It was a tumultuous few weeks. The Candidate started at the top of the polls. The support dramatically dropping as each week progressed finally heading into election day with a dismal six percent support in the latest poll. Unsurprisingly the Candidate ended up with just over a hundred thousand first preference votes finishing fifth of the seven candidates. The voting percentage was disastrous for him. It did not qualify him to receive the two hundred and fifty thousand euro rebate against campaign expenses. One significant disadvantage with Cathal hijacking the campaign was a lack of financial transparency. However, I reckoned the spend had to be in excess of three hundred thousand with only twenty thousand funding raised.
Do I feel sorry for him at this moment? The honest answer is No. He enabled the chaos. He would not speak to me, trust me, the only one other than Brian, who had no agenda. I tried to support him. He fervently rejected my effort to liaise with him, his deep dislike for Chris spilling over into his sentiment towards me. His arrogance became his Achilles heel. Detail after detail, the campaign unfolded in disarray. His intuition proved resistant to his brilliant rational evidenced in his Senate debates. It was like bacteria outwitting an antibacterial agent. The man I thought I knew exposed a mercurial nature as integral to him as his name and age.
Chris unlocks the front door holding it open, I move past his body into the dark hall, going straight to turn off the alarm. I am bone weary. We have now been on our feet for virtually twelve hours. A lot of that time bunkered in the count centre at Dublin Castle.
“Let’s go to bed.” In the obscurity of the night Chris takes my hand and pulls me up behind him.
I drag myself upstairs, my body aching.
“Chris I was thinking?”
“Really.” He sounds worn out.
“What happens to us now,” I ask my eyes suddenly welling up in tears. I wearily sit still on the side of the bed. Chris taking of his cloths watches me.
“Are you going to get undressed?” he asks
Tears flow down my face. I sit there motionless overcome with emotion. Without a word Chris now undressed moves over to me. First he takes off my jacket, then lifts my arms hiking my shirt over my head. He raises me from the bed and evocatively runs his hands down the side of my body reaching the band of my skinny pants then unzipping and letting them drop to the floor. I think he wants sex. Not tonight. Could he be so insensitive?
“Take off your shoes,” he whispers into my ear. Now gently crying I obey. He presses his lips soft to my forehead. Gently tracing the outline of my face he wipes away a tear speaking softly.
“What’s wrong cupcake?” his voice full of tenderness.
“It suddenly hit me as we drove home. It’s all over.” I gulped ” Where do we go from here? We don’t have the campaign anymore.”
He climbed into bed patting the sheet for me to lay down beside him. My cheeks still damp from the tears, I cuddle into him. He pulls the duvet over our bodies, cloaking us in warmth. Soothingly, he delicately smothers my face in kisses. His mouth absorbs my dewy lips. His softness is soothing me. My eyes are fluttering shut. He then turns me to my side, away from him, and entwines his hard body around me.
“I love you Chris,” I croakily whisper.
“Shh Aliki go to sleep, love you more.”
I fell into an exhausted and deep sleep enveloped in his hug, consoled by his sensitivity.
Eventide is a Factual Fiction Psychological Thriller; in the course of a year two people intertwine in two tales of passion and survival; duplicity and destruction. We are are on the way with the blog to book. If you would like to receive a book launch offer especially for you as a loyal follower and fan, please register below. Your details will not be shared. PROMISE.