I wrote this without editing and completely out of sequence - in fact my writing partner and I are still outlining the story. But I feel that the main characters are forming, at least in my mind, Alex, Christopher and Rebecca belonged to me and I know how they are, who they should be. They are essentially my babies.. Mainly because I had that visual in my head. I wanted to capture it before it went away. In this segment of the novel, Rebecca was going to tell Christopher about Alex's existence. And it started to explore the changing dynamics between Rebecca and Christopher.
The challenge that I'm having with Alex, is that I actually feels quite sympathetic towards him. I feel that he did love and is convinced that he loved Rebecca, whereas Christopher's love for Rebecca was more abstract. I think of them competing for her affection in a way that will advance the book, and conflict for that matter. It gave me the vision of the first half of the story would be a love story of Alex and Rebecca. And Christopher would be in the background. Have not thought all through them. But as art does imitate life, I must confess I already knew who inspired Alex's character and who inspired Christopher's character. As for Marilyn, and Dr. Braun, they are not far away from my circle of people either. Rebecca is a mix of two people I know as well.
Rebecca phoned Christopher. She’s hesitant for a moment, as to whether to tell him over the phone about Alex. But the phone just rang and went straight to Christopher’s voicemail. She had only his cell phone She knew he preferred to text. Most people these days only texted. She still preferred calling. She preferred the human interaction. She preferred to talk and hear someone’s voice. Christopher very rarely returned calls. She left a voicemail anyhow. “Hi Christopher, it’s me. Rebecca. It’s been a few months, I thought we should catch up, and grab a bite to eat, perhaps in the Mission? I have news.”
She hang up the phone in a hurry, and stared at the office wall. Technically she does not have an office. Few people in the firm had an office, but because of her position, she had a half office, one which she shared with Marilyn. She had an office mate. Marilyn is out for lunch. Rebecca always ate at her desk, usually a salad, which she often picked up at a local salad bar. She ate at her desk and flipped through Facebook, mostly checking out on what her “Facebook friends”, aka “Matthew’s little friends’ parents were up to and get some news feed. Mostly on school’s budget deficit issues.
Rebecca thought about how Christopher would react to her relationship with Alex. It would not have mattered to him, she thought to herself. Christopher was never one who divulged his feelings towards Rebecca, and as far as she knew, he never really had anything but brotherly feeling towards her. He would be happy, he was never really involved in Matthew’s life. While he always attended his birthday parties Rebecca threw for Matthew, he rarely stayed for more than an hour. There would always be these single mothers, or married mothers, for that matter, hovering over Christopher. Christopher was never really impressed with anyone, or shown any interest in them. He seemed – asexual. He was always polite, cordial, even friendly towards these women, he’d carry on a conversation with them, sometimes for more than half an hour, and it would almost seem that he’d walk home with one of them, at least those women felt that way, and then he’d just excuse himself, gave Matthew a big hug, kiss Rebecca on her forehead, and make a dash out of the door. Leaving a roomful of hopefully women, wishing that he had taken them with him. He had always work to attend to, he would apologize to Rebecca. He would also later write to Rebecca, “How was Matthew’s party?”, as if he didn’t even make it to the party. Half of the time Rebecca wanted to reply, “It was great until you left the room, leaving a roomful of women lusting over you.” But she knew Christopher would not have appreciated the humor in it, he was a serious man. He wrote proper emails, always ends with “Best”, and never seem to have a sense of humor. That made her worried about Christopher’s reaction towards Alex. Because Alex was not a known quantity. It took a while for Christopher to warm up to Marilyn, who’s her best friend.
Alex was the opposite of Christopher. He’s significantly taller, athletic, broad shouldered, loud, extremely handsome, and had those blue eyes that melted women’s heart. He was a California native, who was educated in Boston and moved back to California. He had a sunny disposition that often attracted women, and he knew that about him. He was self assured, confident and completely comfortable around strangers. More importantly, he seemed to love Matthew. He had gone to parks with him, took him to ride the steam train in Tilden Park, and rode bikes with Matthew at Ocean Beach.
Christopher had stayed away from Matthew the entire time. He had always been busy, that was his excuse, He was busy building up his practice, traveling to see his clients, presenting his research at the academic conferences and pharmaceutical companies.
Rebecca had once thought that one day Christopher would slow down, and find time for her and Matthew, and maybe they’d begin dating. After all, they’ve been friends for fifteen years. But somehow it just never happened. Now it would be too late.
Christopher was on a sales call when he saw Rebecca’s number popped up. For some reason, he never felt comfortable talking on the phone, unless he initiated the call and knew exactly what he needed to say. He was not a phone person. He never was. He preferred texting. Short, to the point. He wrote emails like texting. He felt that was a way of having a real conversation. He didn’t bother with mincing words. He didn’t contemplate when writing a note. He wrote quickly, thoughtfully and then he hit the send button.
