One of the other Forum participants, screen named "Bertieamrstrong" loved writing romantic tales starring Gabriel Byrne and girls on the forum.  She has written several of these stories and even featured me,TouchedByThPoet in a few of them.  Romance stories are not my strength but I wanted to write a story starring Bertie and Gabriel Byrne to thank her for her entertaining tales.

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Bertie Goes to New York

Bertie typed out her final chapter, sprawled on the floor, hammering out her Harlequin prose in staccato quick time, she was a consummate master at spinning a PG-13 tale and she was currently finishing up her masterpiece. At this stage in her life, 63 years young, Bertie had begun reading and posting to an Internet forum; tales of adventure and romance in the style of the novels she had consumed in her youth. Bertie understood that formula well and could give birth to that style of prose effortlessly. She created and posted her initial chapters and the stories had become an instant success with site readers. Since that moment, nursing the ongoing story had become a favorite pastime. New scenes, new characters, new twists and romantic couplings came rushing from her mind sometimes faster than her rapid-fire typing could record them for the world.

Technology was a marvelous thing she thought. This generation has no idea what advantages they have.

As Bertie finished up her latest chapter, she thought about her upcoming weekend. She had decided to meet one of her new online friends in New York. Every time her mind danced over the details, a small legion of chill bumps goose-stepped across her skin, triggered by thoughts of her stealing away to see a play, an actor; a man. It was embarrassing really, she knew that, but for the first time in years, since her beloved Rudy had passed, Bertie had felt an interest in the opposite sex. She had begun acting like one of the characters in her stories, cow-eyed and mooning over a dark and brooding Heathcliff; a handsome actor with a crooked half-smile that exposed a wide-open, heart-stopping vulnerability, a poet with languid eyes that she swore could see through skin and muscle and bone. The actor's name was Gabriel Byrne.

Bertie's insatiable hunger to know more about this actor had led her, fatefully, to this Internet forum and ushered her into this strange sisterhood. From ages seventeen to seventy, women gathered here to whisper tales of a newfound madness and bear witness to their struggles against their calmer natures. The site was brimming with words of worship for his physical beauty; the shape of his nose, the contours of his upper lip, the perfection of the dark curls that dangled over his forehead. It was also full of their comical confessions, embarrassing testimonials of their preoccupation with the man; food burned, appointments forgotten, husbands completely ignored.

Bertie had relayed a hilarious tale of her own, endearing her to the other posters right away. A film she had purchased based on their most urgent recommendation had finally arrived in the mail. Available only on VHS, the movie was rumored to contain the most wanton images of Gabriel Byrne available on celluloid. But after receiving the coveted package and attempting to view it on her ancient VCR, her plans were suddenly foiled; no signs of life came forth from the confounding machine. But Bertie's need to view the movie had already expanded beyond the bounds of logic and grown into a fire-breathing, jaw-snapping, razor-toothed beast. So epic in its proportions, this need, that it would not, could not be denied. Resourceful, ever resourceful, Bertie bolted from her home, out into the night, on a mission to purchase a brand new VCR. After arriving at the store and making inquires, Bertie was directed to the only unit left, an all in one TV/VCR high on the top shelf. Completely out of patience, going against staff pleas to wait for a ladder, Bertie hoisted her body up two levels of display scaffolding with the surprising ease of a seasoned rock climber. Clutching hungrily at the last remaining box, she claimed a conquering ownership of her prize; for a brief moment Bertie was Neal Armstrong plunging the Stars and Stripes deep into the surface of the moon. The staff looked on in wide-eyed wonder, whispering nervously amongst themselves, as Bertie leapt from her perch and stuck the landing with both feet planted firmly, the box secured safely in her grasp. Bertie's tale ended with the successful viewing of the film, and the girls were correct, the movie had been worth every ounce of effort she had put into its viewing. When it came to Gabriel Byrne, Bertie was not to be trifled with.

Bertie's continuing tales, her comical posts and her heartfelt stories about her husband Rudy, had won her many friends on the forum. A handful of her new friends were going to Manhattan this weekend to see Gabriel Byrne, live, in a revision of Camelot and at the last minute, Bertie had decided to go as well. One of the newer girls on the forum, named "Guardian", had taken a particular interest in Bertie after reading one of her posts about her husband Rudy. Guardian had also lost a mate many years ago and after trading several stories of lonely struggles and happier days, the two had bonded and a sense of simpatico and companionship had been forged. Rudy's birthday was coming up and while Bertie usually spent that day quietly reflecting on memories of her husband, Guardian had convinced her to do something different this year. The bittersweet ache that hung around Bertie's edges since Rudy's passing could sometimes snowball into a full blown melancholy during this time of year, so she agreed it might be nice to celebrate the day instead of mourning it. Guardian lived in the New York area and had volunteered to get Bertie's Camelot ticket and promised Bertie she would show her the town. Bertie couldn't wait to meet her newfound friend and see the man of her dreams all in one weekend.

