A Door was Left Open (standard:romance, 4529 words)
Author: Sfbaywriter	Added: Feb 11 2002	Views/Reads: 3359/2263	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
We don't always know what we really want until something happens that shakes up what we think is real.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

The bar was a typical small neighborhood bar. A large bar running 
parallel to the street. Stools and a few tables crowded together in 
front of the bar. The bartender was reading the newspaper leaning on 
the bar when they came in. When the bartender saw they were sitting at 
a table instead of the bar, he looked annoyed. They both noticed how he 
acted as if he had something else to do. Dan had to get up and order 
the first round of drinks then came back and sat down. They talked 
about some general topics while waiting for the drinks. After the 
drinks arrived, they started talking about Charlie and the service.  
Jake wanted to know if Dan thought it was strange there did not seem to 
be anyone at the funeral who were not business associates in some form. 
Even though he knew Charlie had not been married for 20 years, he 
assumed he had some girlfriend or series of companions through the 
years. Dan laughed as he listened to Jake. 

Dan moved in his chair, took a drink, and leaned forward. "Look Jake,
Charlie was a great businessman. Smart, aggressive, decisive, strong, 
creative, and demanding. But he had no friends I knew of and I never 
saw him with a woman. I worked with him for 10 years. The best CEO I 
have ever known. I would have followed him anywhere. But I never 
thought of him as a friend. He had no interest in anything but work. 
When I had my first child, he didn't even congratulate me. He was 
always cold and distant. It doesn't surprise me at all." 

Jake sat back to consider this. He thought about his relationship with
Charlie and realized that Charlie never shared anything about his life 
with him nor showed any interest in his personal life. Even when Jake's 
dad had passed away, Charlie had not recognized it. They talked for 
several more hours about Charlie and his seemly single dimensional 
life. At some point in the conversation, Jake thoughts moved from 
Charlie's life to his own. When Jake realized this, he concluded he 
might be going somewhere he was not ready to visit. So he told Dan he 
needed to catch up on some work, paid for the drinks, shook hands, and 
left. 

Within a few minutes he was back in his apartment. He sat down on his
leather couch but felt restless, his mind racing. He couldn't get 
Charlie off his mind. He wanted to call someone and talk, but no one 
came to mind. He wondered if he died how different his funeral might 
be? He did not like some of the conclusions he was reaching. He jumped 
up, went into his bedroom and pulled together some clothes slamming 
them into a suitcase and within minutes was on his way to the airport. 
He realized he was running, but was he running away or running to 
something? He called his office and left a message for his assistant. 
He was taking his first vacation in years. 

He arrived at the airport and went into the airline club and checked the
departure board. The next flight out was to Portland. Without 
considering what he might do once in Portland, he bought a first class 
ticket and within a few minutes was seated in seat 2a, having a drink. 
The flight arrived on time and he quickly rented a car. It was late so 
he decided to get a room at an airport hotel. He fell asleep easily. 

He started the day as he always does The Wall Street Journal, coffee,
and some cereal. He purchased a map of Oregon and planned where he 
would go. He checked out and jumped into his car. Heading west out of 
Portland, he drove to the coast. When he reached the coastal highway, 
he had to decide which way to go. Almost as if he was on automatic, he 
headed south without giving it much thought. He drove past a few small 
resort towns. When he saw the sign for Cannon Beach he tuned off. He 
found a room at a resort that overlooked the beach. He opened the door 
to his room, dropped his bag and went outside onto his patio. He leaned 
against the railing with both arms locked. 

He studied the beach. Cannon Beach is a long, wide, beach that extends
for eight or nine miles. There are a large number of seastacks off 
shore and headlands on shore framing the beach.  Near the middle 
extending outward from the beach into the ocean is Haystack Rock. 
Haystack Rock is the largest of the granite seastacks rising about 235 
feet above sea level and is home to a variety of sea birds, so even 
from a distance, you can hear the cries of the birds. On each side of 
Haystack are jagged triangular shaped seastacks. The side closet to the 
beach contains a large number of tide pools. As the high tide retreats, 
the tide pools attract dozens of people looking to see what small 
creatures have been left behind. Haystack Rock is impressive and most 
coming to Cannon Beach take note of it immediately. Jake did notice a 
young couple walking down the beach. They each had one arm around the 
other. The woman's hand was in the back pocket of the man's shorts. 
They walked slowly, talking and laughing. Once in awhile the woman 
would remove her hand from his back pocket and caress his butt. They 
stopped and gently kissed each other. They reached a shallow pool of 
water and she splashed him. He chased and caught her, grabbing her 
around the waist and dragged her kicking into the water. Jake laughed 
to himself as he watched the scene unfold. 

