sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
Fifty-Fourth Entry
If I could remember it all, maybe it would hurt less.
So you're here and in sweatpants and ready for the night off? He said when I walked in, and I kissed him on the cheek, stressed and tired from work and ready for popcorn and television. I'm here, I answered, but probably not smiling, just there.
Why was tonight so different? The cold or the Christmas lights or the smell of wood, the feel of clear air? Why did he look at me that way while we were watching television and I had settled in and was becoming more relaxed, I was finally laughing and telling him about Oliver's painting of the toilet.
I love those kids, he said And I asked about Trinity's day at school. She gets picked on, he said and brought his thin arm around my shoulders. He does this without noticing every time he talks about that girl. She hates the other kids, she can't focus, I don't know what to do with her. She already takes more medicine than an eighty year old diabetic. His eyes stretched with stress.
Don't worry, she'll be fine, I answered, leaning into him. She always has been, and my boys will always be her friends. She has two girlfriends and when you are that age, that many girlfriends is enough. She'll do wonderfully, and in secondary school the boys will find her so attractive. I said it to tease him, to make him nervous about Trinity as a teenager. I laughed and he sat up straighter, laughing with me.
But then he saw me there and became reflective and I thought he would tell me more about his precious little girl. Instead he said, If you were her mother I would never worry, and I was uncomfortable because he said it in the strangest way possible. If I were her mother, she would be much less spoiled, I teased, hoping to release the tension in my shoulders and in my mind.
No, no, and Rev sat me up and looked at me and said, Why do you do this to everyone? And I didnt know what he was talking about. To everyone? I said and he started spilling his feelings to me.
Horrendous feelings, ones that made me tense and wonder and realize why he hated the things I did so much. He said he tried to protect me and to love me and to take care of my children as if they were his. He said he only married to clear his head of me, to make me duller to him. He said when it failed, he knew he would always be trapped with thoughts of me. He said he talked to Harry for me, even about Edward, that he convinced Harry not to kill Edward or to scold me at all. He said that when he saw me with each of the children, he imagined we were together and that when he touched me he always wanted more. He said that when I spoke to him about anything, my voice was always sensual, that I was always something he desired. He said that Harry knew of this love, that he had kept it a secret, and had trusted Rev with the loyalty that only Harry possesses. He said he had vented to Harry again and again about his love for me, and Harry was always saddened by it, that every time he mentioned it, Harry looked as if he was lost forever. He said that I was a burden for not knowing, that I should have known always. And then he looked at me, tears were in his eyes, and he lowered his face to my neck as if to kiss it.
I will love you until the day I die, he said. Even though I know there will never be a chance.
I stood up, crying. No, I said, there will never be a chance, and I left, running home, haunted by a confession that will do nothing but keep me miserable.
Rev will tell Harry of his confession in the morning.
So you're here and in sweatpants and ready for the night off? He said when I walked in, and I kissed him on the cheek, stressed and tired from work and ready for popcorn and television. I'm here, I answered, but probably not smiling, just there.
Why was tonight so different? The cold or the Christmas lights or the smell of wood, the feel of clear air? Why did he look at me that way while we were watching television and I had settled in and was becoming more relaxed, I was finally laughing and telling him about Oliver's painting of the toilet.
I love those kids, he said And I asked about Trinity's day at school. She gets picked on, he said and brought his thin arm around my shoulders. He does this without noticing every time he talks about that girl. She hates the other kids, she can't focus, I don't know what to do with her. She already takes more medicine than an eighty year old diabetic. His eyes stretched with stress.
Don't worry, she'll be fine, I answered, leaning into him. She always has been, and my boys will always be her friends. She has two girlfriends and when you are that age, that many girlfriends is enough. She'll do wonderfully, and in secondary school the boys will find her so attractive. I said it to tease him, to make him nervous about Trinity as a teenager. I laughed and he sat up straighter, laughing with me.
But then he saw me there and became reflective and I thought he would tell me more about his precious little girl. Instead he said, If you were her mother I would never worry, and I was uncomfortable because he said it in the strangest way possible. If I were her mother, she would be much less spoiled, I teased, hoping to release the tension in my shoulders and in my mind.
No, no, and Rev sat me up and looked at me and said, Why do you do this to everyone? And I didnt know what he was talking about. To everyone? I said and he started spilling his feelings to me.
Horrendous feelings, ones that made me tense and wonder and realize why he hated the things I did so much. He said he tried to protect me and to love me and to take care of my children as if they were his. He said he only married to clear his head of me, to make me duller to him. He said when it failed, he knew he would always be trapped with thoughts of me. He said he talked to Harry for me, even about Edward, that he convinced Harry not to kill Edward or to scold me at all. He said that when he saw me with each of the children, he imagined we were together and that when he touched me he always wanted more. He said that when I spoke to him about anything, my voice was always sensual, that I was always something he desired. He said that Harry knew of this love, that he had kept it a secret, and had trusted Rev with the loyalty that only Harry possesses. He said he had vented to Harry again and again about his love for me, and Harry was always saddened by it, that every time he mentioned it, Harry looked as if he was lost forever. He said that I was a burden for not knowing, that I should have known always. And then he looked at me, tears were in his eyes, and he lowered his face to my neck as if to kiss it.
I will love you until the day I die, he said. Even though I know there will never be a chance.
I stood up, crying. No, I said, there will never be a chance, and I left, running home, haunted by a confession that will do nothing but keep me miserable.
Rev will tell Harry of his confession in the morning.
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