Wait For Better Weather
Dearest forgetful,
Here are my guilty hands,
And you take them across your eyes,
They help you remember
Your nighttimes are often blank and you find yourself sullenly wishing that you could develop sudden insomnia. The nights you used to spend wide awake brooding over wine or black coffee somehow seem less painful.
You think anything could be less painful.
Your nightmares are full of nothing but endless white, like static or white noise, and you keep waiting for the real horror to begin, for the part of the dream that the sense of foreboding tells you is coming.
Only it never arrives and you wonder how absolutely nothing can be the most terrifying thing you have ever experienced. You can't quite figure out if you are waiting for something to happen or it's just that there is nothing left to happen.
And like every cliché you'd ever seen in films or read in books you wake up suddenly, drenched in a cold sweat with a strangled scream stuck in your throat.
Your husband notices, sometimes you must wake him with your nightmares because you come back to reality with him staring down at you. The pair of you had only talked superficially about your night time terrors. He would fetch you a sleeping pill or pull you flush against his body.
It's enough, enough of a comfort but you don't think you want any more from him. There is something you don't understand and you want to comprehend it all on your own. Sometimes you look at Tony while he works or eats and you think 'husband, husband, my husband.' over and over again and it does not seem strange that you have to remind yourself.
You like being married, you like having a handsome man by your side who adores you, who you can lean on and banter with. So maybe he doesn't always fulfil you but you are comfortable with that, like that, in a way you still have a big chunk of your soul that is yours alone.
And while you are happy that your marriage is all you would want it to be sometimes it still seems as if something else is still seriously wrong. But with enough expensive red wine, enough that you can no longer taste the hint of forest berries that the bottle tells you that you should be experiencing, you can forget it.
But in the morning it is not your hangover that makes you feel sick. It is the large aching cavity somewhere deep in your chest. One morning you had thrown a wine glass into the nearest wall because you can find no logical reason for your emptiness. You are tempted to reach for the bottle of Jack Daniels that gathers dust in the back of a kitchen cupboard because it will make you forget for longer on those darkest, loneliest nights. But something stops you before your fingertips can reach the cool glass. It is something that feels close to betrayal, like you have somehow forgotten about something so precious and important that it meant your life was over without it.
Most of the time you told yourself you was being silly, that you could never forget something that big. But still, you had always thought your life was meant to be more than this.
"Let's go out sweetheart." Tony approaches her from behind and pulls her so that her weight was resting against his chest. She frowns briefly knowing that he can't see her face and scolds herself for not realising that he had entered the office. For a long moment she holds herself stiffly against him and Tony must notice because his hands start to run soothingly up and down her arms before he takes her hands and squeezes them gently.
"We could go to that new restaurant in town, the one with all the good reviews." His voice is like gravel against the softness of her dark hair and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck.
Through the half closed blinds they can see their workforce start to filter back to their machines after a probably too long lunch break. Carla grimaces at the sight of Sean still chewing while he cackles with his mouth wide open and focused enough that she was able to relax against the solidness of her husband.
She lets a low playful groan reverberate in the back of her throat and twists in Tony's grip so that she could face him. "Oh you mean the ridiculously expensive French place? I'm really not in the mood for that much bloody pretentiousness. Besides we have far too much work to do."
For a moment he actually pouts but the expression quickly morphs into something full of smirking charm. "You are the boss darling, if anyone can do what they want not what they have to do it is you."
It is the closest she has ever heard him to purring and she throws her head back with laughter before punching him lightly on her shoulder. "And don't you ever forget it." She tells him sternly. "But seriously Tony, I'm tired. I just want to go home, drink some wine and sleep."
She had not mentioned it to anyone but she had not been sleeping well lately. Ever since she had started to fall into the mundane nature of married life her night time routine had been fragmented at best. She had hid the dark shadows under her eyes with make-up and felt reassured that there was no one to question if there was anything wrong when she did not quite understand herself.
"Your wish is my command love." He informed her softy, fingers threading into the waves of her hair. He does not comment directly but Carla can tell he is concerned by her admitting to being fatigued. She is glad that he does not push her on the issue, if felt too personal, it was private.
Silently he kisses her, eyes watching her darkly as he leans closer. She grips his bicep and loses herself in her husband's passion, lets him communicate his love and worry with the warmth of his lips and tongue.
