Post by dianahawthorne on Jan 30, 2009 0:55:06 GMT -5
Julius and Epifania
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Based on George Bernard Shaw's play "The Millionairess". Sequel to my story "The Solicitor and the Millionairess.
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One day, three years after she had married the Egyptian doctor – whose name turned out to be Salah Hassan – Epifania came to visit him at his office. Gone were the silver fox-furs of three years ago, gone was her sense of the dramatic. She was so subdued now. Her clothes had changed from the flashy, colourful dresses of the past, the diamond jewellery that had once adorned her slender fingers was gone; she now wore such tame outfits. Today she was wearing a conservative navy blue dress. The only jewellery she had on was a pair of small, simple pearl earrings and her plain gold wedding band.
“Hello, Mrs. Hassan,” Julius said. “Won’t you have a seat?” he asked. She smiled sadly at him and took a seat. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I’d like for you to arrange a divorce,” Epifania said.
“A divorce?” he asked. “Why?”
“He doesn’t love me,” Epifania said sadly. “He only loves science. And though I knew this when I married him, I thought that I could make him love me too. But he doesn’t.”
“What does the doctor say about this?” Julius asked.
“He doesn’t care,” Epifania said. “I’ve tried so hard to make him love me, but he doesn’t.” Tears came to her eyes, and she pulled a handkerchief out of her purse, dabbing at her eyes.
“Will he agree to the divorce?” Julius asked her. He couldn’t allow himself to get his hopes up for a relationship with Epifania, especially while she was still married. But if her husband consented to the divorce...
“I hope so,” Epifania said. “Please start the paperwork, Mr. Sagamore.”
He nodded and began drawing up the paperwork. She sat there patiently – there was once a time where she would have demanded for him to have the paperwork finished immediately. Not anymore. Now it was as if her exuberance for life had been tapped out – she did not even care about money anymore, though her husband had made her a fortune.
In an effort to win her husband’s affection, her behaviour had become slowly subdued over the three years she had been married to the Egyptian doctor. She had done away with her brightly-coloured silks and luxurious furs, instead favouring plain clothes in sombre colours. She, too, had set aside her jewellery, beginning to wear simple earrings, no necklaces, and only her wedding ring, which was a plain gold band.
“All right, Mrs. Hassan,” Julius said. “The paperwork is complete.”
“Will you please ring my husband?” she asked. “I would like to settle this once and for all.” Julius nodded and picked up the telephone, speaking into it briefly. He hung up the telephone.
“He’ll be here shortly,” Julius said. Epifania nodded.
“Thank you, Mr. Sagamore,” Epifania said. She waited patiently for her husband to arrive, which he did soon after.
“What’s this all about, Epifania?” he asked.
“I want a divorce, Salah,” she said.
“But why?” he asked.
“You don’t love me,” she replied. “I’ve tried for three years to make you love me, but it’s been hopeless. You never loved me, did you?” she asked him sadly.
“No,” he said bluntly. Though she had been prepared for that answer, she was still stunned that he did not soften his response. She let a single tear slip down her cheek.
“Then it won’t matter to you if we get divorced or not,” she told him. “Sign the papers and then you can get back to what you love – your first bride – science.”
“All right,” he agreed. Julius handed him the papers and Salah signed them. He turned to Epifania. “Goodbye,” he said, and Epifania nodded.
“Goodbye, Salah,” she whispered, and he left Julius’s office.
Epifania sat there, beginning to sob, as the door closed behind her second husband.
Julius had never seen her cry like this before – it was so disconcerting. He stood up and walked out from behind his desk, kneeling next to her. He handed her a handkerchief and she took it, dabbing at her tears. Her tears continued to stream down her face, and she flung herself into his arms. He held her tightly as they sat on the floor, stroking her hair, as she cried.
“Why do I always fail?” she asked him, sobbing. “I fail in everything but making money.”
