Saturday, 7th August 2010

She had left him with no choice.

Her pleading look intensified as his vice-like grip tightened around her neck. The skin there was turning purple now, and she felt the hand of her husband, her lover, there. Her eyes rolled backwards as she tried in vain to gasp a last time.

They had gotten married at 30, they were secure. Through thick and thin with each other, both husband and wife had gained the wisdom they sought. After having spent 40 long years together, fate saw to it that she broke her spine.
The paralysis devastated her; and he sacrificed everything to stay by her side.

She rode around in a little grey wheelchair, unable to move, unable to chew. All that was left was her ability to hum, and so he would hum tunes with her while she was awake. He played her songs on his keyboard, resorting to singing whenever arthritis set in. On rainy days, she liked to sit by the big glass window; the rain calmed her, it was like a veil that shielded her from the world.

As more time went by he felt it- the pull of death. Fatigue often left him weak and pale, even though he did his best to remain upbeat around her. His joints swelled up so he could fit his ring no more, but chose to remain silent about his condition for another 4 years.

The doctor had told him. He went to the hospital after the pain got unbearable. She was sleeping downstairs, tucked up cosily while the rain poured outside. He was so afraid she might see him whenever his bed was rolled past her door.
He was afraid to tell her, he couldn't. He, alone, knew what she needed, what she wanted, what songs she liked to listen to while sitting by the window. He had spent every day there since she was admitted, and couldn't bear the thought of leaving her behind. He knew it was coming to an end, his life, it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"No," he whispered, "I must tell her."

He chose a perfect day; the calming rain poured outside the huge glass window, no lightning in sight, no thunder to be heard. All there was, was the soft pattering of raindrops on the ledge. He brought a blood-red rose, snipped of thorns and trimmed of half its stalk. The light grew in her eyes as he presented it to her, thereafter planting a kiss upon her lips.
How beautiful, he thought, as he gazed at her lying sweetly on the bed. Pushing the bed towards the window, he took care not to drop the flower, and whispered into her ear the calming words she wished to hear.

Then, came the time to tell her.

The light in her eyes slowly dimmed as the words escaped from his mouth, his tongue flicking deftly as he spoke, of his greatest fear- that he would die first.
The thought of his lovely wife sitting and lying alone day after day was too agonising to bear, let alone comprehend.
He had to do it, it was now or never.

And so he reached out to her frail neck, "I'll see you again soon, my love."

The rose fell to the cold, hard floor as the light disappeared.