Forever and Always
Her fingertips ghosted over his chin, a silent reassurance. They were barely there but he could feel the coldness imprinted against his skin. She was so cold.
He took her fingers and pressed them against his lips, feeling her pulse throbbing. The warmth of his lips soaked her, seeping through her fingertips, filling her body up a trickle by trickle.
His eyes remained on the road, speeding along the roads to the nearest hospital.
His left hand fell onto her swollen stomach.
She would be ok.
They would be ok.
(Oh, the lies they told themselves.)
...
The hospital was glaringly bright.
White washed walls, white tiles and the sterile stench reminded him of death.
She was on the stretcher, her face drained off all colour.
He had never seen her so sick.
He held her right hand in his left, unwilling to let go.
"You will be alright," he assured her, again and again.
And they both know that his words were lies they had to hear.
The nurses wheel her into the operating theatre.
Her fingers slipped through his fingertips.
"I love you!" They croaked, as the doors slammed shut.
(For the very last time)
...
It wasn't fair.
It just wasn't fair.
The faces of the nurses and the doctor told him what he did not want to know.
He was numb inside, unable to process the words the doctor said.
Mallory.
She could not be-
Pain emerged from the depths of his soul, engulfing him in a poisonous mist.
The baby in his arms was still.
"Eva," he breathed out.
He held her to his heart, hot tears stinging his eyes.
It wasn't fair.
(Nothing was fair)
...
The television was on.
A woman was on the screen, her dark hair long and straight. She had queen like elegance to her that made people stop and stare.
Her lips were pressed tightly together as she tried not to smile.
She glared straight at the camera, a tinge of happiness seeping through the fierce mask she wore.
"Diaval," she dead panned. "Stop filming."
"Please, you like it," a man chuckled.
There was some fumbling and laughter as the woman lunged for the camera.
"Now you have to be filmed!" the same woman cheered, no longer shown in the picture.
The man-Diaval- is revealed. Like the previous woman, he had raven black hair. Unlike the woman, his eyes were rich black in colour instead of the piecing swirl of green and blue.
He rolled his eyes.
"My pretty self deserved to be filmed after all," he said smugly, puffing his chest out.
He was smacked by the woman.
"Mal! You're pregnant. The baby will learn from you!" He exclaimed in exaggerated disgust.
"Please. It's only three months. The 'baby' has barely started to form."
"You're no fun," Diaval pouted.
"I'm no fun?"
The image cut to black for a few long seconds.
Diaval re-emerged, his hair messed up, his lips a tad swollen.
"Am I fun now?" There was a teasing touch to her voice.
He nodded mutely.
Her laughter filled the room, a sound so warm and melodic.
The video faded to black and a new one started.
Maybe if he watched them again and again and again, she might be real.
He could feel her.
He could feel her feather light touches across his skin. He could feel his breath on his neck. He could feel her presence in the room, haunting him.
She was real.
She must be real.
(Who was he kidding?)
…..
Broken pieces of glass scattered across the floor.
A strong stench of alcohol lingered in the air.
The once white carpet was stained with red and brown.
Diaval took another swig of the whiskey, feeling it burn as it slid down his throat. He laughed. How cliché was he, drinking to drown his sorrows?
"Stop," Mallory held his hand, stopping him from taking another mouthful.
"You're not real," he hissed, jerking his arm away from her.
She looked at him, her eyes filled with inconsolable sorrow.
"You are not real," he croaked.
He reached out for her and she faded away.
She was not real.
He took a swig of whiskey.
He wished that it were all a dream.
(But reality is reality.)
….
Her pictures stared back at him.
He would do anything, everything to bring her back to life.
She haunted his dreams.
She was always running away from him and no matter how much he ran, she was always a fingertip away.
She was always out of his reach, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he begged.
And he always begged.
(She had always been a step ahead of him. Always.)
…
"Daddy." Aurora, their adopted daughter, tugged at his sleeve.
"Yes sweetie?" he forced a smile for her, for their daughter who lost so much.
"I miss mummy," she whispered, her huge innocent eyes sad. "Can we go and see her?"
He looked at Aurora and his remaining heart broke.
"Yes. Yes we can," he smiled. "Let's pick up her favourite flowers along the way, shall we?"
They bought her bouquet of blue forget-me-nots.
The cemetery was bright, the sun shining on the marble stones.
It was too cheerful a day.
It hurt to read the stone.
Mallory Faeline-Rave
1980-2014
Beloved daughter, wife and mother
Beside it was a smaller one.
Eva Faeline-Rae
2014-2014
He held back his tears, holding tightly onto Aurora's hand.
Aurora needed him.
"I miss mummy," she whispered. "And Eva, although…"
"Me too. Me too," his voice was strangled, a lone tear escaping.
(He will love them forever.)
…
He found a letter in her drawer.
Dear Diaval,
It must be the hormones that drove me to writing this.
I just want to tell you that I love you. Thank you for being here with me. As cheesy as it is, you are my sun, my moon and stars.
You are the greatest gift that I have received. You, Aurora and the baby inside of me. I don't know what I did to deserve all of this but I am so very grateful for it.
I am a difficult person to love and you are such an amazing man.
Thank you, for loving me. Thank you.
And I love you, with all my heart, with all my soul.
Forever and Always.
Yours,
Mallory.
His tears fell, soaking through the words.
He needed her.
He missed her.
He loved her.
…..
"How long will you stay with me?"
"Forever and always."