What An Opportunity


In Life on May 17, 2013 at 1:35 am

Oh she knew. She knew why she couldn’t sleep. She knew what that sound meant. The slow braking of an all-too-familiar vehicle. Slurred gratitude as steps proceeded up the drive. Fumbling keys as the caricature of him stumbled through the door frame.


His steps greeted the stairs much like his lips eventually met her cheek: heavy and over-stated to feign restraint. She lay with her eyes closed but sleep had not visited her bed.


The smell of his addiction filled the room as he undressed. His shirt landed on the table and his pants found the floor as he barely avoided the bed post.


He climbed into bed and rolled over to kiss her properly this time. He stopped abruptly. He always seem to forget that he shouldn’t lie down too quickly.


A hastened rush to the bathroom and the expulsion of all that he consumed followed. She knew it would happen. She knew him too well. Hope is beautiful. if only in that it shows us the beauty in things we might otherwise let be.


That belief drove her to stay. His disregarded abstinence was but a faint whisper when he was her love. He brought a feverish passion to all that he pursued and the most magnificent of his talents was his ability to adore her. That light would gleam in his green eyes as his lips revealed each deliciously wicked notion.


God, how long ago was that? She tried to keep herself busy. She took on more projects at work and her friends kept her company. She knew where he would be. She also knew that the ghost of who they were would catch up with her if she stopped moving.


Ambition? Disregarded. She didn’t know when he lost it but he did. The light flickered, and like the innocence of youth, was gone.


They had tried. She had tried. He had continued through the motions. His affliction was the bottle. Her affliction was the unwavering desire to glimpse again, just for one moment, that spectacular vision of their lives together. Unbridled hope  may be the most profound, and utterly devastating, condition known to the human heart.


She knew the destructive power of fleeting hope. She also knew he was not her husband. Not anymore. She moved slowly as the sounds from the bathroom subsided and only mumbling could be heard. She avoided the mirror as she dressed. She knew one glance towards the light would fill her with that unspeakable feeling of pride in being his recovery.


But life is beautiful. It provides infinitesimal occasions wherein the purpose of our existence is firmly within our grasp to proceed as we wish.


You could say she stopped loving him. Some would argue that she never loved him more.


He lay under the toilet as she closed the front door behind her. His murmurs fell on deaf ears:


Will you still love me?

Will you still love me?

I know you will.

I know you will.



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