Mirabelle, a love story.
I fell in love with Mirabelle the very first time that I saw her, when I was standing at my bus stop on my way to work. She was perfection, so graceful and so beautiful. Of course I had no way of knowing if her name really was Mirabelle, but that didn’t matter to me, all I knew was that I wanted her desperately. She was in a different world to mine though and all she could ever be was a sweet delicious fantasy. Its good to have dreams and ambitions but sometimes a man can aim too far and when that happens the fall back to earth is so much harder, but still I can dream. Nobody can take my dreams away. I saw her most days, with HIM, always with HIM and I didn’t like the look of HIM at all, more so because HE had her, my Mirabelle. I took a few surreptitious pictures of them with my mobile telephone and then one day I saw her standing all alone in the Town Square and I rushed into a shop to purchase a disposable camera. I was careful not to be seen, in case HE came back, and I used up all the film. Those glorious secret images, blown up to poster size, adorn the walls of my humble flat and every day when I wake up, there she is, staring down from my wall, Mirabelle.
Love is always entwined with lust at first, but when the lust had been sated the love will endure if it is strong and with me and Mirabelle the lust would always be there; my need to possess her, to take her, to make her my slave as I was already hers – but it could never be. The weeks of longing became months and the months became years. I was making slow progress in my job, but I was still a world away from my Mirabelle and HIM. I saw HIM so often and I saw the way HE treated her, and I resented HIM with all my heart. Sometimes I daydreamed of killing him and taking her from him but it was only a wild fantasy, something to keep me amused and let me pretend that she was mine.
Five years after she came unknowingly into my sad and humdrum life, she vanished. A whole week went by and I hadn’t seen her. Another week and then a month and still no Mirabelle, or HIM either. They had gone! I was distraught. How could this be, how could fate be so cruel to me ? I took some pictures of her (and HIM), and I went to some of the places that I had seen them visit – I knew them all. I asked after her and got nothing but a shake of the head until at last somebody told me that they HE had moved to the Coast and taken her with him.
Fate was not as cruel as I believed. A distant Aunt died and left no money but she left me her house. When I went to visit the lawyer to collect the deeds to my unexpected inheritance I discovered that my long lost Aunt’s house was in a newly fashionable part of the city. The house was sold and suddenly, I was a very wealthy young man, so I found myself a new home, on the Coast close to my Mirabelle. I had only been there a week when I saw them again and how my heart leapt. She looked a little tired now, a few lines showed here and there and I could see that the strain of her very existence was beginning to weaken her – how I despised HIM for it. I had money now so I made a plan. It did not take long to follow him to his Golf Club (I had often followed them before and I knew how much he played the silly game, making her wait around all day at the clubhouse until he finished his game). I had no idea how to swing a club but money can buy a lot of professional tuition. After six months I was able to play a reasonable game and still more money saw me a member of HIS club. I was so near to her I wanted to reach out and touch her, but no, patience, wait, soon I will have her – Oh thank you Great Aunt Doris.
It took a great effort but over time I befriended HIM at the clubhouse. It only cost me a few games and a few rounds of drinks and in no time at all I was part of HIS inner circle. Time passed and I still had no idea of her real name but from time to time he chatted about her, about how she let him down all the time and how things had not turned out as he had hoped, how disappointed he was, the swine! I listened, unable to believe that he could speak of her that way, but at the same time hoping he would eventually give her up altogether. I had no idea if she was right for me, but how can you ever know ? As far as she was concerned I did not exist, but still I hoped. Then the day came that HE arrived at the club and announced, yes he actually ANNOUNCED, to one and all that he had dumped her, slung her out! HE said I was welcome to her and good riddance. I was torn between my emotions, elation that she was at last free, sadness and anger for what HE had done to her, but as if in a fever I ran from the club in search of my Mirabelle.
I found her at the Railway station, lonely and abandoned. It was raining and when I touched her (I TOUCHED HER!), she felt wet and cold. I took my heart in my mouth and took her back to my home – with no more intent than to care for her you understand. She only just made it back, she was in such a bad way and I knew then that I would have to spend all my time with her, or else I would lose her forever. It was not too late though and I toiled day and night, attending her every need. Sometimes I was so ill myself I thought I could not carry on but then, the more I tried the closer we became, Mirabelle and me.
At long last she was back to her old self and I was so proud of her. I could not believe that after fifteen years, Mirabelle was really mine. HE asked after her now and then but I could tell HE had no real interest and in time I stopped going to the Golf Club altogether. I will never forget that day in August though, the day I took her for the first time. It was inevitable I suppose, love, lust, all corrupted as they are. How much longer could I resist her intoxicating allure? I knew her every innermost secret now, she had laid bare her very soul for me in a way HE never saw. We both knew it would happen and I did not want to rush it, just let the right moment arise and then, and then....
Oh sweet rapture! It just happened ! I took her completely. I know I was fast and frantic and clumsy but there was so much passion that I had held back for so long. I turned the key and her V12 burst into life with a great roar, much too loud for a lady but then, my Mirabelle was no lady, she was an animal. Together we charged down narrow country lanes and along the motorways. I saw HIM one more time and he was so envious of us, but HE had her when they were both too young to know any better, and now, now she was mine !
Two years later the engine seized up so I sold her to a scrap metal merchant. No more boiling radiators, no more brakes that don’t, no more oil leaking over my neat brick driveway, no more breakdowns in the rain at 3am in the middle of nowhere. Classic cars ? You can stuff ‘em. Anyway, must dash off now, I have eighteen holes booked with Joe. Joe ? Oh yeah, Joe was the guy who passed that heap of crap onto me; he turned out to be a great bloke and we play a round or two of Golf whenever we can.
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