She flew to New York and checked into her hotel room, threw her bags on the bed and headed out to the sidewalks of the city. She was supposed to meet Guardian in a small café near her hotel so she decided to meander toward that destination taking in the sights along the way. As she walked, her mind wandered and she found herself thinking of previous visits, trips from the past, restaurants, shows; a hundred silver evenings all tied up with memories of Rudy. Her mood began to turn decidedly wistful, but Bertie kept walking, concentrating on the sights and sounds, not wanting sadness to cast a dark shadow over her day. She walked a while longer, found the café, stepped inside and looked anxiously over the sparsely populated seating area. She was looking for a tall woman, close to her own age, with short dark hair. She saw only a few women in the restaurant and none fit that description. She settled in to wait at a sunny table by the window, with a glass of wine and Gabriel Byrne's autobiography, she was content to lose herself in his story until Guardian arrived. A half hour later Bertie was still alone, there was no sign of her new friend. After another hour, she was concerned, then angry, then hurt. A dawning realization had lodged itself firmly in her mind, she had trusted an imposter, had been played by a stranger she had believed to be her friend. Bertie's emotions, already hovering on the cusp of sadness, teetered slowly downward, breaking the tenuous hold she had on her tears. In a last ditch effort to maintain her dignity, Bertie lowered her face and raised her book to hide her misting eyes and troubled countenance from the world. She was in this downcast position when she heard the question:

“Pardon me but, would ya be Boortie?”  

The stranger’s question was simple enough, short and to the point, not a question that should have caused much concern.  Once it was uttered, the words trailing off into the atmosphere, Bertie found she could no longer hear anything over the cacophony in her own head.  She tried to lift her gaze, tried desperately to square her eyes to see the one posing the question, but her muscles were not obeying, her body not responding. The voice was the problem; the voice was recognizable, it was low in the chest, soft, little more than a whisper, it was singsong, it was melodic, it was lilting, it was a siren, a miracle of sound floating through the ether and settling like molasses around the fibers of her inner ear, that voice belonged to Gabriel Byrne.

Bertie’s eyes struggled upward to the top of her book, the top of the chair, to his torso, his shoulders, upward, ever upward until they finally settled on his face.  She tried to tell her heart to slow down its thunderous beating, her respiration to continue bringing life-giving oxygen to her bloodstream. She concentrated hard on staring at his face, drinking in the details of the man in the flesh. He appeared shorter than she expected, a little tired without makeup, but beauty would shine on this man until the day he died. His eyes were blue, bluer than any ocean, any sky, any bird she had ever seen. For several seconds, minutes, it seemed like hours, they remained suspended like that, his question hanging in the air, until Bertie managed to break out of her trance, resume her breathing and answer it with a whispered inquiry of her own.

“How did you know my name?”

He gave a smile, a wry, half smile that peaked higher on one side than the other, and then he pulled out a chair to sit down.  His eyes met hers again and he began with an apology, explaining that it was his fault that her friend Guardian had been delayed, because he, himself, had been delayed, because he was she and she was he.  Guardian was Gabriel Byrne

He could see that Bertie was confused.

He went on to explain that he had planned this meeting, he had picked this café and he was the one who had been corresponding with Bertie for several weeks.  He had heard so much about the HBO forums that he decided to read some of the posts himself.  After pouring through what seemed like countless threads about him, he stumbled upon the Inspirational Thread of IT Viewers.  He was riveted by some of the painful stories he read there and especially taken by Bertie’s story of her husband Rudy, it had reminded him of his dearly departed “Big Annie”.  He couldn’t explain it, but he felt an instant bond with Bertie and felt compelled to learn more about her.  He began reading her Harlequin chapters and decided he wanted to post some comments of his own, so borrowing his screen name from Bertie’s Gabriel-the-Guardian-Angel character, he began his double life, assuming the identity of a female poster. He hadn’t meant to deceive her about his gender but when Bertie had assumed he was female, he decided to go with it, assuming that she would only be willing to share certain details if she thought he was a woman too.  He hadn’t meant to let the deception continue, hadn’t meant to get so close to Bertie, and he certainly hadn’t set out to fly her to New York for a face to face meeting.  “But Boortie, after speakin’ with ya for so many weeks, after readin’ about those other girls coming to my show, I couldn’t stand the thought that you weren’t coming too.  I wanted to meet you and talk to you.   There are times when I need to talk to someone my own age.  I’m sorry if I deceived you but I knew you wanted to be here and I didn’t want ya spendin’ the weekend all alone”

Bertie had a difficult time processing the entire story, as unlikely as it seemed, this beautiful man desperately wanted a friend; someone to share his pain.  It suddenly broke her heart to think that as famous as he was, he had reached across the miles to connect with her because he knew Bertie’s loss was as significant as his own.  The two talked for several hours discussing their pasts, their childhoods, their parents and their friends, weaving down memory lane, calling up the people they had loved and lost. They talked on into the evening and Bertie asked him if he needed to rehearse for tomorrow night’s show. He assured her that rehearsals were over, that they had the evening off but that tomorrow would indeed be a big day, “and” he said, “your ticket is front and center at the gala show on opening night and if you’ll be my guest, I’d like you to accompany me as my dinner date for the evenin’”.  Bertie accepted his invitation immediately, barely believing the sequence of events over the last few hours. 

