stage lights.
I laughed softly, hardly able to grasp the fact that the man on TV now had been sitting exactly where I was sitting only a few hours ago. The image of Connor finally grinning and sticking out a pink tongue to lick the icing from his upper lip was replaced by more scenes of newsreaders falling off faulty chairs and getting guests' names wrong, and I sat back, smiling, my eyes falling to my collection of DVDs in the cabinet below the TV. Connor had seen those, and had spotted how many of the films he starred in I owned. I recalled the flattered look on his face with fondness...
My face suddenly began to fall as a thought occurred to me. Why didn't he see me as a normal, boring fan of his? Why did he find my ordinarity so interesting? Why did he take me out, persuade me to let him into my flat? I had a nagging bad feeling about this. Nothing could be this perfect...fate didn't usually bring to life a girl's wildest dreams without dire consequences. I felt like there must be some setback somewhere...was it a flaw in Connor himself? It didn't seem so. He was kinder and more handsome than I had ever imagined. Was it a flaw in our relationship? It wasn't likely...after all, we were building up a steady friendship here. But still I felt like there would be a price to pay for this heavenly experience. Nothing could be so universally right ...it just wasn't natural. What was the drawback to this dream-like situation? What did the small print on the genie's magic lamp say?
I sighed, rubbing my temples, then tried to shake myself out of my negative train of thought. Honestly, why was I being so pessimistic? I was being repaid for my lifetime of dullness, and all I could do was look for flaws? I was crazy...
* * *
Two days later, I received a phone call.
' Hi, Lillian, it's Connor .'
'Oh...hi!' I smiled breathlessly, sitting myself down on the arm of the sofa. 'How are you?'
' I'm fine ,' he replied. ' Look, er...I'm leaving for New York, tomorrow. We might not get a chance to talk for quite a while, so...I was wondering if you'd like to come to mine for a chat before I go? '
My heart sank abruptly. He was...leaving? Already?
'You're going already?' I asked, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.
I heard him sigh. ' Aye ,' he said. ' There's a film I'm going to be working on, and I'll need to get back. '
'Oh...' I said. 'Well, OK then...I'd love to come to yours and have a chat.'
' That alright? Great...I'll come by and pick you up ,' he told me.
Later, when we had arranged the details, I stood by the window, saddened by the knowledge that Connor was going to be leaving all the way back to America. He had said himself that we wouldn't be able to talk much...presumably because of the time difference and his busy schedule. Oh, dear...
My life without him again would be so...unimagineably boring . Sure, I'd have my friendship with him to boast about, but...he wouldn't be here.
I was beginning to miss him already...
I turned away from the window, and went off to my bedroom. All the more reason to make our last meeting an interesting one. I decided to do a little good old-fashioned background research, to see what was going on in Connor's life at the moment so that I would know what to talk about when we met. This time I would be the one leading the conversations, I decided.
I fired up my old computer - which was often as temperamental as the radiators - and waited five minutes for it to slowly whirr erratically to life. Once it had started up, I waited a few minutes more for the dial-up connection to begin, and then opened my internet browser when it was done.
I went straight onto trusty old Wikipedia, and within a short while I found the lengthy page on Connor MacGowan himself. Although I had already read it countless times before, it was often updated, so there were sometimes new things to learn about him. I got myself
I laughed softly, hardly able to grasp the fact that the man on TV now had been sitting exactly where I was sitting only a few hours ago. The image of Connor finally grinning and sticking out a pink tongue to lick the icing from his upper lip was replaced by more scenes of newsreaders falling off faulty chairs and getting guests' names wrong, and I sat back, smiling, my eyes falling to my collection of DVDs in the cabinet below the TV. Connor had seen those, and had spotted how many of the films he starred in I owned. I recalled the flattered look on his face with fondness...
My face suddenly began to fall as a thought occurred to me. Why didn't he see me as a normal, boring fan of his? Why did he find my ordinarity so interesting? Why did he take me out, persuade me to let him into my flat? I had a nagging bad feeling about this. Nothing could be this perfect...fate didn't usually bring to life a girl's wildest dreams without dire consequences. I felt like there must be some setback somewhere...was it a flaw in Connor himself? It didn't seem so. He was kinder and more handsome than I had ever imagined. Was it a flaw in our relationship? It wasn't likely...after all, we were building up a steady friendship here. But still I felt like there would be a price to pay for this heavenly experience. Nothing could be so universally right ...it just wasn't natural. What was the drawback to this dream-like situation? What did the small print on the genie's magic lamp say?
I sighed, rubbing my temples, then tried to shake myself out of my negative train of thought. Honestly, why was I being so pessimistic? I was being repaid for my lifetime of dullness, and all I could do was look for flaws? I was crazy...
* * *
Two days later, I received a phone call.
' Hi, Lillian, it's Connor .'
'Oh...hi!' I smiled breathlessly, sitting myself down on the arm of the sofa. 'How are you?'
' I'm fine ,' he replied. ' Look, er...I'm leaving for New York, tomorrow. We might not get a chance to talk for quite a while, so...I was wondering if you'd like to come to mine for a chat before I go? '
My heart sank abruptly. He was...leaving? Already?
'You're going already?' I asked, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.
I heard him sigh. ' Aye ,' he said. ' There's a film I'm going to be working on, and I'll need to get back. '
'Oh...' I said. 'Well, OK then...I'd love to come to yours and have a chat.'
' That alright? Great...I'll come by and pick you up ,' he told me.
Later, when we had arranged the details, I stood by the window, saddened by the knowledge that Connor was going to be leaving all the way back to America. He had said himself that we wouldn't be able to talk much...presumably because of the time difference and his busy schedule. Oh, dear...
My life without him again would be so...unimagineably boring . Sure, I'd have my friendship with him to boast about, but...he wouldn't be here.
I was beginning to miss him already...
I turned away from the window, and went off to my bedroom. All the more reason to make our last meeting an interesting one. I decided to do a little good old-fashioned background research, to see what was going on in Connor's life at the moment so that I would know what to talk about when we met. This time I would be the one leading the conversations, I decided.
I fired up my old computer - which was often as temperamental as the radiators - and waited five minutes for it to slowly whirr erratically to life. Once it had started up, I waited a few minutes more for the dial-up connection to begin, and then opened my internet browser when it was done.
I went straight onto trusty old Wikipedia, and within a short while I found the lengthy page on Connor MacGowan himself. Although I had already read it countless times before, it was often updated, so there were sometimes new things to learn about him. I got myself
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