Ewan McGregor
True, it's terribly dodgy and in awfully bad taste, but it was my first ever piece of story-writing that was more than a poem. Try not to cringe as you read.. I can't help it.
Well, you’ve done it. You’ve finally saved up enough to travel to Crieffe, Ewan’s hometown and where his family live. Of course, you know you won’t see the man himself – after all, he’s settled down in England at the moment and from there he’s going to Australia…but you wanted to come to Crieffe, just to experience what it was like for him. To possibly walk down the same street he did twenty years ago. It sends a shiver down your spine just thinking about it, and as you walk down the road you can almost see him walking ahead of you. You sigh, and continue on.
All around you are old buildings and pubs…ah, pubs! You wander into the nearest one and over to the bar, where you order a drink. You take a seat, then look around. Hmm, drunk guy in the corner, couple near the window, about four men sitting at a table and two at the bar with you. You casually look to the man a few seats down on your left, trying not to make it look too obvious that you’re looking at him. He glances over at you and smiles.
"Hallo."
You extend your hand and tell him your name.
"Ah, I’m Scott McDonelly."
Oh, love those Scottish accents! Then you look to the man on your right in the same manner as the man before. His head is in his arms, so you don’t bother. You turn back to the man on the left.
"Do you live here?" You ask.
"Aye."
"And what do the people of Crieffe do for fun?"
The man on the right sits up. He has been listening.
"They bloody leave!" He laughs. You turn to face him to insult him, as you think Crieffe is a wonderful place – what you’ve seen of it, anyway. But nothing comes out, except maybe your heart – it’s in you mouth, as you realise you’re about to insult the one and only Mr McGregor! You quickly shut your mouth, then laugh at his ‘witty joke’. But then you feel like your laugh was too corny. You cringe at yourself and go to apologise, but stop. You don’t want him thinking you’re a fool, do you now? You go to speak, to introduce yourself, but his head drops back into his hands. You rack your brain, and then, an idea!
You clear your throat. "Are you alright?" You say, trying not to sound too concerned, but still slightly concerned, all at the same time. He looks up. Your heart pounds.
"Not really," he replies. Your opportunity has come!
"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask. In your head the word ‘yes’ echoes over and over, as you hope to God he says it.
"Would you mind much?"
Your heart stops. "No, I’m not due anywhere anytime soon!"
He turns and looks into your eyes – you’re already looking into his. Blue, so blue. Almost piercing, you think. He sighs – you’ve already done that, too!
"Well…my wife left me. She couldn’t handle…oh, you wouldn’t understand."
You’re shocked, but sublimely happy at the thought of a single Ewan!
"No, please, go on…" you say.
He sighs again. "I don’t know. I’m beginning to think it was for the best. We rushed into it a bit – the marriage and all. But my daughter – it’ll probably end up as a custody battle, and Eve – my wife (you already knew that name, you’ve been throwing darts at it on your wall ever since they got married) will probably win. She’s got more time than I do to spend with Clara – my daughter. I love her so much, ya know?"
You nod, then speak up about your personal battles that relate to his, like when your parents divorced and you were stuck in the middle. Ewan perks up here, cutting in on you.
"You were stuck in the middle? What happened?"
"Well," you say, choosing your words carefully," I ended up staying with my mum, but I went to stay with my father every holidays. He lived across the other side of the country, too."
Ewan nods, then realises something.
"How do you know I live far away from my daughter?"
You blush, and realise you probably shouldn’t have added that bit.
"Uh, well, um, you see…" you catch a bad case of verbal diarrhoea and you can’t stop mumbling over words.
Ewan sits back on his stool and chuckles.
"You know who I am, don’t you?" He asks me, still chuckling.
"Uh, yeah." You say, blushing furiously.
‘Well I may as well introduce myself properly, as I don’t know your name!" He adds, a gleam in his eye. You smile furiously. Very furious you are.
"Ewan McGregor," he says, extending his hand to you. You reach out to him, offering your name. He grabs your hand and as you shake, you close your eyes and want someone to pinch you!
As he lets go of your hand, you open your eyes again.
"Anyway," you say as casually as you can, "What were you saying about Eve?"
"I’ve left her. I don’t really know how it happened. We just weren’t made for each other, I suppose. But I’m worried about Clara."
You nod. "I’m sure it’ll work out for you."
"The thing is, I’m always away filming. Eve got sick of following after me, and Australia’s too far away by her standards. So I’m going by myself when the time comes, I’m through with her. We’ve been separated for a year already, it was only a few weeks ago we decided that was it." He stops. "Do you want to go for a walk?" He asks.
"Sure, why not?" You reply.
You both get up and walk out the door. As you walk down the street, he grabs your hand. You look at him and he is looking at you, smiling. He leans towards you and kisses you softly.
And then you wake up.
Sorry, I just had to ruin it for you!!!! He’s MINE!!!
