Coming Back As We Are

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard.
Oh, take me back to the start.
-"The Scientist" by Coldplay

Sometimes, I like to write little inconsequential pieces that relate in no way to my current book. This would be one. :)

"If there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I like summer."
The dawning sun was like a warrior's golden shield in the crisp blue summer sky. Lizbeth stretched her tight limbs like a cat, arching her back and reaching her arms as if to grab at something high off above.

"Dorian," she asked rolling her neck from side to side and yawning softly, "do you think it will be a good one?" she dropped sleepily back in bed, hair tousled about her curved shoulders and intermingling with the cotton ruffles of her nightgown. 

"I can't see why not," Dorian replied, straightening the collar of the shirt he'd been buttoning without much thought. "But then again, summers have a way of turning out different than you imagined."

"I guess everything does that." She was brushing her hair now, combing away the tangled remains of dreams along with the knots from her restless sleep. "All the same, I do hope it's a good one. Especially after this dreaded winter." Lizbeth pulled a ribbon from the drawer beneath the vanity and tied off the braid she'd been weaving, twisting the thing up into a bun and stabbing it in place with one rather large hairpin. 

"Don't talk about the winter." Dorian's voice was suddenly cool, and the clip-clip of his shoes on the wood-panelled floor sounded like a scolding as he walked to the wardrobe and hung his pajamas.

"I wish it'd never happened," Lizbeth whispered tentatively, appealing to the man's gentler nature. Her eyes were calculating the results of her words, and for a moment she caught the waver of remorse flicker on her partner's face. 
"Come here, my love." He enfolded her in his warm arms, protective against the hurt of the cold season's memories. They stood in silence for a few long seconds then he pulled away, holding her at arms length and getting a good look.

"Lizbeth," he took a deep breath. "It had to happen. Someday we'll understand why . . . then again, perhaps we won't. But it happened, it's over, and we're here now, together. That's all that matters anymore." Dorian glanced away, biting his lip.

"But that's what worries me most, dear. We're not all here together. Somehow I know it will never be the same without her." The motherly instinct so suppressed in the past month or so overwhelmed Lizbeth once more, and she too gave her lips trouble by way of teeth. 

"You did the right thing."
"No, I don't think I did, my love."
"We can't change it now."
"I wish I could sometimes." Lizbeth's voice was a soft whisper.
"You can't."
"You're right. I can't." I was dejection that closed her eyes, and the two sighed in unison. Dorian walked to the window, pulling his wife with him.
"Look at the way the horizon glints off those buildings. See the pink, that beautiful hazy pink?"
"I see it . . ." Lizbeth was hesitant at what Dorian might be pulling.
"It's the beginning of a new day. And new beginnings mean wiped pasts." He was holding her hand tightly.
"Wiped pasts," she murmured, musing. "I like the sound of that." Her guilt was great, she was worried for her husband, but if there was truly a thing as wiped pasts, she would hold to it with the strength of a desert wind, and never let go. 
"Don't let the past change you, dear Lizbeth."
"It already has, dear Dorian."
"But don't lets be bitter, please?" It was his turn to plead with her.
"We are broken, Dorian. Nothing can change that." Lizbeth's eyes were such a dark contrast to the way they had been when she first woke that morning.
He bent and kissed her forehead with the tenderness of butterfly wings, tentative to spark her hurt again. "Broken doesn't have to be permanent."


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you, Squeaks! I appreciate your interest. :)

  2. Oh, I want to hear more of this story!


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