“That’s not true,” Julius said, continuing to stroke her hair. She pulled back from him.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “Look at me – two husbands within the past ten years. I am thirty one years old and I’m a failure. No man will ever love me.”
He took a deep breath before responding, “I love you.”
“What?” she asked.
“Never mind,” he said.
“Julius,” she whispered, and he looked at her in shock. She had never called him by his first name before. “Did you say that you loved me?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“Oh, Julius,” she breathed, looking up at him. She leaned forward to kiss him.
It was everything that he had dreamed of. Her lips were soft, moving sensuously against his. She deepened the kiss, her tongue dancing with his, as she slipped further into his lap.
They finally broke the kiss and Julius rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you, Epifania,” he whispered.
“Do you?” she asked. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“I do love you, Epifania,” he said. “I’ve loved you from the moment you whirled into my office and asked if I was the worthless nephew of my late uncle.”
She smiled a bit at that. “And I wanted to kill myself.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t,” he said seriously, stroking her cheek.
“As am I,” she replied, snuggling into his embrace. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“Epifania,” he began tentatively. “Do you think that you could ever love me too?”
She smiled at him. “I do,” she whispered softly, leaning forward to kiss him again. This time he took greater initiative, wrapping his arms around her, deepening the kiss. She moaned as his conservative facade disappeared, revealing the man who was passionately in love with her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her all the more fiercely as she wrapped her arms around him. Once more they broke out of the kiss for air.
“Marry me, Epifania,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “Why should I risk my heart for the third time?”
“You won’t have to pay for me to be your solicitor,” he said, and she smiled.
“All right,” she agreed. “They do say the third time’s the charm.” She smiled at him, and he returned her smile, kissing her.
“I love you, Epifania,” he said.
“I love you, Julius,” she replied. “And I retract my statement – you’re not worthless at all.”
He began to laugh, and she joined in. Obviously his sense of humour was rubbing off on her. She leaned forward and kissed him again, laughing against his lips. He laughed as well, holding her close to him.
“I’ll love you forever, Epifania,” he said.
“I’m glad,” she replied. “I love you, too.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Based on George Bernard Shaw's play "The Millionairess". Sequel to my story "The Solicitor and the Millionairess.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One day, three years after she had married the Egyptian doctor – whose name turned out to be Salah Hassan – Epifania came to visit him at his office. Gone were the silver fox-furs of three years ago, gone was her sense of the dramatic. She was so subdued now. Her clothes had changed from the flashy, colourful dresses of the past, the diamond jewellery that had once adorned her slender fingers was gone; she now wore such tame outfits. Today she was wearing a conservative navy blue dress. The only jewellery she had on was a pair of small, simple pearl earrings and her plain gold wedding band.
“Hello, Mrs. Hassan,” Julius said. “Won’t you have a seat?” he asked. She smiled sadly at him and took a seat. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I’d like for you to arrange a divorce,” Epifania said.
“A divorce?” he asked. “Why?”
“He doesn’t love me,” Epifania said sadly. “He only loves science. And though I knew this when I married him, I thought that I could make him love me too. But he doesn’t.”
“What does the doctor say about this?” Julius asked.
“He doesn’t care,” Epifania said. “I’ve tried so hard to make him love me, but he doesn’t.” Tears came to her eyes, and she pulled a handkerchief out of her purse, dabbing at her eyes.
“Will he agree to the divorce?” Julius asked her. He couldn’t allow himself to get his hopes up for a relationship with Epifania, especially while she was still married. But if her husband consented to the divorce...
“I hope so,” Epifania said. “Please start the paperwork, Mr. Sagamore.”
He nodded and began drawing up the paperwork. She sat there patiently – there was once a time where she would have demanded for him to have the paperwork finished immediately. Not anymore. Now it was as if her exuberance for life had been tapped out – she did not even care about money anymore, though her husband had made her a fortune.
