Starcrossed by Suzanne Carroll

ever draw him?” Sophie asked suddenly.  “With his guitar?”
    Georgia frowned as she stared down at the drain.  “No, I didn’t,” she said, wistfully.
    “Why not?”
    “Never got round to it, I guess.  Never found that perfect moment to do it.  There was always something else happening.”  She set the empty cup on the counter.  "One day," she said.
     
    “You always told us you met at the beach.”  Sophie seemed puzzled now.  “Why didn’t you ever tell us the rest of it?”
    “You never asked.”
    Sophie gave her mother an incredulous look.  “Are you serious?  I had to ask if you were star crossed lovers?  I had to ask if my father was a romantic hero who found you through a tacky TV talent show?”
    “Star-crossed lovers?  I suppose we were, a bit.”
    “A bit?  You’re positively Shakespearean!”  Sophie shook her head and gathered up her laptop.   She kissed her mother on the cheek.  “I’m going upstairs and start writing.  This is going to be brilliant!”
    “Glad I could help,” Georgia said, but Sophie had already gone.
    Smiling, Georgia rinsed the cups and stacked them in the dishwasher.  It had been such a long time since she’d thought of those early days.  They’d been so young. It almost seemed like a story about other people.  And though she and Tom were very happy, and still in love, they’d slipped into the well-worn routine of every day living.  As time passed, some of their dreams had had to give way to reality.
    Tom never performed with the London Symphony.  He hadn’t played his own music at the Royal Albert Hall.  His focus had changed; marriage and family, and instead, he’d fallen into teaching, working his way up to be head of his department at Barkley.   His role as Music Master brought job security, and the satisfaction of sharing his love of music with his students, but Georgia knew that Tom often spent more time dealing with management and administration issues than in the classroom.   Though he sometimes found time to play for himself, or Georgia, he hadn’t composed for a long time.
    She straightened the dishcloth on the sink and cleared a couple of used bowls from the large wooden kitchen table.  Max and Alec had obviously had breakfast cereal for an afternoon snack and, as usual, had apparently forgotten what to do with the bowls when they’d finished.  She shook her head as she rinsed them, too.
    She watched the water swirl before it disappeared down the drain, and it reminded her of one of the pieces she’d seen at the gallery the day before.  A vivid blue spiral that subtly became darker as it flowed towards the centre.  It had felt to Georgia like the painting was pulling her in, and she’d admired, and appreciated, the clever use of a single colour.  She thought, maybe one day, she’d like to try something similar, when she got the time.
    Georgia had had one small exhibition while at Langdon, in a church hall with some other students.  She’d sold two paintings there, but she’d eventually left the world of art for architecture when she realised oil and canvas wouldn’t pay the bills.  But two of her paintings were out there and it always brought a smile to her face when she remembered that, and imagined them on someone’s wall.
    Georgia stacked the bowls in the dishwasher and decided to go and see what her sons were up to.  Her question was answered when the sound of electric guitars blared through the ceiling.  She winced.  “Too loud,” she muttered, though she was glad they were off the video games.
    As she headed for the stairs, she heard Tom’s key in the lock.  He walked through he door, shirt collar unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck. His eyes were tired, but they lit up at the sight of Georgia standing at the foot of the stairs.  “Hi.” 
    He was still a good looking man.  There were some extra lines on his face that didn’t used to be there, and his hair was starting to grey at the temples,