Bird's Eye View
You hate him, and with good reasons too. You hate him for the fact that he never notices anything that he doesn't want to notice, which happens to be quite a great deal. You hate him for the fact that you notice more things than he does, and none of which are things you want to notice.
His eyes always lit up when the telephone on his desk rings. His gloved hand always shakes when he reaches out to answer it, while instinctively his other hand will push away whatever paperwork he was doing, putting the caller on his top priority. He knows, and you know, there is only one person who will call on his office phone.
His lips will always curl into a slight smile, and the most brilliant and sincere smile you have ever seen on his face, even after years of being his second, when he answers, speaking softly. Then slowly, you watch the smile fade from his face, his eyes growing empty as he realizes who the caller is talking about again. His free hand will begin to shuffle at the papers on his desk again, not that he plans to multi-task and work as he talks. The sound of the paper shuffling is only a distraction to him. Perhaps by doing so, he will not have to hear what is being said on the other side of the phone.
You notice his rage when he finally slams the phone down, and sits back heavily onto his chair, closing his eyes. You notice that when he opens them again, the edges always seem to shine slightly. You notice how he sits back upright again and gets back to work, glancing every once in a while at the phone, as if willing it to ring once more.
He always gets drunk at office parties when the major brings his girlfriend along. He sits alone in the corner, leaning against the wall and nurses drink after drink. Once in a while, the major will leave his girlfriend and makes his way towards him, slinging his arm casually over the broad shoulders and makes a joke or two. He will smile then, just something to reassure the major that he's alright. From your corner of the room, you can almost read the words off his lips. 'No, I'm fine. Go on, enjoy yourself. Don't leave her alone there; you know how some of these military people can be."
When you drive him back to his apartment later, he will barely be conscious, but still whispering a name fervently under his lips. It is during times like these you want to take your gun and shoot someone, knowing that the lieutenant colonel probably will not appreciate it too much.
And God saves you if it's not the only reason you haven't done so.
You strip him out of his boots and help to remove his stiff uniform. A card falls out, giving you the answers as to why he drank more than usual that day.
A wedding invitation
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Pain of Grace
There's only one rule at parties. He knows it, and you bet everyone else knows it, since they are keeping it almost religiously at what is supposed to be your wedding party.
Never not turn up for a party you are expected to go for, or everybody will spend the rest of the party talking about you.
You should be glad that he is not here. But your husband's many vain glances at the door are already beginning to wear down your patience.
You smile, and shake the hand of the visitor who just arrives, turning around just in time to catch the fallen look on your husband's face.
It's not him.
He's not here, but his presence is everywhere. From the look on the face of the man you love, to the whispered discussions about the one who did not even turn up for his best friend's wedding.
Finally, when the last guest leaves, he can remove the mask he puts up for everyone else. He changes out of his wedding suit, into a cotton shirt and a pair of flannel slacks, picking up the car keys on his way out of the door. You do not say anything, but he notices anyway, as he walks up to you and does what he is supposed to do. What he promise to do in his marriage vows.
He drops a light, chaste kiss against your lips and smiles, taking for granted that you will understand. You do, at least, you think you do.
You know that somewhere in the dark city, someone else who, like you, closes their eyes when he kisses them, and you also know that they are luckier.
Because he loves them instead