|Memories of an Angel
Author: TabbyCat33098 PM
I stand in front of his grave, still unable to believe he is gone. I bring the tulips to my nose and inhale deeply, wanting to hold a piece of him in my darkest hours. And just like that, the memories come flooding back.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 1,536 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 12-09-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3081537
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I wrote this in about a day or say during school. It's angsty. I'm sorry. I think I was on an angst kick when I wrote this. Not much to say here, most of what I write goes on fanfiction . net. Um, check me out? I'm TabbyCat33098 there.
Reviews are loved. Forever.
Memories of an Angel
I stand in front of his grave, still unable to believe he is gone. There are flowers in my hands, his favorite tulips from the corner store a few blocks away. I bring the tulips to my nose and inhale deeply, wanting to hold a piece of him in my darkest hours. And just like that, the memories come flooding back.
A vase of blue tulips stood on the mantle, filling the house with their sweet aroma. The were replenished by him each time they started to wilt, and each winter, he would replace the live tulips with a vase of scented, plastic ones, a cheap replacement that was removed at the earliest opportunity. But it was a necessary falsehood. He couldn't stand it if the mantle was devoid of tulips.
I finally step forward, needing to do this, needing to find closure. I need to accept that I will never see him again, never hear his bright laugh again, never see his sweet smile again.
He scratched the back of sheepishly and smiled sheepishly. "Mind if I sit here?"
I looked up from my lunch and the book I was reading and examined the boy gesturing to my empty table. I shrugged in response, not really caring. None of my few friends shared my lunch period, so the table would either remain empty or fill with jocks or cheerleaders or members of some other clique. "Go ahead," I said, and returned to my book.
But he couldn't stay quiet. By the end of lunch, he had my name, email, and number, and I had a new friend.
Slowly, slowly, I pad forward, still holding the tulips to my nose. With the gentlest of movements, I place the flowers against the tombstone, as close to the center and as straight as I can. When I am satisfied, I let go and lean back, smiling as the flowers stay put.
"No, no, no!" he cried, grabbing the poster board out of my hand. We were in the same art class and had been assigned as partners for the current project.
I watched, amused, as he use a ruler to locate the exact center of the board, drew a straight line down the middle of the board that was perpendicular to the edges, and finally cut the board in half.
"There we go," he said in satisfaction. Then he noticed my gaze and looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I can get a bit OCD sometimes."
I just waved it away and laughed whenever his OCD tendencies made themselves known. To be honest, I thought it was adorable.
We were the only people who got an A* on our project.
I sink to my knees in the soft grass and sit on my heels, and rest my head in my hands. I let myself slouch into the ground, and let go of all my cares. The world fades away until the only things I am aware of are the tombstone in front of me, the soft grass beneath me, and the vast blue sky over me, encompassing the entire world and leading to a universe of possibilities.
He pulled me by the hand towards the pond, and when we reached the bank, he yanked me down to the soft, damp grass. I laughed as he leaned against my shoulder, licking his ice-cream to keep it from dripping onto his jeans. I licked at mine, too, and snuggled up next to him.
"Look at the sky," he said, sounding awed. "It's huge. It seems to go on forever, doesn't it?"
I made a noise of assent.
"It's like a giant, never-ending dome or something, except it doesn't close us in," he continued. "You could go to the moon, or touch the stars, or fly to another galaxy. There are so many possibilities. There's...a universe of possibilities."
I'm surprised to feel the tears staining my hands. I thought I had cried my eyes dry over the last two weeks, but these tears prove me wrong. After a second, I stop puzzling over the origin of the tears and simply let them flow. I feel a melancholy grip take hold of my heart as the tears tream down my face.
I vaguely feel someone places a hand on my shoulder, but I am too far gone to care. Sobs wrack through my body, but I hear them as though from a distance. I let go of everything that holds me, drop the tether binding me to the earth, and fly.
He grabbed me by the shoulder, whirled my around, and kissed me square on the lips, swallowing my surprised shriek.
"Hey," he said, hugging me tightly. I hugged him back, a warm smile settling unconsciously on my lips. Then he pulled away, dropped to one knee, and pulled out a small box, and I felt my breath leave me.
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
I squealed long and hard. "Yes!" I screamed, pulling him up and kissing him again. "Yes, I will marry you!" I laughed as he pulled me into his arms and spun me around, and I felt my feet leave the ground.
I felt, in that instant, like I was flying.
I fly for an indefinite time, losing myself in the memories and joy and times gone by. And then I feel myself falling, out of the endless sky, out of reach of the stars, out of the infinte univers. I fall back to Earth, back to myself, and I feel the weight of life settle on my chest again.
THe tears have stopped by now, and I am lying curled on my side with no knowledge of how I reached this position. I stay like this for a while longer, staring into space and ignoring the world.
I lay on my side in on the bathroom floor, cheek pressed against the cool bathtub. I stared into the white porcelain, ignoring the pounding on the door.
"Please, come out!" he begged. "I didn't mean it. Really! I was being stupid, you know how I am when I'm stupid. Don't do this, please!"
"I don't care!" I yelled back through my tears, voice cracking.
"Please," he said again, and I closed my eyes. He was silent for some time, and I thought he had left. But then he said, "When I was young, I used to have this stuffed polar bear. It was soft and white and fluffier than you could imagine..."
Despite myself, I lifted my head so I could hear him more clearly. He rambled on like that for the better part of an hour, and I drank in every word.
And then he said, almost half to himself, "You know, I don't think I've ever told you I love you."
An indefinite sadness settles over me like a blanket, and I know I will be unable to throw it off for several months at least. But it's okay. I know that he is an angel now, and I know we will be reunited some day. I can wait for that day; it will come.
I sit up straight, then stand up, feeling numb. A hand touches my elbow, but I shake it off absentmindedly. I hear a murmur of relief come from the owner of its owner, but I don't make the effort to place the sound.
I watched anxiously out the window, despite being unable to see anything in the pitch black night. Dinnertime had come and gone, but he hadn't come home yet. He wasn't picking up his phone either, and I was worried.
Then the phone rang, and I rushed to pick it up. "Thank God! I was so worried! Why didn't you call? Where are you?" THe frantic words left me in a breathless rush.
"Ma'am," came an unfamiliar voice, and the dread that had so briefly left me pooled in my stomach once more. Suddenly, I know what the man on the other end would say. "I regret to inform you that your husband met with a fatal accident. We request your presence at the hospital."
I dropped to the couch like a rock as all feeling left my body, "Yes," I replied faintly. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
I look at the tombstone one last time, almost lovingly tracing over his name with my eyes. The splash of blue of the tulips provodes a nice break in the monotony of the drab cemetery. My eyes linger on the grave for another moment, before I take in a deep breath, expelling all my sadness and pain and anger as I let it go.
Then, without a backward glance, I walk away.