After leaving the café, the two walked around town while New York transformed from the last traces of dusk to indigo evening.  Sensibly shoed tourists, high-heeled art patrons, cyclists, cars and taxis, the hustle and bustled of the city swarmed around them, yet the couple walked and talked as if they were the only two people in Manhattan. They finally wound their way back to Bertie’s hotel and Gabriel walked her up to the door and stood there, looking at her, his eyes filled with wonder and humor, he looked down at his shoes, away at the street, anywhere but Bertie’s face.  He suddenly seemed painfully shy.  “Boortie”, he stammered, “I don’t know, I mean I don’t want ya to think I brought you here to take advantage….”.  Bertie stopped him.  “Gabriel, don’t, please, I’m too old for you”.  The look on his face was incredulous, surprised, confused.  “Boortie you’re younger than I am, surely?  You’re a beautiful woman. I just want this friendship to last.  I had no romantic designs on you when I invited you here and, I'm not sure you are ready, completely ready to leave Rudy behind, are ya?”.  Bertie was in no way prepared to answer that question and the unexpected pressure of a possible romantic interlude with this man made it difficult for her to think critically at this juncture.  She stood there in mute silence unable to go and unable to stay, until the doorman opened the door, breaking the spell and expectantly motioning them inside. Gabriel smiled knowingly, leaned over and kissed her cheek and promised to have her ticket waiting at the box office for the following evening.  Bertie turned away and headed into the hotel, barely believing the day she had.

The following day was one of the most memorable in Bertie’s life.  The show was a phenomenal success and Gabriel Byrne received multiple standing ovations. She was escorted backstage after the performance and waited silent and nervous as he wallowed in the after glow, wading through copious congratulatory notes, dozens of bouquets of flowers and the occasional adoring fan.  As the time progressed, he transformed himself from King Arthur back to Gabriel Byrne and they headed off for the second part of this surreal, enchanted evening.  A whirlwind of black ties and evening dresses, caviar and champagne, Bertie and Gabriel were seen having many quiet conversations throughout the evening.  Their faces close, their voices lowered, interrupting their intimacy only when the occasional wealthy patron insisted on a word with the star. When it was finally done and the evening was drawing to a close, Bertie found herself wishing it didn’t have to end but more than that, she found herself wishing Rudy could have been there to experience it with her.  And that’s when she knew, no matter where she and Gabriel found themselves at the close of the evening; her heart still belonged to another man. She wondered how she might answer if he asked to come up to her room, what she might say if he followed her into the elevator, but knew she couldn’t answer that question just yet, everything had moved far too fast.

They found their way back to Bertie’s hotel and sat in the downstairs bar until the wee hours of the morning, talking about poets and authors and politics and life.  Gabriel told her he was so happy he had the privilege of meeting her and hoped she would do him the honor of visiting him again in the very near future.  Then awkwardly, unbelievably timid, he kissed her on the mouth, lingering there for just a moment before righting himself and apologizing profusely.  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what I'm doin’,   I really just want you to know you’re as beautiful as anyone I know and I’m so happy you’re here”. Bertie smiled shyly, unable to believe what had just transpired.  “You’re a beautiful man Gabriel Byrne and you deserve to find someone you can love forever, the way I love Rudy”.  Gabriel looked at her with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his azure blue eyes.  “You Boortie, are a treasure.  I expect you to keep in touch with me”  He made a production out of entering her phone number into his cell phone, ensuring that with one touch he could reach out and call her anytime. Then he supervised Bertie’s efforts to do the same, making sure she entered his number into her phone as well.  Then he kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand, turned and walked toward the door.  “Oh and Boortie”, he called back, “don’t reveal my secret identity to the forum girls. I intend to keep checkin’ up on ya there too”.  Bertie nodded in agreement and watched him go; with a song in her heart and a dance in her step, she took the elevator up to her room. 

Epilogue:

The following week Bertie was reading the Forum and noticed that Guardian had posted a recap of the Camelot weekend.  It read as follows:

“I apologize that I couldn’t manage to meet many of you girls last weekend, but due to my work schedule, I only had a small amount of time before and after the show.  I personally had a magical weekend watching all the actors, listening to the incredible singing and experiencing this performance.  I love this show, Camelot, its one of my favorites and this production was one of the best I’ve seen.  I thought Byrne did a fairly good job, but he really isn’t much of singer and I noticed he tripped over some of his lines in one of the scenes.  I’m probably going to get “flamed” by many of you for those comments, but I’ve seen some very fine actors play this role so my expectations were quite high.  I can’t help it if I’m a little bit critical. 

On a personal note, I managed to make a new “friend” over the weekend that almost made me forget the Camelot show. We both have so much in common, we talked and laughed and spent every available moment together. There were times when it felt platonic and times when it felt romantic and to be honest, I’m not quite sure how we left it.  But I do know we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to keep in touch.  This was a memorable weekend for me on so many levels, thanks so much dear Bertie - Guardian”

Bertie sighed and then giggled and began to laugh uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.  “How in the world would she be able to explain this one to the girls?”

The End