Participants:
| Scene Title | Let Love In |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After three years of not knowing… The end of fear is where we begin |
| Date | September 18, 2010 |
Nestled in the heart of the main street marketplace, the Ichihara Bookstore is an old and crooked structure pressed between two newer high-rise tenement buildings. The old glass windows and creaking wooden door on the shop's front give it a rustic and old-world feel. Catering to both antique books and newer prints, the narrow aisles and tall shelves are packed full of literature. A single shelf for periodicals lies near the front counter, while signage both out front by the register and in the back of the store indicates that tarot card reading is done on-site at request for ten dollars per reading.
Behind the old and weathered wooden counter that contains the register and a small stack of reserved books, a narrow wooden staircase leads upwards to a black wooden door with peeling paint, revealing red paint in narrow strips beneath, a rope crossing in front of that door hangs with a small sign that reads, "Private".
You wait, wanting this world
To let you in
A week… For a week Edgar has known that Lydia is in New York city. A week that he's been searching wildly, putting everything else to the wayside as he tries to find her. No leads. Just Ink was a dead end, she hasn't been there for months. They felt sorry for him there, though they wouldn't give him the number they had for her, the man that owned the shop did take his. If he ever heard from Lydia, he'd be sure to pass along Edgar's (Augusto's) phone number. He didn't feel safe leaving his real name, Augusto was almost too great a risk. He didn't leave a last name.
And you stand there
A frozen light
In dark and empty streets
Sitting curbside on a Saturday morning, Edgar looks very much like one of the other panhandlers looking for a handout. In his worn down corduroys, scuffed and battered work boots, a t-shirt that fits him all too well, he stares at the ground, feeling the cool September breeze that heralds the coming of winter. He hates the winter. He hates the cold.
You smile hiding behind
A God-given face
But I know you're so much more
Everything they ignore
Is all that I need to see
A flutter of neon green swirls around his feet and he steps on it, another piece of trash to add to the dust bin when he feels like getting up. Idly, he unfolds it and passes his eyes over the little advert, Ichihara Bookstore. His eyes narrow as he reads; books, tarot, tattoos… He's been there. It was the place that had his… car—
The high pitched whistle of wind is all that's left.
You're the only one I ever believed in
The answer that could never be found
The moment you decided to let love in
Now I'm banging on the door of an angel
The end of fear is where we begin
The moment we decided to let love in
For what feels like the first time in weeks Ichihara Bookstore is silent. Completely silent. The kittens are safely tucked away in the basement with Huruma while Gabriel, the beast, is hidden away in the loft. There are no customers as the store is officially closed. And from the looks of things? No employees either. No one is standing at the counter. No one is cleaning near the door. The only real indication that anyone is here rests on the counter and wafts through the air. That distinct lavender oil scent fills the room. Yet the sole human occupant lingers in the back of the store — behind several bookshelves, examining the contents and contemplating a selection for the afternoon.
I wish
Wishing for you to find your way
And I'll hold on for all you need
That's all we need to say
With near silent steps Lydia shuffles around the shelves, towards the front of the store. Her head tilts as she examines the titles, still unsure what she should occupy her afternoon with; she'd considered lighting candles and having a quiet afternoon, but what would be the point? At least she's doing something and keeping herself distracted. A vague glance is given to the door and then returned to the books. This has been the rule of thumb lately, quiet, even when they're opened. Quietly, she shuffles down the row of books. Her skirt spills underneath her in a cascade of orange and yellow like she's wearing fire while she runs her fingers through her hair, raking it over her left shoulder, leaving her back virtually bare aside from the tie of her white halter. The imprint of her ink is directly exposed and distinctly Lydia with the curl and colour of the flower-laden vineyard. Her pointer finger slowly runs across the titles while quiet contemplation continues in this space.
I'll take my chances while
You take your time with
This game you play
A sound, exactly like three years ago interrupts the woman as she primps among the shelves.
BAM
The bell over the door didn't even have time to jingle as it's thrown off its hinges.
