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--- Chapter 1 ---

Paige had always been told she was nothing special. Her mother had told herwhen she deemed her old enough to stomach the truth at the tender age of five,her father hadn’t been around long enough to tell her, and her husband wassweet enough to remind her of the fact almost every day of her married life.Although Paige knew that, by consensus, she should agree, she couldn’t help butthink, with childlike defiance, that there was slightly more to her than that.Glancing swiftly at her reflection one morning, a rather brazen notion forsomeone as abashed as she, she could not help but evaluate what she saw therefor a second, and was surprised that not every part of the slight woman’s facestaring back at her was immediately processed as a negative image by her brain.She had almost translucent skin that stretched too tightly over her skull, acrooked smile hiding an almost-perfect set of teeth, and large, pudding-browneyes that, unbeknown to her, had the ability to melt the heart of anyone whocould have bothered to stare into them. This melange of features were inconstant partial cover from a wild mane of thick russet coloured hair, spillingfrom her crown and falling about her shoulders in a careless manner; indeed, theonly thing about Paige’s garden that wasn’t perfectly pruned, although not forlack of trying. She attempted this near impossible feat now, bravely grabbing awire brush and rolling up the sleeves of her newly ironed shirt, frowning slightlyin her effort, but all to no avail. Giving up, she applied a thin layer of mascara,thought about blush but decided against it, and then, returning to her bedroom,selected her favourite blazer, a nondescript navy blue number very popularamongst those of us who wish to remain firmly an unidentified member of thecrowd, and prepared to leave the house.She went silently past her husband’s bedroom, careful not to step on any non-existent loud floorboards or knock any imaginary paintings off the bare walls, noteven to breathe too loudly. She knew that visions of her husband actually wakingup, even if she were to scream at the top of her lungs, which she often wishedshe had the courage to do, were strictly imaginary, however she still took theprecautions, because that was the kind of woman Paige Jones was; wary,guarded, and cautious.As she drove slowly to work, making sure to check her rear view mirror twicebefore she backed out of her drive, she thought absent-mindedly about howselfish she was being recently. Ever since confiding in Ellen, she had come to thisrealisation. She thought of Ellen, a woman so breathtakingly beautiful andunconditionally kind that she was almost certain she couldn’t really exist, and of her abusive husband who was slowly mangling her; her body was constantlybeing shattered and broken, and, as for her heart, Paige knew that it had beenlost a long time ago. It was these admissions that juxtaposed painfully with herown pathetic accusations that her husband didn’t care for her, although Ellennever seemed to see it this way, listening with unwavering diligence to hercarefully constructed complaints. They had become more than work colleaguesover the years, and Paige was proud and slightly surprised to be able to call her areal friend.But Paige knew as she pulled into the company car park that she

was

beingselfish in thinking that she deserved more - after all, her husband hadn’t done1

anything

wrong

. He didn’t shout at her, ridicule her, insult her, or beat her, butthis in itself was the problem; he did nothing. She saw herself as the foundationsof their expensive detached house; she provided him with as much support asshe could manage, she was steady and unwavering ... and yet he failedspectacularly to notice.“Morning Jeffrey”, she said with as much gusto as she could manage as shepassed him on the way to the lift, imagining herself stapling a nonchalant smileto her lips as the words escaped them.He ignored her.She smiled to herself as she pressed the button for the third floor and thedoors slid shut, just as wordless as her colleague. She didn’t need to reassureherself that she wasn’t unpopular at work, as she knew that this was true – shewasn’t unpopular, rather, she was non-existent, and this was something shecould deal with.As she flicked her computer on and took her seat, staring at the bare walls of her small cubicle, she hummed a tuneless number as she waited for it to bootup. And then it happened.A scream wriggled snake like along the coffee-stained carpet, underneath thewall of her cubicle, up the arm of her threadbare chair, and exploded in her ear.She jumped to her feet, looking wildly around for a moment, and then,remembering herself, took the time to smooth down her skirt and composeherself. She knew that the mystery of the Monday Morning Scream, she smiledinwardly at her creativity in thinking of this title, would soon resolve itself.Maybe, she thought as she mindlessly scanned her empty email inbox, it wasSusan, the floozy blonde and the newest addition to the team, the most likelyculprit for dropping a mug or twisting her ankle in her ridiculous six inch workheels. Equally, it could have been that guy from marketing that she knew –But Paige didn’t have time to finish this latest speculation, as an unexpectedvisitor was suddenly rushing frantically into her small cubicle, disturbing a pile of perfectly filed and labelled documents that had taken Paige almost a week toorganise. But before she had time to lament its dissolution, a flurry of words,almost slurred in their haste to escape the visitor’s mouth, caught her off guard.“Paige ... Ellen ... dead. She’s dead.”“What the...?” The words escaped her mouth before she had time to thinkthem through, and she caught herself before the expletive she wanted to screamout had a chance to be granted a voice. She recognised the woman, thinking hername to be Jane, and knew that however unsure she was about her name, she