He turned away from the beach, grabbed a chair, and pulled it up close
to the railing. He sat down, leaned forward with his arms overlapping, 
and rested his chin on his arms. Looking out, he noticed a couple of 
young boys playing at the edge of the water. They were running, kicking 
the water up onto each other. As each new wave broke upon the shore, 
they would stand with their leg spread, arms extended out into the 
ocean, waiting for the water. As soon as it neared them, they took off 
running up the sand towards a man sitting. They were talking and 
pointing towards the waves. The man, Jake assumed the father, kept 
shaking his head sideways. The boys would run back to the water's edge 
and start the ritual again. Jake felt a sense of longing watching the 
children playing. He looked at his watch and realized he had been 
outside for 4 hours. He decided he needed to take a walk. He was not 
ready to deal with what he was feeling. 

He walked outside the hotel. He decided to walk down towards the center
of town. The street he was on is lined with galleries, gift shops, 
eating and drinking establishments, and retail shops. The street was 
very busy. Jake moved down the street slowly. His mind was racing and 
his stomach tight. Jake started to feel a bunch of emotions at once. He 
was trying to sort through them and sat down on a bench in front of a 
crowded gallery. He thought of his youth and started to feel nostalgic. 
He thought of the many Friday nights, when he would pile into a car 
with his friends, rushing to Ocean City so they could quickly find a 
room in some cheap boardwalk hotel. Then heading out onto the boardwalk 
to find the parties. Playing all night long, sleeping during the day, 
and then starting over again the next night. Chasing girls, dancing, 
singing, running around and having no real responsibilities. Thinking 
of those days brought a smile to his face and calmed his emotions. 

Suddenly, as if someone dropped the gallery down in front of him, he
looked into the window and gazed at the paintings. The paintings 
reminded him of his love for art and helped him recalled his jaunt to 
Paris with Sheri, the artist. He wondered how she was and where she 
might be. She had amazed him, teaching him so much about art and life. 
She embraced each day as if it was the last one she expected to have. 
Everything was special or wonderful. She believed the world was full of 
magic if you opened yourself to it. They inhaled Paris and all it had 
to offer. Why hadn't he ever gone back? He hadn't been in a gallery or 
museum for years. What happen to his love and lust for life? Had he 
allowed his work to consume everything else? 

He needed to get up and do something. He noticed a sign in front of the
gallery announcing the opening for Marsha Grille's newest works. He 
looked again at the paintings in the window.  One in particular caught 
his attention. The ocean was crashing into some rocks, children playing 
on the beach, and in the distance people were walking into some low 
fog. The scene was simple, but the colors bold, brush strokes distinct 
and strong, making you take note of each part of the painting. He liked 
it and walked inside surveying the scene. Huddled into a corner, locked 
into a discussion, was a striking woman with someone taking notes as 
they talked. Interview he immediately thought. He laughed to himself 
and wondered if the questions being asked were any more insightful or 
interesting than those he fielded all the time were. He watched her 
respond. She had shoulder length black hair, green eyes and wore a 
short black top with straps across her shoulder with tight fitting blue 
jeans. She wore a necklace with large purple stones set in a gold 
backing. He found himself wanting to get closer so he maneuvered 
himself close enough to listen to the conversation. Pretending to eye 
one particular painting, he listened as she described her inspiration 
to the reporter. Listening to her soft but strong voice express how 
much of her inspiration seemed to come from difficult times in her life 
drew him in. She spoke of a particular relationship that ended abruptly 
and painfully, but how the experience had taught her so much about 
herself. She felt that the art she created then had been her most 
personal and satisfying. She spoke of him as a teacher, someone who had 
helped her become the person she now was. Amazed at her optimism and 
how at ease she was discussing her life openly, Jake looked over at her 
and smiled. In the midst of a response, she noticed him and smiled 
back. Then she went back and continued her conversation. 

