The cold mid-day spring rain in
“James, darling”, she whispered in a caressing voice, in the same manner and intonation that one would use when speaking to a crying infant in order to calm him down. But James did not need to be calmed down; he was already lifeless, a blank canvas for a face that needed a miracle artist to add color and life to something so empty. His once perfect facial structure, now haggard and sunken, must have been the result of his new diet of liquor and cigarettes.
“It’s a lovely day outside. I love when it rains.” She forced a much-needed smile as she removed her kitchen apron and headed over to stand next to her emotionally draining husband. Anne began to move her delicate fingers to his back, but quickly pulled away when she saw a single tear fall from his sunken baby-blue eyes and roll down his pale, rough cheek. Feeling entirely helpless, Anne decided to go upstairs to the bedroom and find something that could keep her from thinking about James.
As she slowly made her way up the stairs, Anne could hear the echo of the creaking steps every time she moved, the only sound she heard in the lifeless and vacant house, a place she would soon have trouble calling a real home again. The stairs seemed to cry out in pain with every continuing step, mimicking her inner emotions of sorrow for her once caring, energetic husband that she feels she might soon lose forever.
The new James only revealed himself two long days ago, unexpectedly, from a reason unknown to poor Anne. She tried to go through possible reasons in her mind: Could it be a realization from the war? But the Great War ended just over five years ago. He never tried to show emotions from his time over in France, fighting the Germans, in order to comfort his ever-worried, emotional-wreck of a wife. Anne did not really know enough about the war and did not really intend to look too much into all the world violence. She figured that the less she knew, the better she could sleep at night. But why would he suddenly break down after showing no sign of emotional distress until so recently? She thought this to herself as she slowly wiped the silent, streaming tears from her once striking dark eyes, now swollen and glazed-over.
Anne loved her husband and supported him, even if she did not approve. Even though the prohibition of alcohol was still in full effect, she supported him and the illegal scotch he so much enjoyed. He never became violent and did not drink too often, so she refused to disapprove of something he enjoyed. And he greatly loved her for that in return. They were the “perfect” couple. Even when James lost his job at the factory many years ago after hurting his wrist, they helped each other through the hardships until he healed. With all they have been through, she could not stand seeing James like this, and the realization of his new self snapped her back into reality.
Sitting completely still at the end of the bed, Anne gazed back at her reflection in the mirror of her dresser, her face pale, eyes still puffy. But she did not understand. She looked so much better and felt so much better, physically, compared to the last couple weeks. She flawlessly moved her skinny fingers of her left hand to touch her well-defined cheekbones. “Why is he so upset? I’m feeling and looking so much better. I just don’t understand…” she whispered softly, hoping that saying it aloud would help her recall more of the dreadful situation. She wrapped her fingers in her long, dark brown hair, her wedding band shimmering in the dim light of the room, and let her hand fall slowly to her lap.
After Anne collected her thoughts and settled down, she began to make her way downstairs again; this time, the stairs only seemed to make a low muffled sound as her mind entered a more positive, oblivious state.
“Honey, I’m going to make us some New England clam chowder, your absolute favorite!” the tone in her voice was cheerful, hoping that this would raise James’ spirits. No response, no movement. She tried to ignore this reaction by beginning to take out a cooking pot and the ingredients to make the dish. Unexpectedly, she heard a loud whimper as James bent his head over into his lap in agony. Stopping everything she started doing in the kitchen, Anne ran over to her husband, in shock, wondering how she should handle his reaction.
“James… James…” she calmly whispered into his ear, careful not to touch him in his hysterics. “Please, don’t do this to me. What happened to you?” This time, Anne’s tone grew more worried with a hint of frustration.
“You…” He whispered in a way that sounded like a bully punched him in the gut.
Anne was taken aback in horror. The bully stopped punching him and stabbed her right in the chest, nearly destroying her already fragile heart. This was the first word that he had said in the past two days, and with such morose and hidden hatred. Anne could not help thinking what was this horrible, ungodly incident she created that made him feel this way?
“Anne, what are you doing to me? Wasn’t you leaving me enough? I know it’s you, and I don’t know if I can handle this anymore… I smell your sensual perfume. I hear things like you are still here. Just let me know you are okay and then please stop this, my love. I love you too much; it’s killing me inside…” He trailed off in uncontrollable tears and sobs.
“What! What are you talking about? I’m right here!” her frustration grew worse through the mask of tears that reappeared. But it all came back to her to a flash of vibrant light. The hospital bed. The frantic nurses and doctors. They could not stop the coughing, the blood, the fatigue, the weight loss. The illness that she thought was cured had consumed her, her body but not her soul. The last moment she remembered before being “brought home” was James’ touch, which seemed warmer than usual, his soft hands holding hers in a firm yet gentle grip as if she would slip and fall forever if he let go. Anne’s new sense of reality eliminated her constant denial, which she often used to repress unpleasant incidents in her life. This had completely taken over the past two days, the day when she started feeling better, the day that James went into his unresponsive stupor.
Her new awareness shook her, but it did not stop her from bending down and kissing her hysterical husband gently, but ever-so-passionately on his forehead. He began to relax as color started to return to his face. His beautiful smile tried to emerge through the endless tears.
“I love you more than life itself.” She spoke these words softly, genuinely, followed by a subtle chuckle at the irony of her statement. He could feel her. He could hear her now, faintly but clearly. “…And I will be fine; I will be just fine.” She smiled and kissed him softly one more time, this time on his lips. “Promise me you’ll be fine, too. Promise me”, she almost choked on her words, “Promise me that you’ll live…"
The smile that she greatly longed for appeared on his face, and their wilted hearts began healing themselves again. His bright eyes longed to see hers as he tried to focus in her direction but instead was looking through to the other side of the living room. He did not say anything, but his face said it all. He loved her and will love her until they can be together once again. He would keep his promise for as long as his body would let him. And with that, the room was empty. Anne’s spirit was no longer with James. But a new and unexpected hope and happiness allowed him to rise slowly from his chair that had recently become a part of him. Steadily walking to the door, he opened it, breathing in the refreshing air, and stepped out into the bright and lasting sun.
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