The Writer and Her Muse

. . .James looked down at the fiery haired girl in his arms.

“Olivia.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Olivia shoved James to the side and said “Oh that’s rich, James. Saying sorry doesn’t change anything. Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you cheated and lied and went behind my back.”

“But, all I have left are sorries.”

“Well, sorry is not good enough.”

“What do you want, Olivia? Do you want me to grovel for the rest of my life because I’ll do it. I’d do that for you and you know perfectly well that I’m not lying. I was drunk and she doesn’t like you. Can you not put two and two together, Olivia? You’re a smart girl.”

“James...”

“No, Olivia, you can’t just James me and say I’m wrong. For once, I know I’m right. I love you with all my heart and if I loved you any less, we would not be here at this moment. I’m apologizing for disrespecting you, not cheating on you because I did no such thing.”

Olivia stared at the man before her. James was a man of few words and even fewer emotions. To say this, this entire monologue, so to speak, was taking a lot.

“I pushed her aside and the only thoughts that ran through my hazy, drunken mind were that her lips weren’t as soft as yours and that she wasn’t as wonderful as you. Are those the thoughts a drunken man intending to cheat would have? Well, Olivia, are they?”

“I suppose they’re not.” Olivia whispered in a small voice.

“You suppose? Suppose, Olivia? Please, now that’s rich. I love you. Do you get that, you silly, stubborn, beautiful devil? I love you. Leanna is nothing and that is all she’ll ever be because you’re my everything. Always have been and always will be.”

Olivia stared at James for a moment, into his brown eyes, before she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him with every fibre of her being. Their lips moved in unison and James’ hands tangled themselves into Olivia’s hair before they travelled down to her waist to pull her close. Their bodies molded together and there it was-the electric spark she felt every moment James touched her. When she pulled back, she was sure her hair was in disarray and her lips were swollen but all she could think to do was smile like a kid on Christmas morning.

“It’s a good thing I love you too because unrequited love is a bitch.” Olivia said with a grin before pulling him back in for another kiss.

Isla spent two consecutive evenings, and two consecutive sleepless nights slaving away at her typewriter, and this night was no different.

She was so intimately acquainted with the world she had imagined that she was able to block out all the calamity happening outside her door. Gus was blasting music, or what he called music. Someone was screaming at the television, or so she thought. But nothing really mattered as long as Olivia forgave James. Nothing mattered but the constant soothing clicking of the keys as words poured out of her finger tips.

A knock on the door brought Isla out of the love drunk world of James and Olivia and back to her own, less than glamorous, life. She was no longer standing on a beach in south England but rather back in her dingy apartment in New York City. Isla inwardly cursed the person at her door for breaking her from her reverie.

She walked to the door, in all its green paint peeling glory, and looked through the peephole and let out a squeak.

Her far too good-looking co-worker was at her door and she was very recently single and emotional. This, her situation, was a disaster in the making. Isla fixed her hair and straightened her v-neck before opening the door.

Mr. Harker, hello.” Isla said with a smile that was far too wide to appear natural. She let her eyes wander over him, admiring his casual-wear outside of the office. He wore a blue cotton sweater that made the blue of his eyes all the more sensational, and some dark wash jeans.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled easily as he ran his hands through his jet black hair.

“I hope I’m not intruding. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That was quite a nasty fall.”

“I’m quite alright. Thank you for caring.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want my workers falling unconscious at work.” Alex’s own words were a lie right through his teeth. He had been worried about the blonde the moment she was hurt and she was the only thought that went through his mind for the past two days though he’d never let her know. Showing up at her house alone was something he knew of as unprofessional, yet he didn’t let it stop him.

“I don’t work for you exactly. You needn’t worry about me. “

“Still.” Alexander let out a modest chuckle.

Isla stared at the tall dark-haired man for another moment and then shook off her idiocy and started

“Would you like to come...” However, Isla’s invitation was left in the open air as the one and only deadbeat ex-boyfriend by the name of Darren made his appearance. Isla groaned at the sight of his toothy grin.

“Baby, I came to talk.” Darren said as he shoved Alex with his shoulder and gave Isla a sloppy kiss on the lips. Isla noted that he reeked of cheap liquor. Great, a drunk Darren was a handful.

He turned to Alex and sent him a look that said “I dare you to say something.”

“Mr. Harker, I think you should leave. I’m feeling fine. I’ll see you at work.”

Alex sent her a disbelieving look but saw the desperation in her green eyes. He nodded and turned and walked down the grimy hallway and out of the dingy apartment complex.

Isla turned to Darren and said

“What possibly could you have left to say to me? You were wrapped around that sleazy Vicky Bellasario. I hate her and she hates me. You know well enough to stay away from her and yet I find you and her scantily clad on my living room floor. Don’t even lie, I’m a big girl, I can figure out what transpired.”

“Baby, why do we always jump into an argument? I came to say that I’ll take you back.”

“What?” Was all Isla could sputter out over her own disbelief.

“I know you’re crazy about me and so I’ll take you back.”

“You fucked another girl in my apartment and dumped me on my birthday.” Isla said in a deadly calm voice.

“Baby, why bring up the past?”

“It happened two days ago, you idiot.”

“If it helps, she wasn’t even that great of a lay. You’re way better in bed.”

“You arse!” Isla said. “Wrong answer." Isla thought. "What he should have said was that no one could compare to her and when he was with that floozy all he could think of was Isla's blonde locks not Victoria’s bleached hair or Isla's soft lips or something else related to Isla. he wasn't supposed to say his sleazy lay wasn’t that great of a lay. That wasn’t what James would say. James would profess his love for her and talk about how he pushed the skank away.

Isla blinked back tears as she thought of how sad and pathetic her life really was. Here she was, thinking of a what a fictional character would say because that was all she could do to fill the void in her life. Her lack of a proper love life was satiated with those of her own creation.

“James wouldn’t have said that.” Isla mumbled.

The drunken Darren heard those words and started a monologue much different from James’.

“James? Who the fuck is James, that joker who just left or someone you came up with?” Darren realized he’d struck a nerve at the sound of Isla’s startled gasp. But he went on.

“Oh that’s it, isn’t it? A fabrication. Your characters are the only ones who can tolerate all your fucking madness, right? Come back to reality! I don’t even know why I bother. You’re off in your own world preoccupied with your own creations. Vanity will get you nowhere. Come back to earth.” Darren said before stalking off.

Isla closed her door and let her tears fall. In the safety of her own apartment, she could drown in her tears. Why was it that her own characters could have happy endings while Isla was stuck in the scene of what came before the happiness? Perhaps the author of her story was a cruel being who enjoyed seeing Isla in turmoil.

Isla was wallowing in self-pity when a loud crash came from Isla’s fire escape. Isla walked over to her window and opened it to see a six foot tall, blonde haired, brown eyed man standing looking quite confused.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

“Yes love, you sure can. I’m Jamie and I do believe I’m not in Brighton anymore.”