Whenever Rebecca called, she would give him a count of what her current life situation was like. He had found it a little irritating, in part because he hated himself for caring just a little too much, in fact, he found himself formulating questions in his head as she told him about her life. He rarely asked those questions. He wanted to know more and he hated himself for that. He didn’t want to be involved in her life, there was a part of him who knew somehow it would be for the best, for the two of them, but part of him wanted to know more, and he was irritated by that desire, the secret desire of wanting to know more about her life. She would sometime ramble on, and he liked listening to her, despite the fact he knew instinctively he should stop liking it. He would rarely ask questions, he just wanted to hear her voice, and he hated himself for that too.
He wanted that sense of control, the sense where he knew where and when the conversation should end. He wanted her to stop talking. He often felt that sense of unease, the sense of wanting to be near her, to hold her, and that scared him as well. That feeling had become more intense over the past eight months, after he started to taking the memory drugs that his firm has been developing, he didn’t tell anyone that, but he was testing the drug out himself. It was dangerous, and the side effect was unknown but he thought it would be prudent to try it out, in small dosage. He was somehow reckless that way.
He had instead finding himself drawn to the thoughts of Rebecca more than anything else. He dreamed about her, more to the point, he dreamed about sleeping with her, her curled up, naked body against his, her soft hair tickling his bare chest, her perfume intoxicating to him and familiar. It truly startled Christopher.
Then there was those raining winter nights. He would stare at his computer, and looking at Rebecca’s Facebook account, where she flashed a big smile, holding Matthew, often at a park, sometimes in front of his school yard, and he would drift into a dream state of desire. He imagined to take her to a hotel, he would meet her there, already Champaign on hand, she would rush into the door, in her business suits, and he would scoop her up, taken her directly to bed. He would tie her hands up with his nautical white ropes, he would blindfold her, and he would undress her down, and then enter her. His mouth would be on hers, they would kiss as if they were no tomorrow. Those were the recurring dreams, and he would find her kissing so intoxicatingly sweet, all he wanted to do was to bring her the pleasure but he found himself wanting nothing but just being inside of her, thrashing aside, he felt that when he was inside of her, they were of one, and they breathed the same air, they drank from the same fountain of youth, and they were one. Those were not sexual fantasies exactly, those were intense love feeling. Christopher knew that much. He knew that he possibly harbored deeper feeling for Rebecca. It was more than just a physical sense of desire, there was a sense of belonging. It was not that he belonged to Rebecca, and vice versa, it was as if they belonged with each other. They were each other’s water, each other’s air, and they needed each other to survive. And that notion, that fantasy, scared the living lights out of Christopher.
The challenge that I'm having with Alex, is that I actually feels quite sympathetic towards him. I feel that he did love and is convinced that he loved Rebecca, whereas Christopher's love for Rebecca was more abstract. I think of them competing for her affection in a way that will advance the book, and conflict for that matter. It gave me the vision of the first half of the story would be a love story of Alex and Rebecca. And Christopher would be in the background. Have not thought all through them. But as art does imitate life, I must confess I already knew who inspired Alex's character and who inspired Christopher's character. As for Marilyn, and Dr. Braun, they are not far away from my circle of people either. Rebecca is a mix of two people I know as well.
Rebecca phoned Christopher. She’s hesitant for a moment, as to whether to tell him over the phone about Alex. But the phone just rang and went straight to Christopher’s voicemail. She had only his cell phone She knew he preferred to text. Most people these days only texted. She still preferred calling. She preferred the human interaction. She preferred to talk and hear someone’s voice. Christopher very rarely returned calls. She left a voicemail anyhow. “Hi Christopher, it’s me. Rebecca. It’s been a few months, I thought we should catch up, and grab a bite to eat, perhaps in the Mission? I have news.”
She hang up the phone in a hurry, and stared at the office wall. Technically she does not have an office. Few people in the firm had an office, but because of her position, she had a half office, one which she shared with Marilyn. She had an office mate. Marilyn is out for lunch. Rebecca always ate at her desk, usually a salad, which she often picked up at a local salad bar. She ate at her desk and flipped through Facebook, mostly checking out on what her “Facebook friends”, aka “Matthew’s little friends’ parents were up to and get some news feed. Mostly on school’s budget deficit issues.