was

sure that this was the first time she had ever spoken to her. This thought crossed her brain, but was immediately exiled for the morepressing matter of Ellen; she knew that it needed all of its processing powerfocussed on this one. Paige choked, trying unsuccessfully to make sense of thisnews, but all she managed was to link the words Ellen and dead together, andthen her grey matter short circuited. She wasn’t surprised. She had never beenvery good at the whole deep thinking malarkey. The woman, growing bored of Paige’s lack of visible reaction, sighed audibly,muttered something that sounded like “unfeeling cow”, and then she was off, off to find someone who would react to the news correctly, she supposed. Paige rose2

in a daze, focussed her eyes on her retreating figure, and forced her led-linedlegs to spring to motion and follow her. The tornado woman rushed through the office, leaving her trail of destruction,and Paige followed this trail silently with her wide eyes; a couple of men talkingin low voice, mirroring each other’s faces of shock, several women crying, otherssimply staring in disbelief, mouths open, and floozy Susan, of course having tobe the most noticeable even under such circumstances, gesturing to theheavens, taking breaks to run her fingers through her long tresses and pout herlips heavily coated with ruby red gloss. Paige couldn’t help noticing, with asickening realisation, that she had a small audience of men watching her withawe in their eyes, oblivious the current situation.Her boss, a stout man in his early forties, was gesturing with windmill arms,assumedly signalling to his workers to gather, and Paige found herself gravitatingtoward him, along with many of her colleagues. In his deep voice of pure marble,he started to calmly reassure everyone that there was nothing to worry about.Paige smiled cynically to herself.“I don’t want anyone to worry. I can’t stress that enough. I don’t wish to alarmanyone, but I feel that I must tell the truth.” He took a moment to shut his eyesand tilt his head to the skies for dramatic effect.“What an idiot” Paige thought to herself, but persevered with his mock-selflessness in order to hear the facts.“I am afraid” he continued, “that I have some terrible news. It seems that lastnight, Ellen Greene was admitted to the hospital after a very nasty fall downseveral flights of stairs. The doctors weren’t hopeful, but after she survived thenight, they thought it was possible for her to recover. However, at 6.15 thismorning, she was found dead.”A chorus of gasps escaped from the collected audience.“I can tell you that she did not suffer. It appears that after all the painmedication she was issued the night before that she would not have feltanything. I know that our prayers will be with her husband and family, and Isuggest that we all take a moment to remember such a great member of theteam.”Several people bowed their heads in consent, some, who knew her better,wiping away silent tears, and the office floor fell silent, something Paige hadnever seen, or rather heard, before. She couldn’t bear this, couldn’t stomach thesudden crushing realisation that hit her like a freight train and she turned, barelyseeing, unable to process the stagnated images in front of her, and fled theroom. The lift provided Paige with some long overdue closure, and she slid down thepolished wall after pressing the ground floor button several times, head in herhands, and then scolded herself for being so predictably dramatic. She stood upagain, stifling a sob as the doors slid open again, and fled through the large glassdoors to the building, for the first time in her life not knowing where she wasgoing, what she was doing. She was behaving erratically, she knew, but shecouldn’t stop herself. Ellen had been her rock; she had always thought that if Ellen could cope then so could she, and now her rock had finally given in to theconstant taunting of the unstoppable, unfeeling wind, and had crumbled, leaving3

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Paige

A story of a complex love triangle with an unexected twist.

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Info and Rating

Category:	Creative Writing
Rating:
Upload Date:	02/05/2009
Copyright:	Attribution Non-commercial
Tags:	romance love unrequited romance love unrequited (fewer)