Title: From Across The Room
Part 7: The Pen 'Tis Mighty Indeed
Rating: PG-13
Author: Alse
E-mail: alsepang@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The truth is out there. 

AN: To all the readers who mailed and asked for
    more...THANK YOU very, very much for the warm
    comments. It was wonderful of you all.
    I'm very tired now...g'night...zzz...zzz


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

LATE NOVEMBER


        He saw her from across the room.

        "Hi, beautiful," Andrew murmured 
lovingly, dropping a tender kiss on his 
girlfriend's upturned face. "The prof 
blew a fuse after I accidentally blew up 
some stuff in the fume cupboard. 
Fortunately, no one was injured, except 
the fume cupboard, which is not fit for 
use at the moment...but let's not talk 
about that. Am I very late?"

       The pretty, brown-haired young woman 
laughed. "Not more so than usual. I 
haven't been bored, though. I've been 
reading this." She indicated the college 
newspaper she was reading. It was from 
the university in the next town. "This is 
the short-story competition I wanted to 
enter, the one open to all college 
undergraduates, whichever college 
they're from. I didn't win, but one of the 
winning entries is just so lovely and so 
sad."

       'Ten to one it's a soppy love story,' 
decided Andrew. "Go on, Rita," he said 
encouragingly.

     "Well, it's actually a sad romantic 
story--"

    'I *thought* so.' Andrew sighed
mentally, but he smiled attentively at his
girlfriend.

    "-- about a one-sided love, but it's 
beautifully written." Rita sighed deeply, 
her brown eyes misting over. "I really do 
think that this writer is amazingly brave. 
The man she loves could so easily find 
this. What's even stranger is that, well, 
the setting is remarkably like your 
parents' café. I can just imagine it! I 
really think that it's actually set there. 
Here, have a look. "

      Andrew took the paper and glanced at 
the third-prize entry Rita had pointed 
out to him. 'From Across The Room, by 
S. Taylor'. Hmmm. Now where had he 
come across the initial 'S' and the 
surname 'Taylor' before? To be sure, 
'Taylor' was an exceedingly common 
family name, but there was something 
very familiar about that combination. He 
looked at the first line of the story. 

    'I saw him from across the room. It was 
Valentine's Day, the fourteenth day of 
February...' Andrew ran his eyes down 
the lines.

     If Rita had been looking up at her 
boyfriend, she would have seen his face 
darken with anger and his eyes narrow. 

     Chocolate cupcake? Roses?

     Serena Taylor, that beautiful golden-
haired girl who had worked at his parents' 
café over the summer. It had to be her. Andrew
was furious. How could he have trusted her? 
Didn't that girl have any delicacy at all? 
She *knew* that it was a very private matter 
and yet she had used it for some dumb short-story
competition! If Darien *ever* found out 
about this, he would know that Andrew
had broken his trust--

     Abruptly, Andrew's good-looking face
blanched. It *couldn't* be! He went 
limp in his seat and lifted his eyes briefly, 
staring blankly ahead. 

     "Coincidence...pure coincidence..." he 
mumbled under his breath. "It just can't 
be..."

      The names had been changed, but 
everything else was the same.  However 
Andrew tried to convince himself, there 
was a harsh truth in the words, a truth 
that rang as-- well, as *true* as steel. 
The clincher, however, was in the 
second last part of the story. '...by the 
door, at the apartment where he lived, 
lay a card, a single, deep crimson rose, a 
package of chocolate cupcakes and a 
small gift, all hand-delivered...' 

     Andrew smiled sadly. He remembered 
the day after she had left. His best friend 
had burst into the café, his face and eyes 
flashing with a light and life that had not 
been there for a long time. 

    "Andrew! She remembers me! She's here, 
somewhere nearby!" the dark-haired 
young man's face was alight with 
happiness. He was going to find her; he
was finally going to meet the girl he had
dreamed of and loved for so long.

   Andrew sighed. His best friend had been 
overjoyed and had waited hopefully, but 
no more roses had come... 

   Everything made sense now. 

    Andrew remembered the day Serena had 
simply stood in the middle of the room, 
unmoving, her face white, big blue eyes 
wide and suddenly blank. He had had to 
steer her gently to the employees' lounge
at the back, where he sat her down on 
the couch. Even then, she hadn't moved 
an inch and sat there silently for some 
time before she suddenly got up and 
reverted to normal, going back to her 
duties as if nothing had happened. He 
had not linked it to the sudden 
appearance of his best friend with a girl 
on his arm.

       Now Andrew understood. He 
understood the reason why she had 
suddenly lost so much of her laughter, 
and why her smiles had seemed so 
strained. She had become quieter, and 
lost a good deal of weight. Andrew had 
been worried, but she had not said 
anything and he was too tactful to 
enquire further. Besides, his best friend 
had developed a sudden womanising 
streak that was so incredibly out of 
character that Andrew spent most of his 
waking time trying to decipher what had 
made Darien turn from woman-avoider 
to Casanova overnight.

