Temporary Secretary

Twenty-Four

I climbed quietly out of the bed in the guest room, leaving Paul sleeping behind me. I couldn't sleep at all after the strange feeling I had gotten earlier in the night. It was now well past two in the morning and I thought that maybe a glass of water would do me some good. I tiptoed down the stairs, trying to make a minimal amount of noise. I made my way through the expanse of hallways, finally coming upon the kitchen.

"Couldn't sleep, love?" 

I jumped at his voice, placing my hand on my chest and letting out a sigh.

"No, not really."

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"A glass of water, if you don't mind."

George went to one of the cabinets, grabbing a glass and filling it under the sink.

"I'm guessing you couldn't sleep either?" I asked him.

He handed me the glass and I leaned against the counter across from him.

"Too much on my mind, that's all." He responded.

I drank my water, keeping my eyes on him. His eyes were shifting about nervously and his hands were stuffed in his pajama bottoms.

"Well, I best be getting back to bed. Don't want to leave Paul alone for too long."

I placed my glass on the counter, knowing George would get it after I left.

"Why?"

His question stopped me in the doorway.

"Why what, George?"

"Why are you with Paul?"

"I love him."

"Do you really, Amethyst?"

I couldn't move. Did I really love Paul? Why was I in this relationship? Sure, my father had wondered the same things, but for some reason the way George put it made me wonder even more.

"How old are you, Amethyst?"

"I'll be twenty-one soon."

George hung his head for a moment, but soon his eyes met mine. I thought I had never been more sure of anything than my love for Paul, but something in the way George was approaching this made my thoughts shake.

"You could have so much more, Amethyst."

"What do you mean?"

"Amethyst, don't you see? Paul is just looking for that sense of adventure, feeling like he is young again. You could have your own life. A husband, children, a family of your own. You don't have to go along in his world forever, you know?"

"George, I..."

I didn't know what to say, yet I saw his point. I was living in Paul's world, not mine. His children weren't mine and never would be. All the memories came flooding back to me from the very first moment I stepped foot on Paul's front porch. Was his love real?

"Do you think he really loves me, George?"

George didn't answer for a while.

"I think he thinks that he loves you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He loves you, but at the same time, it is all for his gratification."

Tears started to pour down my face, yet I remained silent.

George made his way over to me, enveloping me in his gentle arms.

"I'm sorry, love."

"It's okay, George. I guess I needed to hear it sometime. Are you being completely honest?"

He pulled away from the hug, leaving his hands resting on my shoulders.

"I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't think it was the truth."

"Thank you, George."

"You're welcome, love. Now go get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

George placed a kiss on my forehead and made his way out of the kitchen. I rested my hands on the counter, baring my weight on them. Yes, I loved Paul. He never failed to make me smile or bring me happiness, but I felt this emptiness inside me. He kept saying he wanted to get to know me, every part of me, but could he tell me what I wanted to be when I was little? What my favorite things to do were? He couldn't. Was he only in it for the sex? He couldn't be, at least I hoped not. If he was, he should have been an actor over a musician because his performance has been brilliant.

It was late, I was jumping to conclusions, and I needed to think this through before I did anything drastic.