly at first, and then more passionately.

They melted into one another. They were as one soul.  He felt as though his heart would burst with emotion. He hadn't felt that way since he had last kissed her so long ago.

"I never, ever want to live without you again," he said softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed her consent.

"This time, I'll go with you" she confirmed, quietly yet resolutely.

Suddenly, he grinned broadly. 

"Mind if I practice for later, then?"

"What do you mean?" she asked perplexed. Before she could even finish the question, he had already swept her up into  his arms, her feet dangling helplessly. 

"Gotta pratice carrying you over the threshold!"  he replied with a smile. 

He stooped at the front step so she could pick up her suitcase, and then he ran, carrying her all the way up the stairs to his room, their laughter echoing through the hall.  He burst through the door, and then seated her gently on the small loveseat in the corner. He took care to shut the door, and then wasted no time settling down next to her.  She wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his chest.  The beathing of his heart and the rhythmic sighing of his breath gave her comfort.  She alway felt so safe with him. He had always made it so clear that he would always be there to protect her.

He looked down at her with care as he lovingly stroked her hair.

"Tell me everything," he implored.

As he listened to her begin her story of all of the things that had ensued from the time he last saw her until now, an overwhelming sensation came over him.  He knew that he had found the only home that he ever needed.