London
6.15pm
I am in a black hole my life moving slower and slower through time as I approach the phone, pick it up and start to dial the number. Transit through time as I have come to live it will halt, as my horizon fades completely from view torn and crushed.
The constant fear and muddled emotions like a blue frost caught me. As ‘She’ answered “hello, hello’ I freeze, dropping the receiver. Maybe I could wait until tomorrow, hold on to another day with Chris. I am desperate for him not to contradict me, not to swear ‘She’ does not exist but admit that the ‘non-entity’ as he describes her is in fact, his constant companion. At least then he would show me a gleamer of truth, of honest love.
I am frantic not to believe I am paranoid and crazy as he insists. Like some supernatural presence, I can sense ‘Her‘ being in his life, in our life. I am struggling to surface from a limited perspective of my one-dimensional life with Chris. My life is falling apart; I am fading like a dying bulb into darkness. I am terrified of the future without Chris but even more terrified of my life with him.
My constant knot of anxiety tightens, wrenching my gut, retching I rush into the bathroom, grab hold of the sink, turn on the tap and splash water on my face in an attempt calm myself down. My body is shaking uncontrollably. I lean against the cold stone of the basin and slowly raise my face to the mirror. I appear opaque. A dark shadow of myself. Suddenly, terror-struck at the ruthless solitude of my situation. My body swooned as I realised that no food had passed my lips all day, I was weak, tired and sick. My mind filled with one thought. Oh my God, Chris was a plotting profligate–a base and low rake who had been simulating undying love, to draw me into a snare he deliberately laid to strip me of my dignity, rob me of my self- respect and capture my life. A sharp pain in my chest caught my breath, and I struggled for air. He swore to me that ‘She’ was not his partner, that I was paranoid, jealous and ridiculous. I now know my time is limited and that exposing him and his lies are the only thing that will save me. But I am not ready for this right now. I know deep down that the moment will come, in which I will make that call that will explode my life.
7pm
I look all around, the darkness shrinking in and the sidewalk trees standing over me like an army of guards. The Skyscrapers like a jungle shielding the tears falling from the sky. The city is not just buildings and people. It feels like a battlefield of my losing fight.
For a second I wonder should I just give in. But then my mobile rings, and it’s Chris. I find myself off balance for a moment, and then my mind instinctively shifts back to the present moment. I answer the call.
“Hi, How are you? I miss you. I hate you being in London and me all alone in Dublin” he bellows sounding full of the joys of life.
“I am okay darling.” I gasp. I take a deep breath to steady my voice. “I am walking to the Frieze Art Fair opening. It’s lashing, can I call you when I get into a dry, quiet place.”
“Okay, but make it quick. Don’t keep me waiting. I want to talk to you. Love you loads.” and Chris hung up.
A frigid gust of wind sweeps up; I wrap my jacket tightly around me as I quicken my step to Regents Park where Frieze Art Fair is based.
This is story of Eventide Love.
We are on the way with Eventide Love; blog to book. A factual fiction, psychological, erotic thriller based on the Presidential Election set in Ireland 2011/2012.
If you would like to receive a book launch offer especially for all of you as loyal followers and fans, please register below. Your details will not be shared. I am wracked with doubts and insecurity about my writing but am lucky to have a wonderful editor, Amy Scott, holding my hand.
Eventide Love 
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