After my meeting with Edward Masen, I felt the crack that had been created open further with every passing day. Each morning I woke to find the fissure had crept across my numb state and widened the vulnerable gap of raw emotion. It allowed the emotions, which sat restrained under the cold exterior, to seep to the surface. I could feel myself starting to thaw out and it scared me more than anything. I was comfortable with the state of blank emotion, and I wasn't sure if I could cope with returning to a state of mind where I could feel again.
The first night after meeting Edward I felt a single tear slide down my cheek, it's heat searing down through the cold of me and reaching for the warm humanity that I had beaten down. As the droplet slipped over my skin I felt it beckon my memories and emotions to the forefront, to the surface, and I found I had no energy to battle them back. Instead I bathed in them. I welcomed every single one, both negative and otherwise, to play through me and release whatever reaction they came with. It was no surprise to me that the single tear multiplied to more, but what was surprising was the fact that they healed rather than hurt. It felt good to feel the anger, resentment, despair because it was something to feel.
Once the sadness had washed over me I found myself turning to laughter, almost hysterical in its force. It wasn't brought on by lunacy, or fear. Instead it burst from me purely because of fate's plan, simply because I saw him. The moment I had turned around and seen him looking at me, I felt as if I could burst at the seams from joy, no matter what time had shown. I had enjoyed seeing him, being near him, watching his small quirks, quiet shyness, and curiosity. For a fleeting second I was able to see him, not as the man I had loved and lost to another, but as a person I had known and hadn't expected to see in a while. I had laughed at the pure coincidence of it all. Of all the music stores, of all the places, where I could have bumped into him or times I could have visited his home, it happened when I was at my most vulnerable and receptive. I had to share a smile at fate's choice. It chose it's moment so well because it was a moment when I couldn't do anything to stop him getting under my skin.
Eventually the laughter had died down, and I had curled up on my plush red bed. I should have known that first night would be the first breakthrough of emotion through my icy depths because since that day my demeanour altered day by day.
I found myself waking the day with vigour and promise rather than apathy. I would offer the receptionist a small smile and a wave as I passed rather than my previous stern nod. I would walk the streets with curiosity and interest rather than a steely, unseeing stare. I walked for fun and discovery rather than mere exercise. I still hadn't gotten to the point of wanting to invite anyone into my life, and I didn't engage in conversation easily, but neither did I return comments with a cool glare.
I wasn't anywhere near my old self, but I could feel the ice queen starting to melt away bit by bit.
Still, I refused to seek out Edward or the Masens, and I refused to hope or dream. I lived and that was it. I did not wish upon the first star at night, and I didn't pick up pennies from the street hoping for good luck during the day. I held no room in my heart for anything other than what was already there and if fate should choose to lead me to the Masens then I would accept such a thing graciously without running, but I wouldn't run to them without cause.
It were these thoughts that occupied my mind as I sat in Chicago Park, switching between watching the cold winter wind race across the fields and pond, and reading Great Expectations. Such an apt title when considering my life's journey.
The park was one of my favourite places to visit in Chicago, although there were certainly far prettier and cultural destinations. However none of them held the memories and tranquillity that came with the rolling greenery, rustling leaves, and shimmering pond that were boasted by the park. I had come here after spending sometime buying two new dresses in the town. They were both corseted and full skirted with delicate lace decorating the edges. They were also vivid in their colouring, a vain attempt to add life and vibrancy to my otherwise pastel existence. One was a deep plum shade while the other was a strong ruby red which sat in lovely contrast with my pale hair. Today, however I was wearing a golden yellow frock with my blue coat for warmth. I had taken the effort of pinning my hair in line with the fashion, although due to its volume I could feel it had slipped a little. My bangs skimmed my face and soft wispy curls tickles down my neck or caught on my cherry lip balm when the wind breezed.
With a new gust of the wind I found a sheet of paper tangle with my feet, trying the weave through my legs to freedom.
I bent to glance at the sheet, noticing lines and lines of musical notes blotted across the page. The script was tattered, and lacking a little elegance but the way the music flowed through the scales was a triumph of creativity.
As I sat glancing over the sheet music I heard fast footsteps crunching on the gravel towards me.
I looked up when I heard heavy breathing at my side.
A small smile flickered on my lips before I replaced it with my usual mask or indifference.
"Sir, am I to believe this is yours?" I held out the sheet music and he nodded breathlessly as he bent slightly, clutching the bench to catch his breath. I knew him instantly, from the confident gait of his walk to the bronze depth of his hair. However, I didn't show my recognition.
"Thank you, Miss. Due to this damned wind I have been chasing that piece almost the length of the park." He gushed freely before his face stiffened and became sheepish.
