She
sits hunched over, legs drawn up close to her body, with her arms wrapped tight
about her knees, her long hair draped about her: hiding her like a shield,
quivering with her sobs. Her bent head rests on her arms, and the worn blue
jeans soak up the tears that run down her cheeks.
She
breathes in a deep shaky breath, trying desperately to calm herself, but it
doesn’t work. She feels so numb and yet there’s a pain deep in her chest, a
sharp, consistent ache. She lifts her head and leans her wet chin on her
forearm, so that a long lock of golden russet hair falls over her shoulder and caresses her wet
cheek. She brushes it away and looks around, unseeing, remembering sweet things
that have been, causing her small delicate face to contort in pain again.
Tiny,
salty droplets squeeze out of the corners of her eyes as she slowly lowers her
head, the tears rolling down her cheeks darken the faded jeans once more.
‘Why?’she
wonders.‘Why should one person walking out of my life hurt so much?’. She tries
reasoning with herself, ‘It doesn’t matter,
It wasn’t meant to be, I didn’t really love him anyway?’, but it is
useless!
Great wracking sobs
shake her slight form, ‘Ít does matter!, It was meant to be!, I do really love
him!...How couldn’t I?’. Just thinking about it hurt like hell. ‘Will he ever
hold me tight in his arms again, or kiss my lips so softly like he always
did?’.
She feels so weak.Her
red rimmed green eyes sting. Her whole body seems to ache. The pain in her chest
is worse and she wonders ‘How long can it possibly hurt like this?, Does he
hurt too?’. Her stomach aches and she longs for fresh air. ‘That might help my
body feel better at least,’ she thinks bitterly.
She slowly
straightens up and rises unsteadily to her feet, swaying a bit, as she looks
down at herself. Her red shirt is crumpled and stained and her old faded blue
jeans have a few new holes. She sighs and rakes a hand through her long tangled
curls.
Wincing at the knots
she looks around for her bag, spying it under her long black crushed-velvet
coat. ‘I’ve always loved these long laced sleeves,’ she thinks absent mindedly
as she snatches her bag from under the coat and starts rifling through it.Then
in exasperation she tips it out in a heap on her grandmother’s ancient Celtic
rug.
Extracting her silver
encrusted lighter and packet of Escort Red from the pile, she heads for the
door, stepping over obstacles in her way. With a few shakes, a curse and a
shove, the old door rattles open to the night.
The sky is alight
with stars, the moon, a silver ball, is just rising. She smells the sweet moist
scent of rain on the breeze and almost smiles. She loves it when it rains and
its scent had always made her feel better, though she doubts anything could
right now.
As She steps out onto
the dew covered grass, their icy spiked stems sting her bare feet and she
quickens her step, her long curls caress her waist as she walks. As she reaches
the old willow tree a few yards away she parts the long hanging veil of branches
and enters the dappled security of its confines.
She lights a
cigarette and leans back against the rough bark of its trunk. She gazes up
through the branches at the stars, deep in thought.
The pain in her chest
has not eased or lessened, nor the lifeless dull feeling that blocks her
senses. She paces around the clearing under the willow’s swaying branches,
mumbling sweet nothings he had whispered in her ear.
She angrily stubs out
her cigarette on the wet grass, ‘So much for the fresh air,’ she mumbles as she
listens to it sizzle in the damp earth.
‘It’s my fault’ she
thinks, ‘I should have let him know how I felt, is it too late?’. She gives up, closing her eyes tight, her long,
dark, curling lashes shadow her pale cheeks.‘Thinking about it like this isn’t
going to help,’ she reasons to herself.
Then she hears
footfalls coming slowly down the drive. Long, men’s strides.
She opens her eyes to
darkness and pale shadows, the moon has abandoned the night to the stars with
pale swirling clouds hiding the glowing orb and its light.
‘Who could it be at
this hour?’ she wonders glancing at her glowing wristwatch that shows 4:14 am.
The sound is getting
closer, no more than a few feet away. ‘Who could it be?’.Then she knows
instinctively. She feels him. As she always could when he was near.
Then everything is
bathed in the moon’s silvery glow, as the whispy clouds pass and he stops in
front of her. His gaze catches hers through the willow’s dappled veil, their
eyes reflect the moonlight, hiding nothing as they stare at each other
silently. His tall broad shouldered form stands very still.
Then he comes
forward, the leafy boughs parting for him in the breeze, as he stops to stand
barely inches from her and drops to his knees at her feet. Wrapping his arms
tight about her waist, he lays his head on her breast, his warm breath fanning
the curls that hang over her shoulder.
The empty pain in her
chest lifts as new tears come and she holds him tight, lacing her fingers in
his dark hair, as she slides down in front of him. Looking into each others
eyes, their lashes sparkling with un-shed tears as green eyes meet brown, all
the unsaid words seem needless as they smile just before their lips meet in a
soft kiss.
By Vanessa and Sue Andersson
a few yeas ago...
