“Is there no other way?” I confess I am pleading. I, too proud even to admit to my own mistakes, am pleading! The evening shadows, entering the room as if they own it, are almost as cold as his eyes.
“We’ve been through this”, his eyes shift from mine to the wall behind me, and I see them hardening. “I cannot deal with it. I have to go. Drawing it out won’t help you – and certainly not me.”
“But why…?”
Somewhere at the back of my mind, hope – hope, like menthol and antiseptic – is beginning to burgeon.
“I’m leaving in another ten minutes. I’ve sent for a cab.”
“I’m leaving in another ten minutes. I’ve sent for a cab.”
“But…”
“Must we? Must we? How many times have we talked this over? There is nothing else to be done. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?”
“Is it so easy for you?”
“Don’t ever say that again”. His teeth are clenched. “Don’t you dare.”
“I thought I – ” “Shut up.”
I shut my eyes tight. I’m still too proud to cry.
The sunshine hurts my eyes.
I find myself clenching my fist. And, suddenly, my peace is shattered by a hundred voices.
When I open my eyes again, he is standing by the window. I think – wishfully, perhaps – that his shoulders are drooping. I measure the three steps between us. Slow, heavy steps.
“Don’t”, he spins around, even before I have laid my hand on his shoulder. He knows. He has always known. Known things that I didn’t – and known them before I thought them. He still knows.
The sunshine hurts my eyes.
I find myself clenching my fist. And, suddenly, my peace is shattered by a hundred voices.
When I open my eyes again, he is standing by the window. I think – wishfully, perhaps – that his shoulders are drooping. I measure the three steps between us. Slow, heavy steps.
“Don’t”, he spins around, even before I have laid my hand on his shoulder. He knows. He has always known. Known things that I didn’t – and known them before I thought them. He still knows.
“Let’s not make this any tougher than we can help”, he brushes brusquely past me.
I try reaching for his wrist. Something stirs in the depths of my consciousness.
I grasp only air.
I can feel the sobs beginning to convulse me. I’d give anything for a last glance, but I haven’t the strength. I haven’t the strength.
With an effort of will, I look up. Everything is a blur through my tears. He walks down the corridor, and his receding back is all I see. Even through the blur, I can see that he hasn’t looked back once, that he will not look back.
--------------
“I’m here.”
I struggle to open my eyes. Everything is still a blur. My head is throbbing, my mouth parched.
Sunlight filters in through olive green blinds. He notices me glancing with distaste at the blinds, and he laughs. That honest, open laugh that I know better than the sound of my own voice, and love so much.
“You still hate hospitals’ colour schemes, don’t you?” he asks softly, taking my hand and holding it between both of his.
“Goodbye, love.”
As he turns to the tray at my bedside, I close my eyes gratefully.
I try reaching for his wrist. Something stirs in the depths of my consciousness.
I grasp only air.
I can feel the sobs beginning to convulse me. I’d give anything for a last glance, but I haven’t the strength. I haven’t the strength.
With an effort of will, I look up. Everything is a blur through my tears. He walks down the corridor, and his receding back is all I see. Even through the blur, I can see that he hasn’t looked back once, that he will not look back.
--------------
“I’m here.”
I struggle to open my eyes. Everything is still a blur. My head is throbbing, my mouth parched.
Sunlight filters in through olive green blinds. He notices me glancing with distaste at the blinds, and he laughs. That honest, open laugh that I know better than the sound of my own voice, and love so much.
“You still hate hospitals’ colour schemes, don’t you?” he asks softly, taking my hand and holding it between both of his.
“Goodbye, love.”
As he turns to the tray at my bedside, I close my eyes gratefully.
No comments:
Post a Comment