Click. He lowers his arm, the t.v. blacker than the surrounding room. He sips his scotch, careful to keep it on the coaster. She hates when he leaves marks on the tables. He looks up at the walls, at the pictures of the two of them on holiday and honeymoon. God, she is as beautiful to him now as she was back then.
Click. He lowers his hand and tears fall from his cheek and shatter on his clenched fist. She couldn't deal with it. That fucking doctor, he thinks. He could have tried other things. Something, anything! Why did he give up on her problem? He was so cold and clinical about it. He destroyed her with those simple words: You cannot have children. All her plans shattered, gone, without possibility of getting them back. The family she always dreamed of died that day.
Click. He couldn't do anything for her after that. She wouldn't let him in anymore. Day after day, she receded further from him. Days turned to weeks and weeks into months, the divide grew deeper between them. He tried, lord knows he tried. He talked to specialists, therapists, councilors, but nothing worked. With tears in his eyes, he remembered the note she wrote for him the day she left him for good.
Click. He still had the note. It sat next to his now empty glass. He no longer needs to read it, the words were etched in his mind forever. 'My love, I give up. I cannot give you the family you want and for that I cannot be forgiven. I am sorry for everything, but most of all this. Goodbye.' The red stained note tore him asunder. His heart died that day and now the rest of him will follow. He sends his thoughts to his love, his heart; his reason for life. God he loves her. He would see her very soon. He raises his arm one final time, his eyes connecting with hers in the photo across from him.
Bang.
No comments:
Post a Comment