a little house
A little house stands there, with a little red door and a little black roof with little flowers on the windowsills and it's absolutely perfect.
He grins at her, waiting for her reaction; her whole face has lit up and her green eyes sparkle. "It's wonderful," she says, and looking at her, and the home in front of them, he couldn't agree more. He takes her hand, their wedding rings making a little clink when he does so, and gives it a squeeze.
He raises his other hand and a pair of silver keys on a keychain and dangling in between his index and middle finger. "It's ours."
##
It takes some time, but soon they stop referring to the house as one, and start calling it home. Rooms are painted and furniture is rearranged and house-warming parties take place. Seasons pass until the windows are shut and a fire is roaring and they're snuggled up on the couch, just holding hands.
Then she tells him.
"I'm pregnant."
He smiles and they spend the rest of the night dancing to soft music in the firelight.
##
The baby's room is a process and it strains financials. She is still teaching dance, but it will have to stop soon because the baby is due in seven months. It worries him, because the salary of his desk job is small and he wishes for a promotion. But he can't worry too much because of all the happiness filling up their little home.
They paint the baby's room white, gender neutral, and get a dresser and a cradle. All of their friends and family chip in. His parents bring a nice pale blue rug for the floor and his brother and sister-in-law bring diapers. Her brothers bring a stroller some clothes and a small amount of cash that allows both of their minds to rest at ease.
##
It seems like his prayers have been answered because five months before the baby he gets a promotion from his boss. He can barely contain his excitement and only does so to seem professional, but he and she both celebrate that night by going to dinner together. They laugh and smile the whole time. Everything is working as it should.
##
Mornings, she finds, are the best. She ambles down their one small flight of stairs in fuzzy slippers and nothing but a robe. He's already up with tea made for her and reading the paper, but takes the time to look up and ask if she got a good sleep. She always takes a sip of tea - made perfectly - before answering, almost always, "Yes."
He smiles and says, "Good" and she lets him go back to his paper. She makes breakfast for herself and then before he leaves gives him a long lingering kiss and hands him a hot meal for lunch.
"I have to go or I'll be late," he always jokes when she refuses to let him go. She always pouts and pokes him in the chest with her finger.
"If you must," she says, joining in, and he pecks her one last time goodbye before driving away from their little home.
She then makes sure the door is locked and gets dressed and gets the bus to take her to the school where she teaches. The kids in her first class are attentive and excited and she loves it.
Neither of them can understand how some people can't be morning people.
##
Nights are quiet and full of the sound of scratching pens on paper and the faint click of computer keys as they do their work and the buzz of music coming from their radio, sitting side by side on the couch. Neither usually say a word and simply enjoy the other's company, until one night the song they had their first dance to at their wedding comes on and tearfully smiling they get up and start dancing.
...when the world is closing in, and you can't breathe, may I love you...
##
One morning she has morning sickness that's even worse that usual and there's blood all over the sheets when she wakes up. Crying, she gets in the car and he takes her to the doctors.
After the test, the doctor doesn't say anything. Sympathy radiates from him and his lips are curved downwards and he doesn't have to say anything, because the grim silence speaks for itself.
They had lost the baby. She couldn't carry another child.
##
After weeks of procrastinating, they clear out the baby's room and sell everything. They can't bear to look at it and spend the extra money on things they know they'll use once and then it'll get shoved in their dusty attic.
##
They could adopt, she suggests. They talk about it, but deep down it seems wrong. Because the child wouldn't have come out of the union of both of them, wouldn't share their DNA. Because it wouldn't make up for the child they had almost had. And somehow the talking slips into whispers and the whispers turns into no one even breathes it.
##
Budget cuts come along and she gets fired. The school board says that dancing isn't necessary for the learning curriculum. He does his best to cheer her up by buying new flowers for the windowsills. She smiles half-heartedly at his efforts, but it doesn't work.
Funny, how if the baby had come around this time she would have had to stay home. But now she hates being the little home all day and is constantly searching for something to do.
##
Quickly though, she finds a new job, teaching at a dance studio. They start smiling more often. He gets a large bonus and they go on a nice vacation that year. The wounds are slowly healing, and they both content themselves with that fact. She starts humming while she works, and it's a hopeful tune. Summer arrives and they spend their breaks trying to keep cool.
For his birthday, she gets him a puppy, and finally the wound has turned into a fading scar because when she sees his face light up she knows that they'll be fine.
##
War comes as winter blows in, and it's something he feels he has to participate in. He has a duty to his country - his father had been a soldier and he should be one too. She begs him not to go. He tells her that he'll be back before she knows it, before she can say "Ace".
##
"Ace, Ace, Ace, Ace, Ace..."
##
The letters arrive with international stamps and she holds them close to her heart. She thanks God that she has the ever-growing puppy to keep her sane.
##
The puppy is hit by a car. It doesn't make it. And she's not sure if either of them will.
##
One day, the letters stop and an official looking man comes. His down-hearted expression says it all.
##
A little house stands there, with a battered little red door and a dirty little black roof and little wilted flowers on the windowsills and it's absolutely broken.
She weeps inside, waiting for anything; her whole face is tear-streaked and her green eyes are fractured. "It's horrible," she says, and looking at his photograph, and the empty house she lives in, she couldn't agree more. She looks at her hand, and her wedding ring, and her eyes harden.
She takes off the ring and hurls it at a window and the glass shatters into a million pieces. "It's my life."