Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott
Same script, different cast
…
.. 438
The empty room in my heart
…
.. 454
Forget me not
…
because I sure as hell won
’
t forget you
…
.. 470
Anatomy of a relationship
…
.. 473
Under the banner of love
…
.. 513
When the real work begins
…
.. 531
If you don
’
t succeed, dust yourself up and try again
…
.. 547
Happy Birthday, smile! Part II
. 552
The way you look tonight
…
.. 600
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mother, Luna.
I would also like to thank Jean who infuriated
me enough to force me to focus on my writing.
And, let
’
s not forget the Lord without whom I
simply wouldn
’
t
be here today.
Thank you.
“
The meeting of two personalities is like
the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are
transformed.
”
–
Carl Jung-
Preface
Every guy has been there and if you haven
’
t, you will.
It's like quicksand. You don't see it coming
and when you do, it's too late. You
’
re sinking.
When I met her, I didn't realize I was in
over my head. The idea was actually preposterous
…
Had anyone told me she was my quicksand, I
would have called them certifiable. She was nothing like the women I usually
got involved with. But somehow, every interaction led to something I didn
’
t see coming.
Before I knew it, I was sucked in and the
woman of my dreams was nothing like I
’
d imagined her.
You know what they say about quicksand,
the more you struggle the faster you sink. And, that
’
s how she turned my life upside down.
This is our story, from beginning until the end.
I am telling it, but so is she, as are a
few other people who had the chance or misfortune to be involved in it with us.
We all have our points of view, our
truths, our lies, our thoughts, our desires, our fears; and then, there
’
s fate. Synchronicities at work, if you
ask me
…
If I was to elaborate, I
’
d start by asking you this:
Have you ever crossed path with
The
One?
Yeah, you know
The One
I'm taking
about...
him or her
. That person who captured your heart like a thief in
the night, shook you to the core, and ultimately changed the course of your
life.
The One,
better known as your saviour or tormentor, creator of
your highest highs and architect of your lowest lows.
I have met
The One
, and call me
crazy, but I wouldn
’
t change anything.
Sydney. Darling Harbour. Australia. January 2011.
Soon. We will meet again, soon.
It
’
s been just over five years. Five long
years since I have seen her, touched her, fucked her.
You
’
d think I
’
d be despondent.
I
’
m in a good mood. In fact, I
’
m feeling great.
Things are going my way again. So much so,
I am whistling the first aria of
La
Traviata
,
her favourite opera. The irony is not lost on me.
I
’
m looking at her photograph. It
’
s the first item of the file that is on my
desk. It was taken just a day ago.
She is in Kowloon, Hong Kong, on her cell
phone, talking. A cup of coffee in one hand, her sunglasses perched on her
hair, her long curls cascading around her face, and she
’
s looking straight ahead.
Beautiful. Still.
My breath catches in my throat.
Yes, beautiful. She still can cause a man
to stop breathing.
She looks well, unsuspecting. A curve at
her lips.
Beautiful.
Soon.
Very soon.