But I can't control your soul
You need to let me know
You leaving or you gonna stay
Standing in the middle of the threshold is a ghost of the woman's past. His fauxhawk spiked in odd places, some of it tampered down with the wind of a high speed run. He ran through the blockade, it's likely the immense security of the island is on their way to finding him now. But there he stands with a stunned expression on his face and tears in his eyes, simply staring at her. Edgar.
"Lydia…"
You're the only one I ever believed in
The answer that could never be found
The moment you decided to let love in
The sound, in all of its familiarity, draws goosebumps along Lydia's shoulders and neck. There's little time to reason or reflect on the sound before another breaks the silence — her name. That voice. A sick feeling grows in her stomach — something between nerves and excitement — as her own eyes sting with tears. The disappointment that's spanned the last few weeks mocks the little hope growing at the voice, the spark of hope that she'd clung to earlier. Her shoulders tremble slightly against the emotion building inside her.
Now I'm banging on the door of an angel
The end of fear is where we begin
The moment we decided to let love in
Slowly, carefully, she turns to face him, her dark eyes reddened by her strain to conceal the tears. At the sight of him there's a quick gasp for breath — her shoulders, chest, and back tensing underneath the emotion she can't press away. Tears fall from her eyes in a trail of moisture down her cheeks. Her lips press together firmly and her chin quivers as she tries to contain it, but it's futile. There's an unusual softness in her features as she stares at him, almost frozen in time and space. She shuffles forward, a single step, unsure if this isn't just some dream or illusion, eyebrows furrowing.
When she finally speaks her voice comes out a croaked whisper, rather than its usual rich controlled cadence, there's a different weight to it in all its longing, "Edgar."
Her heart pounds within her chest as she trembles against the emotion again, choosing to shuffle forward further, her arms spreading to embrace him, to feel the realness of the assume illusion against her, and to drink him in.
There's nothing we can do about
The things we have to do without
The tightness in his chest is something he's never felt before. It constricts to the point that the speedster is unable to take a single breath, and so he doesn't. The breath caught in his throat is a quickly taken in as a gasp as Lydia turns to face him. When she does, it's like time has frozen around the two of them. The sun plays off her hair like one of those Asian cartoons where the golden tressed woman turns to face the hero in a glow of bright white warmth. But Lydia breaks the spell when she takes that one step forward, releasing him from his stupor.
A dream. It has to be a dream. After so many years it's almost too good to be true.
The only way to feel again
Is let love in
"Lydia…" he repeats and in a blur, he's directly in front of her. His hands gripping the tops of her arms tightly, just like the last time he saw her alive. "Lydia…" It's the only word he knows, the one name that's kept him going since he came back to the trailer to find her gone.
Whether she accepts him or not, he leans down to finish what started three years ago. His lips capture hers in a novice kiss, his first. His eyes squeeze shut and he tightens his hold around her arms, almost lifting her from the ground in an attempt to bring her closer.
There's nothing we can do about
The things we have to do without
Lydia's fingertips rise to his cheeks inside his grip, grazing his whiskers in gentle affection, unrepressed after too much time apart and too much heartache to count. She leans into the kiss, her longing extending, and her eyes closing at the contact. Her hands caress his cheeks.
Where there was room for doubt on her emotions before, there's little now. Moments later she breaks the kiss and plants a softer one along the side of his lips like an odd punctuation to the first. Her eyes flutter open, searching for his, uneasiness creeping back into her soul. She sniffles loudly, an action that reverberates through her body through small nuanced trembles.
The only way to feel again
Is let love in
"I…" her cheeks flush as she croaks around her still streaming tears. Joy. Pain. Elation. Sorrow. Everything at once. Her eyes close again in an attempt to gain her courage, Kaylee's words pushing her forward. When she manages to speak she finishes what she'd intended that night three years ago, but it comes out in a whisper. "I love you…"
You're the only one I ever believed in
The answer that could never be found
The moment you decided to let love in
Now I'm banging on the door of an angel
The end of fear is where we begin
The moment we decided to let love in