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    Hephaestus – Chapter 10

    Story written on November 10, 2008 by veba.
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    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 4028
    Story Shortlink: https://assertive-maroon-jellyfish.104-250-143-187.cpanel.site/?p=71581
    Author Notes:

    where’s the truth?

    CHAPTER 10

    Truth:
    Conformity to fact or actuality.
    A statement proven to be or accepted as true.
    Sincerity; integrity.
    Fidelity to an original or standard.
    Reality; actuality.
    Often Truth That which is considered to be the supreme reality and to have the ultimate meaning and value of existence.

    Shane raises on her elbow and moves a strand of hair behind Carmen’s ear.
    She kisses the tip of her nose.
    She’s watching her straight in the eyes and she isn’t scared anymore.
    She’s ready to know the truth.
    “Do you really want to talk?”, she asks with a low, wolfish voice.
    Carmen’s fingers are lingering on her face, tracing the contour of her jaw line, of her chin, of her lips, as if she’s trying to absorb – again – every little detail of Shane’s face.
    She uses to do that a lot, now.
    “Yes…”, she whispers with a sigh.

    Flashback – some months after Whistler – Boston

    The hotel room had a well packed minibar.
    Small bottles of gin, vodka, whiskey, a perfect assortment of spirits of all kinds.
    Carmen had tasted all of them.
    Then, she had started lining up all the tiny bottles, building a small stinky army on the nightstand beside her king-size
    – and empty –
    bed.
    She observed her new creation with a thoughtful, reflective face. Strands of hair hanging in front of her cloudy eyes, lips pursed, slightly shaking hands.
    She was in Boston for a couple of shows.
    At least, there’s something still working in this fucked up life of mine, she thought bitterly.
    During the gigs, she was perfectly capable to keep Shane out of her mind. She was engrossed in the music, entrapped in the rhythm, and totally concentrated on the spinning LPs, on the colored buttons, on the vibrant headphones she never took off. She had learned to fuse herself with her DJ boot and it worked.
    But when the show was over and she had to come back home, she always felt empty.
    Even the nameless streets of this unknown city reminded her of Shane.
    Shane, who had left her at the altar and then had the guts to knock at her door looking for one of her infamous one-night-stands.
    Shane, who was gone – vanished, literally – the morning after never coming back. As usual.
    Carmen grabbed a small bottle of Pampero from the nightstand and looked at it as if it was her ex-lover.
    “Fuck. You. McCutcheon”, she spelled attentively, rhythmically tapping the bottle on the hard wood surface.
    “You. Should. Really. Go. Fuck. Herself”, she added then, feeling the sour taste of spirit furrowing her mouth.
    She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, staring at the cars passing by outside the window.

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    Comments

    1. Just love how emotionally open Shane is and I´m with Carmen about the marriage thing. Might be a little too fast. Keep up the good work. I love it.

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