The crowd by now had also noticed Marsha and started to move towards
her. Jake started to feel somewhat claustrophobic and needed to get out 
of the gallery for awhile. He moved through the crowd rapidly, onto the 
street and headed towards his hotel. He kept thinking of her and her 
smile. Suddenly he stopped walking. He realized how long it had been 
since any woman made an impression on him. Each day he passed so many 
women and never gave them a second thought. He absolutely never 
considered asking to meet for lunch or a drink. Hell, it had been a 
couple of years since he had even had a date. His stomach started to 
ache and he felt as if his breathing was inhibited. He wondered if he 
might get sick. He started to swiftly walk, then run, back to his hotel 
room. He opened the door and collapsed on the bed. He felt fatigued and 
weak. He closed his eyes and saw her smiling face again. He heard her 
soft voice as he dozed off. 

Jake woke up and looked at the clock. The gallery was likely still open.
He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, thinking he needed to 
see her. He got up and ran back to the gallery. The gallery had one 
large room with several smaller rooms linking to the large room. He 
proceeded from room to room looking for her. He passed by a closed door 
with a small dark window. Finally he arrived back in the large room, 
"She was not there." Jake mumbled to himself. Feeling discontented and 
not sure what to do next, he found a bench and sat down. He started to 
examine her work hoping he might learn something about her. He found 
himself drawn to a painting of a small girl playing on the beach. 

In the dark room Jake had passed by, Marsha watched him as he sat
staring at her self-portrait. She wondered if he knew the young girl 
smiling back at him was she. As she watched him, Marsha wondered who he 
was and why he had come back. She had looked for him after the 
interview but he had left. A sales person came over to Jake and they 
started talking. She felt chills up and down her back, as it became 
apparent he might buy the painting. She watched, smiling, as he 
purchased the painting and left. She quickly went to see the sales 
person. 

Marsha woke up early the next day. Normally she slept in and seldom was
out and about before lunchtime. He was on her mind.  Between what she 
had learned from the sales person and her observations, she was 
developing a sense of him. She now knew he lived in San Francisco and 
also what hotel he was staying in. She had though of calling his hotel 
and thanking him, maybe asking him to meet for lunch. When she found 
out he was booked for two more nights she decided to sleep on it. So 
now, as the morning light started to brighten her dark room, she lay in 
bed thinking about him. Feeling restless she got dressed and decided to 
get a cappuccino. As she walked, she wondered why Jake had made such a 
strong impression upon her. She sensed he was troubled for some reason. 
She knew he was here by himself and he was the CEO of some software 
company. When he had come back she watched him as he moved through the 
gallery. It was clear there was some purpose to his visit. He looked 
somewhat lost, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and she 
could see stress in his face. She found him very alluring. Dark hair, 
green eyes, well built, with a nice smile. She walked inside the 
coffeehouse, and there he was. Sitting alone reading the local paper, 
cappuccino and a pastry in front of him. 

Jake looked up and saw her. Standing in front of him smiling. She
thanked him for buying her painting. "How did you know I bought it?" "I 
watched you buy it." She said smiling. "What? How did you do that? I 
looked for you and you weren't in the gallery." "You looked for me?" 
Marsha smiled Jake knew he was in unfamiliar territory. He felt 
guarded, wondering if he was ready to open himself up to her. It had 
been so long. Yet there she was, smiling, standing in front of him 
waiting to hear him tell her he had not been able to think of anything 
else but her. He had written her a letter last night, the letter a plea 
to meet. The words expressing how strong of an impression she had made. 
He thought about how lonely he had been, not even knowing it himself, 
until he had seen her. He had the letter in his pocket, still trying to 
decide whether to mail it or not. Jake took a deep breath, "Yes. I 
wanted to talk to you." Marsha smiled. "Let me get some coffee and then 
you can do just that." Jake nodded and watched as she ordered her 
drink. She turned and smiled. Jake felt the blood rush to his face; 
sure he was blushing, and smiled back. Quickly she got her drink, a 
bagel, and sat down at his table. "What made you buy that particular 
painting?" "The girl drew me in. I felt I had seen her before. I had a 
strong sense I knew her or maybe she had been someone I wanted to know 
and never did. I am not really sure. It was just her smile and the 
feelings she evoked inside me I liked. I wished I could know her as an 
adult. I wondered if I did." Marsha smiled and took a sip of her drink. 
She broke off a piece of her bagel and held it with one hand. As she 
moved her hand towards her mouth, she whispered, "It's a self 
portrait." A moment of silence passed between them. They both sat 
staring into each other's eyes. There were no movements or sounds 
between them. The entire world came to a stop for both of them at that 
moment and nothing else existed. 