In an effort to win her husband’s affection, her behaviour had become slowly subdued over the three years she had been married to the Egyptian doctor. She had done away with her brightly-coloured silks and luxurious furs, instead favouring plain clothes in sombre colours. She, too, had set aside her jewellery, beginning to wear simple earrings, no necklaces, and only her wedding ring, which was a plain gold band.
“All right, Mrs. Hassan,” Julius said. “The paperwork is complete.”
“Will you please ring my husband?” she asked. “I would like to settle this once and for all.” Julius nodded and picked up the telephone, speaking into it briefly. He hung up the telephone.
“He’ll be here shortly,” Julius said. Epifania nodded.
“Thank you, Mr. Sagamore,” Epifania said. She waited patiently for her husband to arrive, which he did soon after.
“What’s this all about, Epifania?” he asked.
“I want a divorce, Salah,” she said.
“But why?” he asked.
“You don’t love me,” she replied. “I’ve tried for three years to make you love me, but it’s been hopeless. You never loved me, did you?” she asked him sadly.
“No,” he said bluntly. Though she had been prepared for that answer, she was still stunned that he did not soften his response. She let a single tear slip down her cheek.
“Then it won’t matter to you if we get divorced or not,” she told him. “Sign the papers and then you can get back to what you love – your first bride – science.”
“All right,” he agreed. Julius handed him the papers and Salah signed them. He turned to Epifania. “Goodbye,” he said, and Epifania nodded.
“Goodbye, Salah,” she whispered, and he left Julius’s office.
Epifania sat there, beginning to sob, as the door closed behind her second husband.
Julius had never seen her cry like this before – it was so disconcerting. He stood up and walked out from behind his desk, kneeling next to her. He handed her a handkerchief and she took it, dabbing at her tears. Her tears continued to stream down her face, and she flung herself into his arms. He held her tightly as they sat on the floor, stroking her hair, as she cried.
“Why do I always fail?” she asked him, sobbing. “I fail in everything but making money.”
“That’s not true,” Julius said, continuing to stroke her hair. She pulled back from him.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “Look at me – two husbands within the past ten years. I am thirty one years old and I’m a failure. No man will ever love me.”
He took a deep breath before responding, “I love you.”
“What?” she asked.
“Never mind,” he said.
“Julius,” she whispered, and he looked at her in shock. She had never called him by his first name before. “Did you say that you loved me?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“Oh, Julius,” she breathed, looking up at him. She leaned forward to kiss him.
It was everything that he had dreamed of. Her lips were soft, moving sensuously against his. She deepened the kiss, her tongue dancing with his, as she slipped further into his lap.
They finally broke the kiss and Julius rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you, Epifania,” he whispered.
“Do you?” she asked. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“I do love you, Epifania,” he said. “I’ve loved you from the moment you whirled into my office and asked if I was the worthless nephew of my late uncle.”
She smiled a bit at that. “And I wanted to kill myself.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t,” he said seriously, stroking her cheek.
“As am I,” she replied, snuggling into his embrace. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“Epifania,” he began tentatively. “Do you think that you could ever love me too?”
She smiled at him. “I do,” she whispered softly, leaning forward to kiss him again. This time he took greater initiative, wrapping his arms around her, deepening the kiss. She moaned as his conservative facade disappeared, revealing the man who was passionately in love with her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her all the more fiercely as she wrapped her arms around him. Once more they broke out of the kiss for air.
“Marry me, Epifania,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “Why should I risk my heart for the third time?”
“You won’t have to pay for me to be your solicitor,” he said, and she smiled.
“All right,” she agreed. “They do say the third time’s the charm.” She smiled at him, and he returned her smile, kissing her.
“I love you, Epifania,” he said.
“I love you, Julius,” she replied. “And I retract my statement – you’re not worthless at all.”
He began to laugh, and she joined in. Obviously his sense of humour was rubbing off on her. She leaned forward and kissed him again, laughing against his lips. He laughed as well, holding her close to him.
“I’ll love you forever, Epifania,” he said.
“I’m glad,” she replied. “I love you, too.”
