like aging blackbirds
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"I don't love you anymore," Audrey Grigio says to her husband as she takes another sip of red wine. Her teeth were stained red like blood trickling down a Corpse's chin, fresh from a kill.
It's close to midnight, curfew has long passed. John and Audrey Grigio are sitting in their living room, taking a breather from their broken world. The plague is still fresh and running wild.
Colonel John Grigio doesn't know why but his heart doesn't hurt at his wife's statement. It shouldn't be this way. He should have felt something but his chest feels numb. It's like he knew it in a long-run. It's like he's prepared himself before they came here. He should feel heartbroken. This is his wife who's telling him she doesn't love him. The same woman he serenaded with his music skills. He took her dancing. He fell in love with her, married her, build a home with her, had a child with her, killed Corpses with her. Her her her.
"You're drunk," John ends up telling Audrey.
She doesn't say anything but John knows it takes more than just a few glasses of wine to intoxicate his wife.
"I love you." Audrey says to her husband and this makes him raise an eyebrow. "I love you and Julie. But I'm not in love with you, John."
"What you're saying is the same thing,"
"No, there's a difference."
John doesn't say anything but something catches his eye; his wife is in a dress again – she looks beautiful. But he can't help but think it's impractical. Especially since the majority of the population wears grey one-piece suits like plumbers and sturdy boots caked in mud and dog shit. In a place like this, dresses weren't needed.
"The difference between love and being in love is," Audrey continues like John had asked her to. John knows his wife, he knows he can't stop her after she's made up her mind. It's concrete. Audrey will stick to her words even if she's wrong and she knows it because she's a woman who speaks her mind. "The difference is, you can almost always love anything, even if it's not alive. But you can't be in love with that something that won't be in love with you back."
Her rambles sound slurred and drunk but she's getting somewhere.
The memory of the potted plant flashes in John's head. The spaceship like living room; white and neat and in-order. Then there was this ugly plant sticking out like a sore thumb; green leaves, dull stems and brown pot.
Audrey continues, "You could be like Julie, young and carefree, loving her stuffed horse. You can be like me and this wine; inseparable. You can be like Rossy, old and wise, loving his books and the characters in it." She tells him. "But you can't be in love with a stuffed horse because you'll grown-out of it. You can't be in love a bottle of wine because once it's empty, it's useless. And you can't be in love with paper and fictional characters because they can never convey your feelings."
He tries to understand her as he takes her all in – golden hair that shined like the sun and eyes as calm and deep as the ocean. But he can't. He doesn't.
"Do you understand, John? You can love so many things. You really can. But being in love, it's different. You can love something so many times in your life but it's always just being in love with one person that means the world. Even if you're conflicted, even if there's a struggle. You know for sure when you're in love with someone. There's no doubt or hesitation."
The air feels thick. Her words – it feels well-rehearsed and scripted. As if the lines had been running through Audrey's head again and again and again like a mantra. How long has she had these thoughts?
She takes a deep breath. "The John I know has died. He's long gone. You're not the same man I married – You're hard and distant. You've changed."
"Is change a bad thing?" John asks.
Audrey looks away. "Sometimes," She says softly into her glass of wine.
He doesn't hesitate to say it. "I don't understand," John whispers but he knows the damage can't be erased.
Audrey lets out a laugh, it's dry and humourless. "Don't you get it?" She asks. "It's not enough! You, Julie, this box we call home, it's not enough."
"We're finally safe, we've made it this far and you just want to throw it all away?!" John can't help but yell. His fists are clenched and his teeth are grinding hard as he spoke.
Audrey puts down the glass of wine she's been holding. It's empty. Just like the bottle. Just like her heart. Just like him.
Shaking her head, she says, "We're not living anymore, John! We're surviving!"
Of course, they're surviving. It's what they're supposed to do. He should know better than anyone else in these walls, he's the leader of the human survivors.
"You think I don't know that?!" John snaps, eyebrows furrowed. "You think I don't know we're surviving? Who do you think is helping us accomplish these things – getting medicine, gathering men, building the wall? Who?!"
"That's not the point!" Audrey yells at him. "Living and surviving – there's a difference!"
It's no good, they can't keep this fight a secret anymore. They've been talking in high volumes all this time. Julie's probably heard them. Heck, the whole neighbourhood has probably heard them.
Audrey whispers the next line lowly, as if she doesn't want anyone else to hear it. As if she's saying it to herself. "And I can't take it anymore."
John stares at his wife. "What do you want to do?"
There's a pause.
"I want to see Julie one last time," she tells him. "Then I'm going to take a walk. And I'm never coming back."
John presses his lips together in a thin line, frowning. He's unmoved.
Audrey stands up, dusts the invisible dust off her dress and adds one more comment. "Don't stop me, John. Don't you dare stop me."
John closes his eyes. "I won't,"
She reaches out and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you,"
That's the last conversation he has with his wife. That's the last time he sees her. After Audrey spends what seemed like a few minutes staring at Julie, their one and only daughter, Audrey puts on her shoes and walks out of the house. She walks out of City Stadium, the box they call a safe haven. She walks out of this family – their lives – like it was nothing.
And perhaps, John can't help but think, it was because they were nothing to begin with.
No.
No.
Julie wasn't nothing. She was something. She was someone, a person, his daughter. She was fiery and determined yet she was falling apart. And now, she has to fall deeper because he has to teach Julie how to say goodbye to not only her mother but also himself. Only, there's a difference between Audrey and him. Audrey passed her goodbye off as a message while he's going to show Julie he's saying goodbye little by little. He doesn't feel human anymore. He hasn't felt that way in a long time.
Julie has to say goodbye to a lot of people from now on and each time, there will be a difference.
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end
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Notes
This comes from the quote "Love can change us," and Colonel Grigio telling Julie "You are your mother," so I assume Audrey mirrors Julie a lot.
Another story I dug up from the tomb of fanfics I never published. I hope you enjoyed this.
– 5 January 2017