Happy (belated) Birthday, Pixiedust1978
. . . . . . . . .
She loved him so much she thought she would die. "I'll expire," she'd say as she traced her fingers along the edge of his hip, tracing a line of scars from the war. "As we lie here in the sun on this bed I'll die. What would you do then."
"Leave your body and not come back," he'd say, all practicality. "It's not like anyone can connect this place to us."
He'd been married right after it was peaceful again, right after he'd been cleared of all charges. War time atrocities dismissed. Money, influence, power: his family still had them and if their stock had fallen a little because they'd been on the wrong side, well, they'd played both ends against the middle well enough to come out as forgiven. As virtuous.
Not as heroes, not like she was. No one loved them. There were no parades.
"Fuck parades," he'd said to her. "I'm not in prison."
Where he was was in government, doing vague and never discussed things. Where he was was with his wife, his beautiful wife.
She'd get the papers of the society events and trace her fingers over the woman's cool, unblemished face, over her expensive clothes, over the man at her side, his hand on her arm.
"I didn't have a choice," he'd say. "That's how things work." And, "We have this."
Sometimes this wasn't enough. Was this love, she'd wonder, these stolen afternoons she couldn't tell anyone about. This carefully planned relationship. No risk. No danger. Was this was it was?
"I've had enough of danger," he'd say. "Haven't you?" He'd rest his hand on her scars and she'd nod. Sometimes all she wanted to do was lie here, in the sun, and never move again. Lie here with him. Let the rest of the world go.
She'd trace her fingers over the pictures. His wife didn't have scars. She was younger than they were. Unmarked. Unflawed.
Tea and biscuits and the warm sun. Just to lie there and drift off. Just to be peaceful forever. Just to be with him forever.
"I could die here, I'm so happy when I'm with you," she said. "What would you do then."
"Leave," he said, amused and sleepy as his eyes began to close, as he began to float away into sleep.
"Not if you died too," she murmured as she wrapped an arm around him and let herself luxuriate in the sun as it came into their little room, as it made a bright spot on their little bed.
