I was at work, subbing stories when my colleague slash friend cum crime reporter Gautam S. Mengle (that is how he writes his byline), sitting cubicles apart, pinged me on Gtalk.
18:45
Gautam: i need ur permission to add an extension to ur story
an ending that i thought of, if u dont mind
18: 46
me: sure...
tht wud be great
18:47
Gautam: thanks....will write it tonight....night shift hai....and send it to u
thanks, jane! :-)
(For those who don't know what we were talking about, you may need to refer to my previous post, a short story — Love at First Sight)
As promised, Gautam sent it to me later that evening. To be honest, this is not the ending I quite predicted for Love at First Sight. In fact, I will never be able to write an ending myself, because according to me, some stories are always best when left untold. However, I must say that Gautam has put some thought into working out an ending for this story. So for those who believe that every story comes to an end, this post — a reader's contribution — is for you. You are open to predicting your end too. This is what he thinks a possible end to this story could be.
As for me, mine will never be told :)
Gautam continues from where I left it..
After tucking Vera in bed and sitting near her bed till she saw the little eyes droop, Patricia returned to her room and resumed her reflections.
Going over the events of the last half an hour, she felt herself feeling glad when Vera declared the story ‘boring’ when she did and decided to go to sleep.
At an age where your only consistent companion is the loneliness, one sometimes wants to pour out one’s innermost secrets, even if their revelation can bring about undesirable results. Hence, in hindsight, Patricia thanked God that Vera didn’t press about how she, Patricia, fell in love at first sight.
She didn’t want to tell her that after falling for Marshall’s wavy hair, deep voice and charming mannerisms, after succumbing to his wooing and getting married to him with both their parents’ consent, after spending more than a year with him, she had discovered what love really was.
That wavy hair, deep voice and charming mannerisms can never replace that first flutter in the heart when the one meant truly for you lays a hand on your shoulder in the middle of a heavy downpour and escorts you home under his umbrella.
And most of all, she didn’t want to tell Vera that Phil, being Marshall’s best friend, was a frequent visitor to their house, and the repeated meetings showed not only her but both of them what love at first sight truly was.
And that after she gave birth to Vera’s father, the first one to visit her in the hospital was Phil.
He came in a couple of seconds after Marshall left the room to speak to the doctor, as if he had been waiting for him to leave the room. He stood by her bedside, and they spent a long moment just looking at each other. Then he turned and went to the window.
“I just saw him in the incubation room,” he said. “He has grey eyes.”
Patricia didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.
“Just like mine,” Phil added in little more than a whisper.
