III
Closing the door behind Colby as she exited the condo, he slumped against the wall. His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on, no doubt triggered by the stress of their earlier conversation and the emotions it had stirred.
His vision was blurred. His eyes hurt. The left side of his head had begun to pulsate. He felt nauseous. He was beginning to sweat and it was too damn bright in the room. Stumbling towards the bedroom, he fumbled inside the dresser and pulled out his migraine medication, removing two small tablets of rizatriptan from the blister pack. He then moved to the kitchen, placed the tablets on the counter and filled a cup with water, placing the cup next to his pills. A trembling hand lifted the pills to his lips. The other hand, also trembling, followed the movement with the cup. He swallowed, slammed the cup back to the counter and then began to stumble around, turning off lights and closing blinds before he flopped down on his sofa.
When Sara was with him, she used to lie him down, bring him his medication and his water and go about darkening the room for him. Then, she would gently lift his head and sit, placing his head back in her lap. She would let her cold fingers sift through his sweaty hair for awhile, pushing it from his forehead so that she could place a cool cloth to his brow. Her fingers would move to his temples, rubbing in soft, soothing circles, alleviating some of the pain. Every so often he would feel her press her warm lips to the small space of skin above the cloth, over the droplets of perspiration on his hairline.
Sara was the best remedy for his migraines. He missed her calm, low tones, the gentle press of her fingers, her warm lips, the comfort of her lap. That remedy was taken from him, and to add salt to the wound, since Sara had left him, his migraines had increased, exponentially. From stress he knew, emotional stress and a failure to exercise, not to forget the lack of a proper diet as well, but mostly from stress, the stress of living without her. Sara, the remedy. Sara, the prevention. Sara…
Lying back and closing his eyes, he let himself think about her soothing motions until he was almost able to feel them, her middle fingers pressing in on his temples, her index and ring fingers pressing lightly on either side, the soothing circles, her soft voice, her scent, her lips, her compassion, not only in this, but in all things. She was the best remedy for everything, one he'd let in too late and lost too early. Twelve years, only twelve years.
He let himself drift into thoughts of their first meeting. She had strolled into his seminar, young, confident and slightly cocky. As she entered, moving hurriedly, but also with grace, he'd found himself noticing her above all others. Dressed in slacks and a sleeveless blouse, she had let her clothing accentuate her exquisite features, the slim slacks displaying the curve that led to her wonderfully long legs, the blouse revealing her beautiful, delicate shoulders. Her hair had been tied back into a ponytail, exposing her lovely neck. He'd felt an immediate pull to her, the stirrings of attraction.
Seated before him, she'd listened to him speak, her brown eyes bright and beautiful, her head cocked slightly to the side, a pursed smile he could not read on her lips. Then, she'd aimed a barrage of questions at him, one after another, challenging him and drawing his attention to her further. Soon it had seemed like they were the only two in the room, engaged in some sort of peculiar dance, two boxers sparring in a ring, exchanging jabs from afar, circling, but not quite closing in. Then, for some reason, she had abandoned the questions on entomology and began stumbling through questions on anthropology. She had faltered, her questions not quite so challenging, but thought up and blurted out quickly, he could tell. Her shy smile had told him as much and he'd been charmed. He was further charmed when she left him with a dazzling smile that revealed an endearing gap between her front teeth. The sight had caused an ache in him he could not categorize. Lord help him if he hadn't already begun to fall in love with her. Lord help him if he hadn't already begun to live in denial.
After an early seminar in which they both had attended the following day, he had found himself strolling San Francisco with her, answering more questions. He'd enjoyed responding to her inquiries and listening to her insight. He'd enjoyed being with her and getting to know her, so much so that they'd walked until his feet hurt, and then, they'd walked some more. A damp, overcast day, he'd been delighted to discover how her hair, let down that day, curled and frizzed in the moisture. When she had tried to comb it down with her fingers, and when she'd tucked errant curls behind her ear, he'd wanted to grasp her wrist, stop her, and stare at her in her loveliness, whispering of how enchanted he was by the sight of her hair altering into a mess of endearing tangles. He hadn't wanted that afternoon to end.
It did end though. It had to, and not as he'd secretly wanted. Though he had been attracted to her, very attracted, and she, he believed, to him, she was so young and he had not been in a place where he was ready to begin a romantic relationship with a woman in another city. He had befriended her instead, offering her a trust that he had placed in very few, and none so soon. Thinking back, he couldn't help but regret not taking that leap, having those years with her, battling everything they battled through together. Perhaps they hadn't been ready. Perhaps the strength of what they'd had would not have been so strong had they not had to fight so hard for it. Perhaps all of the yearning, and the patience, and the waiting and watching the other still wait had demonstrated how important it was to both of them. Perhaps the holding onto hope despite everything that had occurred between them, and the commitment to one day finding it was what had allowed it to become so great, but perhaps…perhaps…perhaps, they would have found it anyway.
She was the love of his life. She'd burrowed her way into him, stolen his heart, captured his soul and merged with him, filling every hole he'd ever had inside of him. It happened without him realizing. Years of harboring feelings for her had left him yearning for a life with her. Years of denial had him seeking his life elsewhere, ignoring what was obvious to her and only admitting to it later when it had become too much and when he'd hoped vocalizing what he'd then realized would help to rid him of the need that had threatened to consume him. Even before they were together, she'd shown him how to live again, and he'd found himself more open to life and to laughter, to dinner and dating and anything but taking a real chance with her. It would cost too much to allow himself to be open to the idea of her. It had taken him a long time to trust in it, to allow himself to become vulnerable to her, to take what she'd offered. It had been wonderful, for years it had been wonderful. For twelve years it had been wonderful, but that was all they had together, twelve years, twelve years of marriage, and then, they'd lost it and he'd lost her. Fourteen months ago, she had walked out the door and out of his life, crippling him. As it turned out, it was a very high price to pay.
Still slightly nauseous, his head still hurting and now filled with the music of that damn concerto of his dreams, he began to feel tired. Shifting on the sofa to a more comfortable position, he let himself drift to the tender, heartbreaking music, lulling him to another time.
Costa Rica. Finding her. Watching her from behind. Nervous and swallowing the lump in his throat. Waiting. Holding his breath, not only in anxious anticipation, but in seeing her beautiful form once again. Watching her camera lower. Seeing her turn. The shock. The quirk of her small smile. The emotions threatening to spill over her features, good emotions, ones that let him know she still loved him, still wanted him and perhaps, still needed him. Moving to her, taking her in his arms, kissing her…holding her. Explaining to her. Sharing with her. Discovering with her. Marrying her. Curling up with her in their bed at the station each night, making love to her and again, holding her tightly in his embrace. Finding peace. She had led him back to the rainforest.