"Please excuse my exuberance and language, Miss." He hand ran through his hair once he took a deep calming breath and I looked away as I chuckled quietly at his apology. I had almost forgotten the need for propriety during these times.
I turned back and nodded in acceptance of his words, handing him his music before turning my face back to my book. I could feel the emotions rising to the surface again, and I had to cover a sniffle with a sigh so that they stayed secret.
"Could I possibly sit beside you, I feel a rest would be beneficial." As Edward asked I shuffled an inch to the side, even though there was plenty of room.
There were a few moments of silence between us, although I could feel his eyes watching me.
"I apologise again for the intrusion on your time, but have we met before?" I glanced swiftly to the side and saw as he ducked slightly to get a better look at my face. My heart was calling to me, telling me to just look him in the eye, but I didn't because I knew I would just end up falling again. Falling far too deep into the green pools.
"I'm not entirely sure, Sir. Have we?" I took another glance at him and recognition flit across his frustratingly handsome face.
"Miss St Clair, yes? From the music store on sixth. I believe we met just a week ago." A small smile played on his lips and his eyes had that curious light again.
Damn him for his handsome face and sweet allure.
I felt my eyes become a steely stare before I could let the warmth of seeing him drift to the surface.
"...Oh yes. Mr Masen, I believe." I kept my reply short, tearing my eyes away from him to try and focus on my book. Anything to stop myself from studying the strong lines of his face.
"I have visited the music store a few more times since. I hoped I might see you again." I snapped my eye line back up to him and quirked my eyebrow, watching as he brushed another hand through his hair.
"For creative purposes," he said as he cleared his throat.
"For creative purposes?" I closed my book after marking my page and cocked my head in his direction.
"I found your playing rather inspiring, and I hoped I would have another chance to hear you perform." His eyes looked into mine shyly as his lips formed a faint crooked smile. On my immortal it had been blinding.
"Inspiring you say? From what I saw on that page, Mr Masen, you are lacking in neither talent nor creative inspiration," I said and found my snippy voice warming around the words. He had a sweet sense of insecurity that leaked out through his nervous actions and wary, shy glances. It pulled me in against my will, and somehow that gravity angered me.
I want freedom and choice, not an inescapable prison in the realms of love.
"Thank you, Miss St Clair. It is one of the first compositions I have found worthy of saving. Do you compose?"
"No." I hated the fact I had been so short with my answer, but I could feel my heart pounding every time I looked at him and the way the wind played in his bronze hair. I couldn't let it happen because I knew what would come next, the pain.
I smoothed the skirt of my dress and looked out over the pond while I tried to gather my thoughts and push the flutters of hope down to the pit of my stomach.
"Do you come here often, Miss St Clair?" I turned to looked at him and saw his eyes roving over my face. My blank, indifferent, face.
"Occasionally, I enjoy the fresh air." He nodded almost studying my features. What was he searching for? Was the crack visible on my surface? Was he looking for the way in to my inner thoughts and feelings? Those forbidden musings that whisper in my conscious depths.
The wind blew and a lock of hair stuck to my lip balm again. Before I could reach to remove it, Edward's tentative hand brushed it from its place, his fingertips lightly dancing across my cheek in the process.
I quickly turned my head away as I felt the blush rise in my cheeks. I registered Edward clearing his throat.
I suppressed the smile that seemed to tingle on my lips. Instead I forced them into a line, my brow frowning in the effort.
Stop it, stop it, stop it. You will not fall in love.
"I think I should go, Mr Masen. I am expected for tea," I said quietly before rising from the bench, my book in my hand.
"May I walk you? A lady shouldn't be made to walk through town alone." His eye's seemed so hopeful and deep down I relished in it, but on the surface I was just a polite mask.
"Thank you for the offer, but I enjoy, and prefer, the independence of walking alone."
"Perhaps, I could call on you one day? I would very much like to continue our conversation." I bowed my head as I felt a distant pang of sympathy. I would have loved to have walked the streets with him and continued our time together, but that was exactly the reason I had to say no. I wanted it too much for it to be anything but a bad thing.
"Mr Masen, I greatly appreciate your conversation and company, but I am not in the situation to encourage our interactions." My voice lost strength towards the end because I could feel myself feelings rebelling against the words.
"Until we meet again, then, Miss St Clair." He seemed to have either misread or ignored my warning as he looked at me with bright eyes and a glorious crooked smile. He was too wonderful for words.
"Good day, Mr Masen." I nodded sternly and marched down the gravel path, the suppressed smile creeping onto my face with every step. I felt my heart flutter as I thought of our interaction together and the innocent curiosity he had regarded me with. I felt almost giddy at his seemingly relentless interest in me - even though we had only met twice. I giggled quietly when I thought of how he had called me inspiring and then I stopped myself abruptly.
Damn, Edward Masen and his blush-inducing ways.