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    Best Thing That’s Ever Happened To Me

    You see, no one who hasn’t had their hearts broken would know what that sounds like.  You never forget the first time it happens, especially.  The feeling, the memory of what was going on around you at that precise moment, the sound of the rain and screech of the trains, in my case, and the inability to move or even stand – this is something you can’t fake.  The sound of your cries; the way the air seemed to swirl; the way your lungs felt like they weren’t getting enough air because you had stopped breathing.

    So, if I ever spoke about it, I know now that that’s where I’d start.  The sound of a heart breaking.

    In the end, I’d never told anyone about us; my new-found bravado to announce the sudden realization that I didn’t love men; that, in fact, I loved a woman.   I loved you.  That bravado, born in the confidence of an eternal love, seeped away on that train station as I surely as I did, in a metaphysical sense; that bravado was gone by the time Adam found me.

    Oh, the sounds!

    First, the sound of your voice.  A sound that previously reminded me of waterfalls that echoed in the background of a pristine tropical forest – from your first “Hi, I’m Jo” there was something pure and sure, knowing and kind, about your voice.  It made me tingle, it made me feel a heated rush of blood to the head, it made me weak, it made me feel strong, this voice.   But after that day in the train station, I no longer wanted to be reminded of it.  It haunted me.  For the longest time I didn’t delete the two voicemails you’d left on my phone – I didn’t listen to them, but I didn’t want to lose them forever, either.

    I once heard a voice that sounded like yours in a quiet restaurant, impossibly, I thought, and I looked around the room desperately but didn’t find you.

    My date that night was considered a catch by most people, and, until your voice, or the facsimile of it, cut through the funny conversation we were having, I was ready to agree with that opinion.  I’d almost forgotten I was heartbroken — he made me laugh, felt desired, and he was impossibly flirty.  I was enjoying myself for the first time in a long time.  He was still funny after that voice sliced through the air between us, and, although he was still handsome, charming, earnestly trying to impress, he soon realized that I’d somehow tuned out despite his best efforts.

    Comments

      • skydancer says

        Thanks,

        Had to get it out of my head.

        U, on the other hand, are awesome. I see you flex there, with Gentleman Jack. I mean, what can’t you do?

        You do the best stuff here, Blackbird.

        • Blackbird says

          Hey Skydancer, Nice to be in touch again. What of yours should I read tonight or whenever you get this request? Presently, just so you’ll know how to guide me to the stories you think I’d enjoy, I’m in the headspace of being on the edge of a story about to birth. It’s a tale about Anne Lister’s watch and how she behaves with, or toward it. The watch has power. It came from someplace special and came especially to her. For all those reasons and more I’d like to know Anne Lister’s watch’s origin story,

          My sincere thanks for your compliment on my Gentleman Jack series. I’ve been off writing many other types of things and have been away from even thinking about fanfiction until, as Anne Lister might say, “Good Lord.”

          My “Good Lord” moment was when the characters hooked me during episode three of Gentleman Jack.

          Okay, recommendations of what of yours I should read.

          Be well, Skydancer. The moon is out tonight.

          Blackbird

      • skydancer says

        Thanks, took a while to get it together.

        Yup, you guessed it. The train ride was and will be the piece de resistance of this whole thing, in my mind, that I found that I could not not write down.

        Hope all is well!

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