in this hour of what she would like to call betrayal she can only feel vast emptiness
she does not care anymore
the sea is sounding
she is speaking to him with words he thought she could not say
'i don't love you'
the sea rests
a whore hums
the way her ancestors would
hum for rain
or the harvest
she hums for warmth
shelter from the rain
and the hungry eyes of passing people
a job is a job but
not during the holidays
On his first night home from the hospital, he offers to sleep on the fold away bed in the living room in order to have his wife keep the bed. He didn’t even feel comfortable in his own clothes, and he expected that the bed would be even worse.
He had barely slept that night, in that unfamiliar house that he doesn’t remember picking out or being in before this day. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped she slept better than he did, but by the tired look she had in the morning, he guessed that she didn’t get much sleep either.
It continued like this for a very long time, and while he was slowly remembering things like his child’s birthday and where they kept emergency candles, he didn’t remember anything resembling a memory and it drove him mad.
Not until the third month sleeping on the fold away did he remember anything. Perhaps he had been dreaming but he was certain that it was a memory, it just felt real.
His wife was there, but before she was his wife and before they lived in this house—she was lying next to him, facing him, naked as a babe, and she was laughing. Nothing cruel or mocking, but full-hearted, joyous laughter at something he had said. He did not remember what he had told her, but he wished he did.
The next night, he slipped in between the covers and lay next to her while she was sleeping, and was amazed at how he ever slept on that fold away without her at his side.
Standing in the doorway, they wave to their daughter as her friend’s mother comes to pick her up for a birthday party. He wants nothing more than to go back to watching the game, but the look on his wife’s face scares him and causes him to have…flashbacks.
"Oh no," he says, distancing himself from her with his arm out as if she would attack him, "Don’t do that—"
"Do what?" she doesn’t stop.
"That," he gestures wildly and vaguely, “The last time you did that, that happened,” he gestures to the car, now driving off in the horizon, obviously referring to their child.
"Hmm? Oh no, that was your fault." she responds casually.
Whilst he is distracted with defending himself and his point, she carefully guides him back inside, not wanting him to catch a cold in this weather.
The thing he remembers most was how fast his heart seemed to be beating against his chest, after that it was her smooth skin and her soft voice. If they had been in her apartment, she would have stayed quiet as a mouse, he suspects, because she had previously told him that she could hear any and every loud noise from upstairs, but since they were in his flat, and he lived right above her, she let her voice palpitate between tones and volumes, only to be muffled whenever she kissed him
It had never occurred to him that this wasn’t her first time, nor was it his either, but it definitely surprised him, considering how strict she was back when they were teenagers, and how stern her parents were, and especially how she was when they first started seeing each other—they would never get beyond kissing before she would shyly push him away and shake her head.
Now it’s usually her who initiates these things, usually by just a quick kiss to his cheek or nose what quickly gets out of hand, and say what you want, he swears to God that she plans these things out. He always accuses her of manipulating him afterwards and she just hums and distracts him in the best of ways, but sometimes she kicks him off the bed.
He doesn’t like getting kicked off his own bed.
She had been talking about how all her stuff is now located in his flat and how ridiculous it seemed because now that her parents were visiting she would have to move it all back in a haste because it was bad enough that she lived alone, but if they found that she spent more time upstairs than in her own apartment, they’d surely skin him.
"It’s a bit silly; how much they worry about me dating around," she touched his hand as he was thinking about how sad and empty his glass looked, "But I think I’ve found someone to settle down with."
He realised she was talking about him.
This made him nervous—he knew for a fact that if he didn’t say anything, she would make him help her move all her things back downstairs and his usual excuse of ‘oh my back’s hurting again’ wouldn’t work. He wasn’t sure about this at all.
She opened another bottle of Guinness
Still, he quite liked her company and she always smelled nice and was a very good friend to him over the years; it helped that she was pretty.
He took a long drink.
he is laying naked on top of me and clearly my most important mission in life is to kiss and kiss him until my lips bruise, and he doesn’t mind one bit.
It’s morning, and his
pillow personal heater cuddle buddy ”significant other” is not next to him. She is above him, having woken him up with a kiss to the cheek, she smiles down at his grumpy face and starts talking—probably something about breakfast, he’s not sure, all this time together and his Spanish hasn’t gotten any better.
She urges him out of bed, sending him off to bathe and then dress in his nicest clothes as if they were attending mass this morning, which he knew they weren’t because it wasn’t Sunday. He complains the whole way to the washing room, and all the way back to
her their bed. He continues complaining when she helps comb his hair and takes out the darn tangles, but he lets her do it because she is gentle , and he is very afraid of her. He notes that she too looks very nice, and when he comments on it, she merely smiles and says thank you.
Now she’s tugging him out the door and oh what, they are headed towards the church, and suddenly there is a priest and he is reciting things, and looking towards him as if he expects him to say something, and Arthur’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but he thinks he might be getting married.