Jul 2, 2007
It seems that we’ve been at it for days but it has really only been all of a dull, grey, raining November afternoon. It is warm in the kitchen. First it is her turn and then I try. There seems to be no way to get ourselves out of this mess. The tears run down her face. I don’t know how I could ever have let this happen to us.
She is small and thin and I’ve always thought of her as physically too fragile. Her usually pale, oval face is now pink in the cheeks and the end of her nose. Her short black hair is mussed. Where her eyes are normally so clear and bright, they are tinged with red. Her lips are full, especially the lower lip but now they seem to be drawn thin in her determination. Once she has made up her mind that there is only one solution, there is little possibility of swaying her. I think she is a Taurus.
I approach her with my hands out, pleading. She steps back, bumping into the kitchen table. She crosses her arms across her breasts and turns her head. Her eyes show a mixture of love and reproach. Love and reproach.
Suddenly, she has her coat and the car keys in hand. She wraps her coat tightly about her body, shielding herself. I rub my eyes again but that only causes them to tear-up more. I should try to be more of a man.
She opens the door to leave. Outside, the day is perfect for this kind of thing. The trees are black in the rain which is coming down in droves. The wind gusts, stirring up the dead leaves on the sidewalk. A single dark car makes its lonely way up the street causing little waves to ride up and over the curb. She looks at me a final time. For a moment, she seems to smile and shake her head, then she turns. I can see her small figure moving quickly down the walk and gradually disappearing into the grey rain. I hear the car door. The engine catches and revs and then the headlamps come on shining their pale yellow halo on the house. The gears grind and the car bumps into reverse, backing unsteadily down the drive. She turns the vehicle into the street and jams it into first; it picks up speed and then… nothing. Solitude invades. I kick the door closed. It just keeps raining.
My Anna. My love. I will wait for you.
I hope she makes it to the grocery store before it closes.
I should wash the onions and flour off my hands before I make a mess all over the house.