They break apart with a gasp because his fervour steals the air from her lungs and leaves her feeling slightly dizzy. She rests her forehead against his and feels his hand softly cup her jaw.
"I just want you to be happy Carla." He says lips faintly brushing against hers as he speaks.
Carla finds herself nodding automatically placing her hand over her husbands. She was surprised that he would question her happiness. Of course she was happy. It was something she had never really thought about. She had been married for just under a year, her business was going to strength to strength and she had no obvious reason to be unhappy. Her life was fine, everything was fine.
At home Carla quickly shreds her tight trousers and silk blouse before disappearing into the bathroom. The drive home had been exceptionally long and silent bar the radio. She found herself watching her husband out of the corner of her eye with her temple resting against the coolness of the window pane.
There was something about his eyes that she could not help but notice. His gaze was focused on the road as he drove so she could watch him unnoticed. She had felt so uneasy sitting in the passenger seat, so out of control and it occurred to her that she had never told Tony how she liked to always be the one in the driving seat.
It had never been easy for her to surrender control to someone else and sitting there with nothing to do gave her more time to think than she would have liked.
It was dusk when they had arrived at her home, the sun dropping and a new breeze drifted through the purple haze of the sky. Tony had held the door open for her and his hand hovered had over the small of her back as they entered the building.
"Corkscrew is in the dishwasher." She called over the low rumbled of warm water filling the bathtub. The nights of empty dreams and disjointed sleep were catching up with her and she felt floppy and a little numb.
She sat on the side of the bath and shook her head as she released her hair from the artfully messy bun so the ends tickled the naked skin of her shoulders. The flow of the water was almost hypnotising, clear and fast while the rising steam was comfortingly warm. It made her think of heavy rain, and that confused her because the weather had been unusually dry and warm lately.
But rain, rain seemed to mean something she didn't understand. She could feel it in her every nerve, in the gnawing sense of there was something important about the rain.
Someone in the rain?
Carla abruptly stopped thinking; she dropped her head and massaged her temples. She could feel a headache forming and there was a new tightness in her skull.
She really needed a drink.
She saunters back to the living room contemplating the state of her pedicure and for a second time in a matter of a few hours she misses Tony standing behind her.
She jumps and lets out a little startled scream when the floor creaks behind her. Tony simply stands still, two glasses of dark wine in his hands, an expression that was close to sheepishness but not quite stretched across his features.
"Fuck! What the hell do you think you are doing?"
There was something about his expression that made her equally nervous and angry. She felt venerable under his gaze while she was surprised and dressed only in her silk underwear.
"Just bringing you a drink love." He informs her as if he had not scared her at all.
He passed her the glass and kissed her forehead as he wondered back towards the kitchen.
Carla accepted the glass but a sense of uneasiness lingered. She had heard the wine being poured almost straight after she entered the bathroom so it seemed odd that he would chose to bring her a drink after all this time. And he had been standing just outside the bathroom door. A door that she had not shut simply pushed so that it was half closed. It was strange that she had not noticed his presence, or felt him watching her.
She picked up a thin blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders feeling a new chill in the air.
She was being silly.
She was overly tired and being silly.
She was not some stupid little girl and the uneasy emptiness she felt was nothing. She just needed a drink and she had one in her hand. Things were fine, things were more than fine.
Half of the blood red liquid had been drunk before she set the glass down. The alcohol was warm and familiar as it travelled down her throat and was defiantly what she needed.
Tony was watching her again, looking at her with a sense of awe that made her feel distinctly more comfortable and a little excited. She understood his desire, his hunger for her body. She had always loved the thrill of being able to render a man speechless with just a sultry look. It gave her power and purpose.
Her husband worshiped her and treated her like royalty and that was all she had ever hoped to dream about in a lover.
Carla approached Tony like a predator trapping its next meal. She smirked as he swallowed and watched the exaggerated swing of her hips. When she reached him she pressed her body against his so that her breasts were firmly against his chest and toyed with his belt buckle.
"Why don't you make me happy Tony." She purred pleased with the hunger in his eyes.
Immediately his hands grasped her hips tightly, anchoring her body to his while his mouth descended upon the sensitive skin of her neck.
"It's all I've ever wanted darling." He whispered into her skin only she misses the words as her body starts to hum with the effect of the wine and his firm touch.