I wait for him to come home. 6.35. The tyres tread the concrete. The door slams. His shoes clickety-clack down the hallway. The sound of shoes unnerves me. My feet have been bare for years. No reason to go out. I have waited all day for this, years for this, yet fear it. I fear he will stop coming to me. That there will be nothing to place in my waiting hands. He takes his tie off and drapes it on the back of the chair. So painfully slow. He looks at me. I can see him thinking ‘How’. He puts his hand in his pocket and our eyes meet.
There is nothing left to do any more but give in. I hold out my hand and she takes what she needs from me. Gulps it down with the water she always keeps on the draining board. Waiting for it. Waiting for me to come home. I am so tired but I can’t stop. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She has gone again. She sits in the hallway. Her back and legs against the cool wall. The hard brick is more of a comfort to her than me. I know that. Her head nods and as I carry her she is for a moment mine. I rest her body on the soft pillows. Her eyes are shut but she still looks tired. The kind of tired that sleep never cures.
I can feel you watching me. When the heaviness pulls me under. I feel the gentle touch of your fingers. I picture your baby face. The face which met me and embraced me. Not the one full of lines which sits in the dark watching my breath disappear. I hear you call my name. I feel you shaking me. Wake up. Wake up. I wish that I could wake up. I wish that in the morning we could forget today. I wish more than anything that I could feel you. That I could touch you too.
I feel her emptiness. It is my emptiness too. She has taken away today, yesterday and tomorrow. I hold her but she holds everything over me. I raise my hand. Place my fingers around her neck. I cover up the pink marks as if they have never been. I close my eyes and press down until her pulse becomes mine. I count out the beats. As if in holding her down I will become her. If I become her then I can free her. I can save us both from this dream.
interesting. I went to a son as a tired care giver for a feeble old mom. not sure if that was your intent. enjoyed the thinking you created in my mind.
ReplyDeleteThanks Old Grizz..it's always interesting to hear what people picture..Jae
ReplyDeleteWhew! This captures so much, two people trapped in a world they have created from their separate dependencies. And nothing else matters except that one bit of exchange that takes them worlds away from one another. Really good writing, evocative and imaginative.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Now this is very good. I immediately thought that she was addicted and he was her boyfriend, provider, and ultimately her killer. Gripping, detailed, earthy and poignant writing.
ReplyDeletePlease forgive me if I suggest either his or her account should be italicized.
I really liked the way you did this from both peoples perspective, it drew me in much more than if it had only been one person speaking.
ReplyDeleteThank you to all - Italics are a good recommendation thanks Old Egg! Jae ..
ReplyDeleteWow, this was powerful. Nice writing!
ReplyDeletemine is here - http://panopticulated.blogspot.com/2010/09/wait-sunday-scribblings.html
Thanks Susannah..Jae
ReplyDeleteInteresting take on the prompt. I love the whole piece, but especially the third paragraph. Powerful and it gripped my attention.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mia..Jae
ReplyDeleteThis took me guessing lots or different roads, I found it a bit scary guessing where.
ReplyDeleteSorry I am late getting around this week, i am not participating just reading. I do so like your style of writing.
Thanks Linda - Your visit is welcome at any time - always nice to hear from you..A break is never a bad idea..helps you think of new things..Jae :)
ReplyDeleteThis is interesting...tickles your mind and i liked the way you wrote it from both's perspective... Keep Blogging.
ReplyDeleteCheers!
Nairobi
Thank you Nairobi..jae :)
ReplyDelete