Some Dreams Are Made Of This (2)

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My palms rested against the cool leather of the book on the table. My eyes were pinned to the man who sat in front of me. Twenty years had passed since I'd last seen him but he had hardly aged at all. His eyes were still as bright and full of life as ever. His hands had smoothed out, no longer were they riddled with hard calluses and bleeding cuticles. They were as soft and welcoming as his smile. "It's so good to see you." Those were the first words he spoke to me as he pulled my chair out and bid me to sit. He didn't speak for long moments after that, getting himself seated and then just staring at me. I wasn't sure what to say myself but the silence was comforting. He had handed me the album and asked me to look through it. The first half was filled with the letters I had written him. The grand schemes we had of running away and to a place that wouldn't shun us for our love. The second half of the album was a harder pill to swallow. Two handsome faces stared up at me, with the same eyes as their fathers, the same grin. My heart clutched within my chest at these pictures, confirmation of something I had known all along, he had moved on. He saw the look on my face as I stared at his sons, willing myself not to cry. He took my hands from the page and enveloped them in his own. "I never once loved that woman as much as I loved you. She knew that too. I told her from the beginning that my heart could never be hers. Our life together was of mutual benefit. She needed a man to protect her and to care for her. I needed a woman to keep me fed and in good clothes." I didn't speak for long moments after he finished. I didn't want to allow my heart to feel hope. I wouldn't let myself be crushed by it. I didn't want to think of the intimacy they obviously shared. That closeness that had been denied to me all those years ago. Jealousy sliced through my veins. "What do they do for a living?" Now honestly, I am not quite sure if I will be able to write a third part. This had to be written with a fair amount of creative license, taking slightly away from the dream itself. Forgive my poor punctuation. This is a follow up to a piece I wrote earlier.