What happens when two souls come together for the first time? The moment
you realize the person sitting in front of you may be the one you have 
been searching for all your life.  Did they recognize that they had 
been moving on separate paths destined to come together in some small 
coffeehouse in Cannon Beach, Oregon? Did Jake fly to Portland by 
accident? Why did he drive south instead of north when he hit the 
coast? Why not stop in Seaside or continue driving farther south to 
Newport or Florence. Why had he selected the painting of Marsha as a 
child? The painting she decided at the last minute to include in the 
opening. She loved that painting and didn't want to sell it. It was too 
personal she felt. Yet at the last minute, she had decided to pack it 
up and send it off. Why? What made her change her mind? 

Finally Jake spoke. "I knew I had seen you in her eyes. I know it sounds
strange, even as I speak the words they sound a bit so to me.  Maybe I 
wanted to have you with me so I could look upon you when needing some 
reassurance or comfort. I needed to see your smile and I wasn't sure if 
I would any other way." Marsha smiled and looked into his eyes. "While 
I watched you yesterday, I found myself wanting you to buy that 
painting. I almost decided against showing it, but something inside 
made me realize I needed to show this painting. I didn't know why until 
right now." 

Jake sighed and leaned forward. His eyes gazing into hers. "I have spent
the last 10 years of my life working to build first my career, and then 
my company. All of my passion, intellect, energy, and love had flowed 
into it. I lived and breathed work. I had not allowed myself to 
understand how lonely I was. How so much of what I did was to mask the 
longing and hunger I felt. About a week ago, the most important person 
in my life died. I felt nothing, no emotion or no sense of loss. I went 
to his funeral and saw he had no family of close friends. Only business 
associates. I had a long talk with one of them and realized that 
Charlie was not loved and no one would cry or mourn for him. It scared 
me because in Charlie's death, I saw my future," 

Marsha leaned forward and slowly extended her hand across the tabletop
and took his hand. "Go on please, don't let me stop you." 

"I needed to get away. So for the past few days I have been trying to
understand what my life had become. Why I had not pursued things 
interesting to me, or why I have not been interested in anything 
besides work. I still am trying to understand all of this, but I feel I 
know why I ended up in Cannon Beach," "Why?" Marsha asked already 
knowing the answer. "You! You were in Cannon Beach. For me to find you, 
I needed to get here. Somehow I knew you were going to be here. I 
needed to be here now. If I had chosen to come last week or even next 
week, I might not of found you. It was this moment and at this place 
that I needed to be." 

They both contemplated what had just been spoken. Two strangers, meeting
over a cup of coffee had somehow quickly become intimate friends, 
confidants, and possibly more. They continued to talk over their 
coffee. Morning turned to afternoon. They shared more and more about 
each other, found many areas of interest, felt themselves feeling 
closer to each other. They eventually decided to take a walk on the 
beach together. 

As they walked on the beach Jake thought about what had just happen.
Just a couple of days ago he was in San Francisco getting ready for a 
funeral. Now he was walking on the beach, holding hands with a woman he 
just met, but already felt he needed. He wondered if it was possible 
they were meant to be together or if it was just a series of random 
events that led them to each another? If fate determined they would 
meet, did fate also decide that Charlie would die? Was what he felt 
real or was there something about the moment and where each were in 
their own life, that led them to believe there was more to their 
meeting then there truly was?  Could he make room in his life for other 
passions? Jake's mind was racing once again, his emotions churning and 
he was beginning to feel weak. 

Suddenly Jake felt her stop walking and felt her arms pulling him
towards her. He felt her soft warm lips for the first time. They stood 
there kissing each other passionately. Jake started to feel excited and 
calm at the same time. Jake's mind seemed clear and the path forward 
obvious. They started to walk again and Jake decided it was time for 
him to start taking some chances. Smiling, he thought of one thing in 
particular she had said to him.  Sometimes doors and windows are open 
you did not know existed. 1 

1 


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