Part III

AFTER THE STORM

by

Joan Stephens

Inserting the key, Michael hoped that Catherine had not locked all the locks on her door.  He heaved a sigh of relief as the door opened easily.  The apartment was dark; she must be out for the evening. The college had provided an apartment for him, and he had moved in today, but there was one small suitcase that he had left behind.  Also, he had forgotten to leave the key to her apartment. He was glad that she wasn't home, as he still felt uneasy and guilty around her.  She had forgiven him.  Of course, she would; she was that kind of a woman: kind, loving, and understanding.  She had even apologized for leading him on, as if it were her fault that he had mistaken that kindness and loving concern for a deeper kind of love.  Castigating himself once again, he thought, ''So what had he done?'' He had responded to her kindness and loving concern with a deep infatuation that had given him the courage to kiss her.  Of course, it had happened after the second rejection by his father, who he had run into at the college social, but it was no excuse for what he did.  Still the man's refusal to accept him as his son had cut him deeply, leaving him wounded once again by someone he barely knew.  It left him in a confused and muddled state of mixed-up emotions. He had dashed out into the hallway, unable to be in the same room with such a callous person, and she had followed him.  He had been crying, and she comforted him as any friend would.  And then he had the unmitigated gall to kiss the woman that his mentor and best friend loved.

As he reached up to turn on the light, he glimpsed a movement on the balcony.  Catherine and Vincent were standing close together by the balustrade.  He jerked his hand back.  He didn't want either of them to know he was there, especially Vincent, as he felt like an awkward and gauche teenager when he was with him now.  But when Vincent had found him on the bridge in the Whispering Gallery, he had forgiven him, too.  He had even tried to make him feel better by saying, "How could anyone not love her?" And then he had hugged him as he had been wont to do when he was a child.  But he wasn't a child anymore, and he knew that in some corner of his heart he would love Catherine forever, purely and chastely like a chivalrous knight.  It was something that he would have to learn to live with if he wanted the two lovers in his life. 

Maybe he should go and say hello to them; by now, he was sure that Vincent knew he was there.  As he moved to take a step forward, he saw Vincent's arm reach around Catherine's back and gently urge her to lean against his side.  It was an act of possession telling Michael that she was his.  Vincent was aware that he stood in the living room watching them.  He stopped and waited.  He had to wait. . .to see what happened next, to see if he had caused any more heartache for his two friends.  Then Catherine laid her head against Vincent's shoulder as if she had come home, at last.  Ah, they had come to some kind of understanding; he had not ruined everything for them. 

He decided that this was not the right time to intrude on them.  Quietly, he laid the key on the coffee table, knowing that Catherine would find it and assume that he had been there that night, picked up his suitcase which sat beside the other end of the sofa, and left the apartment and the balcony to the couple.  Carefully, making as little noise as possible, he closed the door, making sure that it was locked.  They didn't need any more unwanted intrusions this night.  Whistling tunelessly under his breath, he strolled down the hallway to the elevator with more serenity than he had had since the unfortunate incident with Catherine.  He smiled as the elevator doors closed.  One of these days he would find a love like Vincent had found.  Of that he was more than certain; he was absolutely positive.

~ Fini ~