The Ending is a simple, classic love story. It casts two damaged misfits together: Gregory, an emotionally tortured older man, and Karan, a wounded, confused young woman. The story carries them through the four seasons of their great love--until it is clear that this great love must be broken. They endeavor to make the ending as beautiful as the beginning. Do they succeed? The reader must decide.
Riley Connarroe lives in Florida, USA and Bangkok, Thailand. He is a former journalist and businessman. He now devotes himself to artistic pursuits. He is a versatile painter, musician, playwright, and actor. His business books include The Decision-Makers. His classic guide to successful living, Success Simplified, is now published in ten languages and available through 1st Books Library.
There is a village green in the town where I live. It has trees and gravel paths and a couple of statues, that's all. We had agreed to meet there one last time, on neutral ground, to say goodbye.
It was late afternoon, cool and gusty. A few remnant rays of the sun flashed through the branches to brighten the autumn leaves.
We met in the middle of the green, surrounded by trees, where two paths met. She came to me wearing a baggy jacket and no hat. She was exactly on time, as always.
I reached out for her and she came into my arms. She held me tightly and pressed her face against mine. We stood motionless, neither of us speaking, holding each other. Then I felt her body quiver and I knew she was sobbing. I felt her tears running through my beard. My own eyes welled up and the tears rolled down my face, mixing with hers.
Finally she was able to speak.
"We'll always be together, old man."
"Yes, we'll always be together, Miss Pert."
"We'll be together every time I see a boat with white sails billowing. I'll be with you then on the Varsovianna."
"We'll be together every time I see a girl dancing with a man and folding her body into his," I said. "I'll feel you dancing with me."
"We'll be together whenever a lover touches me. It will always be you I am with."
We continued to hold each other, our bodies rocking in slow motion, and turning, trying to get even closer, almost dancing, but not dancing because there was no music in us now and we were feeling too much sorrow in our hearts to dance.
"We'll be together every Christmas, my love. I'll always have daisies in my house and people will ask me why, but I won't tell them."
"We'll be together every time I pick flowers. I will always pick them for you, and think up a love note to give you with them."
"We'll be together every time it rains."
"We'll be together every time I see a carved bird. I will see your strong hand holding a piece of wood and I will smell the wood, and I will hear the sound of your knife shaping it into something beautiful. Whenever you carve, old man, I will be looking over your shoulder."
We'll be together whenever there are people around you, well wishers. When you marry, I'll be sitting proudly on your side of the church, even though you won't see me."
She lifted her face away from me now and looked up into my eyes. Her eyes were swollen, her face streaked and her mouth was distorted and quivering from crying, but now she was also trying to laugh.
"We'll be together every time I hear a bad joke, or hear someone singing happily, but off key."
"We'll be together --" I choked, and had to bite my lip hard to keep from sobbing. "We'll be together whenever the leaves fall from the trees in the autumn, the way they are falling around us now." I turned her around in a circle
slowly, so that she could see how the wind was blowing the crimson leaves, and so that she would remember it.
"I've got to go," she said.
"I know," I said, but I did not release her from my arms. She reached up and cupped her hands over my face, and gently caressed my beard.
"One last thing," she said. "This is my beard. You grew it to make yourself beautiful for me. Please keep it. It's mine. I'm not giving you permission to shave it off."
"I'll keep it."
"Always?"
I looked deep into her eyes, knowing it would be the last time ever. I nodded. "Okay," I said.
"I've got to go," she said.
Still holding her eyes on mine, she reached back and loosened my arms from her body and brought my hands around in front of her. She pressed my hands between hers. We looked at each other, motionless, expressionless now, neither of us even breathing.
Then she closed her eyes hard, sucked in a deep breath, held it, released my hands, turned and slowly walked away, her head down, her shoulders hunched. She was probably silently sobbing.
I stood there, watching her. I held my head up, stunned, knowing that the pain would come later.
The dried leaves were swirling around her feet as she walked down the path. She kicked at some leaves and turned, walking away backwards for a few steps as she looked at me, but she did not wave and neither did I. Her hands were plunged deep into her jacket pockets. Then she turned away again and continued walking, slowly.
Just as she entered the shadows in the distance, I could not be sure but I thought I saw a figure step from behind a tree and join her on the path. It seemed like a lithe young man, tall and with golden hair, and he seemed to put his arm around her just before they turned a corner into the shadows, and disappeared.
