In the cold light of morning, Curt went back to his flat. He had abandoned it during the night, along with Rhea.
"Let's go." he whispered to her. She got up in a jolt, even though she was already awake.
(----------)
Curt smoked in the kitchen while he waited for Rhea to dress. He put out the cigarette when she emerged from the bedroom, dragging the lighted tip on the surface of a table.
Without a sound and only with unspoken communication, they left the apartment and headed for the train station in silence.
(---------------)
Sharing a cubicle grew to be uncomfortable for Rhea. She second-guessed her relationship with Curt more than ever; she doubted its strength.
She looked at him and was surprised at herself for not wanting to kiss his lips, feel his hair, or commit any other little act of compensation. She took his left hand in her right and laced her fingers between his. What was this she was doing now? She wasn't compensating. She was settling for defeat. Fate had won.
Curt shuffled, shivering in his sleep. Rhea remembered that he had also been quivering when they were waiting in line to purchase tickets. She gripped his hand tighter and fell asleep eventually, shutting her inflamed eyes for the first time since Curt left her the night before.
(---------------)
Brian wasn't there when Curt and Rhea arrived at his house. It had a feeling of desolation, like no one had been there in years. Yet, as they walked through its halls and observed every other trinket or piece of furniture, there were no sheets of dust to suggest neglect.
Rhea made Curt stay in her old room after a maid ushered them in. She promised to call him when her father came home.
Just when she was exiting the room, Curt tried to retrieve her.
"Don't leave." he whispered, with almost no emotion.
"I have to wait for Brian." she returned, matching the lonely depth of Curt's voice.
"Don't leave me." he said again, like he didn't hear or comprehend her refusal.
"I…I have to keep a lookout for him. He can just come and go as he pleases, and then…then our trip would've been for nothing." Rhea reasoned.
She didn't think she could stand being in the same room with Curt—that was the actuality. There was too much shame, too much guilt racking her all over.
"Well you're home, aren't you?" Curt said weakly. "That's not nothing."
Rhea paused by the door, letting Curt's light encouragement wash over her momentarily. She fanned her lashes once, ever-so-slowly, and sighed as the door clicked shut.
(----------)
Sure enough, an hour or two later, Brian was back. He nearly dropped his keys when he saw who was waiting for him on the other side of the door.
"Rhea? What happened? What are you doing here?" he tossed his words in mid-panic.
"Brian—Dad, I brought Curt with me. He wants to see you." Rhea fronted, not bothering to explain.
Brian's heart-rate shot up on a higher octave before it had the chance to go down.
"What? Why'd you bring him here?" he inquired in aggravation.
"Please. It's all he's wanted."
"But—" Brian replied, apparently ready to object.
"I'll get him." Rhea said, and raced back to her room before Brian could say another word.
(----------)
Moments after, there were piercing shrieks bellowing from Rhea's old bedroom. Brian rushed to the source of commotion and found his daughter weeping like the world had ended.
Rhea had thrown herself over a peaceful-looking Curt, who was sitting lifelessly on the floor, against a chair.
All of Brian's hesitance dissolved at the sight of his old love, now dead. It appeared like he dove towards him. He picked Curt's head up and off the chair. Rhea backed away and watched her father embrace Curt, binding around him so tightly it looked like he was choking air out of his already breathless body. She joined him in his violent and trembling sobs, crying at how tragically undone the two men she loved the most had become.
Rhea felt sick. She fled from the place and left Brian rocking Curt to heaven, only seeing the swollen veins on Curt's limp arms in her mind.
(---------------)
Some sort of dreary feeling remained even weeks after Curt's burial. Rhea could remember it well. Her mind always recounted what she didn't want to.
It seemed like everyone came; she and Brian, Jack, Jerry, Trevor, Malcolm, Shannon, and Mandy. Not surprisingly, Rhea avoided her like the plague, wouldn't even look at her. When she presented Curt's eulogy at his funeral, she tried very hard to keep her eyes on the violet carpet that was patterned with footprints of the mourners. If she looked up, she kept her eyes bolted over everybody's heads. She didn't want to be met with Mandy's red, swollen face; or worse, the endless, sickening eyes of pity. Rhea hated to be pitied. To her, it was cheap sympathy—given only because it was necessary.
At the burial, it was Mandy who cried the most throughout. Whether it was when Brian sang his self-written dirge or when some unknown men lowered the casket into the wet soil, she wept. More tears seeped out of her eyes than Brian's, and she even bawled more than Rhea.
Brian wore sunglasses. The thickest make-up couldn't shadow the darkened, tear-beaten wells under the folds of his eyes. Rhea didn't hide her breakdown.
Breakdowns, emotional degeneration and tears, weren't enough. Rhea felt Mandy's tears to be as true as any one of her accents. And just to suppress what was tearing at her from the inside, she confronted her mother.
"So, you're sad that Curt's dead?" Rhea asked, her mocking delivery barely sheathed.
"What kind of question is that?" Mandy countered. "Everybody is sad that Curt's dead. You're not the only one hurting."
"Yeah. I bet you're sad you couldn't watch him die." Rhea stated stoically.
"Listen to me!" Mandy snatched Rhea by the shoulders. "I never wanted Curt to die! Why can't you believe that!"
"Why couldn't you understand to leave us alone!" Rhea contested, unleashing herself from Mandy's hold. "He would've still been here."
"Don't hate me for something I didn't do. If you wanna hate me for being a fucking lousy mother, do that. Don't place Curt's death on my hands."
"I don't hate you." Rhea said callously. "But I don't wanna see you ever again."
She turned away, leaving Mandy in the misty cold. Brian looked on from a distance, glad that he had escorted all the people away earlier. He didn't try to intermediate and throw his former wife a safety rope. He was neither more nor less disconnected from her than his daughter.
(---------------)
"At least you can give Curt something that I could never have given, and never can." Brian comforted Rhea, strolling through his garden with her, one evening.
"I guess." Rhea said optimistically, stroking the forming bulge on her belly. She hugged Brian and kissed his cheek, then went off on her own.
A doting warmness wove its way into her system. She had long forgiven her father for not wanting to establish his real relation to her. She recalled the two of them standing, together and separately at the same time, by the edge of Curt's coffin. One thought came to her: protection. Increasingly, she became thankful, feeling blessed for his company. He was the only one who could ever fathom what she felt, how she felt about Curt.
Spotting a marble bench with help from the faint moonlight, Rhea sat herself and took out her most-treasured poetry book, opening it to Curt's dedication.
"Listen to what daddy said to me, Emile." she murmured to the little boy inside her. "Rhea. With you, I feel close to home. Love always, Curt."
FIN
Note: Hope ya'll have enjoyed this. Please review! No, I'm not asking for praise. I just really want to know what you think of the story.