Rebecca thought about how Christopher would react to her relationship with Alex. It would not have mattered to him, she thought to herself. Christopher was never one who divulged his feelings towards Rebecca, and as far as she knew, he never really had anything but brotherly feeling towards her. He would be happy, he was never really involved in Matthew’s life. While he always attended his birthday parties Rebecca threw for Matthew, he rarely stayed for more than an hour. There would always be these single mothers, or married mothers, for that matter, hovering over Christopher. Christopher was never really impressed with anyone, or shown any interest in them. He seemed – asexual. He was always polite, cordial, even friendly towards these women, he’d carry on a conversation with them, sometimes for more than half an hour, and it would almost seem that he’d walk home with one of them, at least those women felt that way, and then he’d just excuse himself, gave Matthew a big hug, kiss Rebecca on her forehead, and make a dash out of the door. Leaving a roomful of hopefully women, wishing that he had taken them with him. He had always work to attend to, he would apologize to Rebecca. He would also later write to Rebecca, “How was Matthew’s party?”, as if he didn’t even make it to the party. Half of the time Rebecca wanted to reply, “It was great until you left the room, leaving a roomful of women lusting over you.” But she knew Christopher would not have appreciated the humor in it, he was a serious man. He wrote proper emails, always ends with “Best”, and never seem to have a sense of humor. That made her worried about Christopher’s reaction towards Alex. Because Alex was not a known quantity. It took a while for Christopher to warm up to Marilyn, who’s her best friend.
Alex was the opposite of Christopher. He’s significantly taller, athletic, broad shouldered, loud, extremely handsome, and had those blue eyes that melted women’s heart. He was a California native, who was educated in Boston and moved back to California. He had a sunny disposition that often attracted women, and he knew that about him. He was self assured, confident and completely comfortable around strangers. More importantly, he seemed to love Matthew. He had gone to parks with him, took him to ride the steam train in Tilden Park, and rode bikes with Matthew at Ocean Beach.
Christopher had stayed away from Matthew the entire time. He had always been busy, that was his excuse, He was busy building up his practice, traveling to see his clients, presenting his research at the academic conferences and pharmaceutical companies.
Rebecca had once thought that one day Christopher would slow down, and find time for her and Matthew, and maybe they’d begin dating. After all, they’ve been friends for fifteen years. But somehow it just never happened. Now it would be too late.
Christopher was on a sales call when he saw Rebecca’s number popped up. For some reason, he never felt comfortable talking on the phone, unless he initiated the call and knew exactly what he needed to say. He was not a phone person. He never was. He preferred texting. Short, to the point. He wrote emails like texting. He felt that was a way of having a real conversation. He didn’t bother with mincing words. He didn’t contemplate when writing a note. He wrote quickly, thoughtfully and then he hit the send button.
Whenever Rebecca called, she would give him a count of what her current life situation was like. He had found it a little irritating, in part because he hated himself for caring just a little too much, in fact, he found himself formulating questions in his head as she told him about her life. He rarely asked those questions. He wanted to know more and he hated himself for that. He didn’t want to be involved in her life, there was a part of him who knew somehow it would be for the best, for the two of them, but part of him wanted to know more, and he was irritated by that desire, the secret desire of wanting to know more about her life. She would sometime ramble on, and he liked listening to her, despite the fact he knew instinctively he should stop liking it. He would rarely ask questions, he just wanted to hear her voice, and he hated himself for that too.
He wanted that sense of control, the sense where he knew where and when the conversation should end. He wanted her to stop talking. He often felt that sense of unease, the sense of wanting to be near her, to hold her, and that scared him as well. That feeling had become more intense over the past eight months, after he started to taking the memory drugs that his firm has been developing, he didn’t tell anyone that, but he was testing the drug out himself. It was dangerous, and the side effect was unknown but he thought it would be prudent to try it out, in small dosage. He was somehow reckless that way.
He had instead finding himself drawn to the thoughts of Rebecca more than anything else. He dreamed about her, more to the point, he dreamed about sleeping with her, her curled up, naked body against his, her soft hair tickling his bare chest, her perfume intoxicating to him and familiar. It truly startled Christopher.
Then there was those raining winter nights. He would stare at his computer, and looking at Rebecca’s Facebook account, where she flashed a big smile, holding Matthew, often at a park, sometimes in front of his school yard, and he would drift into a dream state of desire. He imagined to take her to a hotel, he would meet her there, already Champaign on hand, she would rush into the door, in her business suits, and he would scoop her up, taken her directly to bed. He would tie her hands up with his nautical white ropes, he would blindfold her, and he would undress her down, and then enter her. His mouth would be on hers, they would kiss as if they were no tomorrow. Those were the recurring dreams, and he would find her kissing so intoxicatingly sweet, all he wanted to do was to bring her the pleasure but he found himself wanting nothing but just being inside of her, thrashing aside, he felt that when he was inside of her, they were of one, and they breathed the same air, they drank from the same fountain of youth, and they were one. Those were not sexual fantasies exactly, those were intense love feeling. Christopher knew that much. He knew that he possibly harbored deeper feeling for Rebecca. It was more than just a physical sense of desire, there was a sense of belonging. It was not that he belonged to Rebecca, and vice versa, it was as if they belonged with each other. They were each other’s water, each other’s air, and they needed each other to survive. And that notion, that fantasy, scared the living lights out of Christopher.
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