     Andrew rubbed a hand over his forehead 
somewhat wearily and turned back to 
the paper. The last few paragraphs were 
reflective, but there was an undercurrent 
of poignancy in the words. He could 
almost hear Serena's voice, weary and 
resigned, as he read on.

    'I used to think that I would have a
happy-ever-after, that I would fall in 
love, and that the person I loved would 
love me in return. I know I'm not the 
first to suffer heartbreak-- millions before 
me have, and millions after me will--
and the time for dying of a broken heart 
is long gone. I must be strong. I have to be 
strong. I know I'll get over him-- no, I 
know I *must* get over him.

    'But what if I don't want to?

    'What if you love someone so much that
 you'd rather live with a shattered 
heart-- or a heart that he breaks every
time you see him with another-- than
live without your love for him? 

    'What if you love someone so deeply 
that he becomes a part of you-- not just your 
heart, but also your soul? How can you 
bear to tear out part of your soul?

    'What if you don't want to get over him, 
because losing your love for him would 
leave you incomplete? That to do so 
would mean losing a part of you forever, 
a part of which the losing cannot be 
borne because you can no longer 
imagine life without it?

     'What if your love for that person 
transcends everything, even your own 
pain, but particularly your own pain, so 
that you would choose to live with that 
love for him, because life without it 
would be unbearable?

   'Like every girl who's ever been born, 
I've had my own dreams of love, long 
before I had my first crush, my first 
infatuation, before I cried over a boy. It's 
just-- I didn't imagine-- I never 
thought-- it never crossed my mind--
that some day, I'd find out that this is 
what it means by love unrequited. 

    'I've thought everything over and it's
clear in my mind. I know where he is 
and I know how to find him. I know that 
I can tell him the truth if I choose, but I 
won't. I won't. I've sent him the last 
message he will ever receive from the
'dream girl' from years back. It's his 
birthday card. If I lie and tell him to find 
another because I love someone else, I 
would hurt him. I know what it's like to 
have shattered dreams and I can't do 
that to him. I've decided simply never to 
send him anything again. That way, he'll 
never be able to find me.

    'Time takes the edge off memories, dulls
them, heals wounds...I know that in 
time, he'll forget completely. That's the 
best thing that could happen. Then some 
day, he'll meet someone who will fulfil 
every requirement of his dream girl-
someone whom he'll really fall in love 
with and who will love him-- and 
perhaps he'll find her when he sees her 
across the room... as I saw him.' 

    Rita raised her head when she heard 
Andrew taking the Heavenly Father's 
name in vain.

   "Oh, my God-- oh, my God-- oh, my 
God--"

   "Andrew?" Rita waved her hand in front 
of him, breaking his blank stare at the 
paper. "I thought you wouldn't really 
like it, but that was unexpected."

    Andrew gestured helplessly. "Oh, my 
God--" It was all he seemed capable of 
saying.

    It was Rita's turn to sound encouraging. 
"Yes, dear. Go on."

    Andrew seemed to pull himself together. 
He passed a hand across his eyes. "It's 
Darien's girl, Rita." He proceeded to 
break his best friend's trust for the 
second time, telling Rita everything he 
knew-- the whole story from Andrew's
 point of view. Then he told Rita what 
he intended to do.

     "Are you sure of this?" Rita asked 
anxiously. She had met Andrew's best 
friend before. He was a tall, dark man 
who was undeniably handsome and 
charming, but who remained silent for 
most purposes. Rita was a little afraid of 
him and sometimes wondered how her 
cheerful, friendly and open Andrew 
could have become best friends with this 
quiet and secretive individual.

    Andrew looked down at S. Taylor's 
short story again. In his hands, he held 
the happiness of his best friend and of a 
very sweet girl. Even if she wasn't the 
dream girl-- and the chances of that were 
nil-- he was going to make his best friend 
give her a chance. His best friend was 
too lonely and too cooped up, and 
Andrew didn't like the idea of Casanova 
emerging again. The Casanova persona 
had disappeared together with the 
sudden appearance of the 'dream girl' 
and Andrew had been more than 
relieved. Serena would be wonderful for 
him.

     "Yes, I'm sure." Andrew's face was 
determined. "I still have those 
employment records down at the café 
and I think we might be able to trace her 
from there if we can't find her at her 
college. Will you come with me, Rita?"

    He would need a woman's touch for this. 
Andrew was a wise man and he knew 
that when it comes to the matters of the 
heart, there are times when it may well 
be that men are truly from Mars, and 
women, from Venus.


(c) 2001 Copyright original storyline by 
Alsepang


Japan defiantly continues to refuse to correct history
texts which whitewash its brutal military past and its 
harsh occupation of Korea, Taiwan and China. 

* A scowling Alse starts up her rocket launcher and
programmes it to target errant history text writers
in Japan and even more errant Japanese government
officials who let the books go!!! *