My life is my own (Chapter 8)
By: Amee Eliza
Martha was sleeping. Soundly. Aaron watched her breath in and out. To reassure himself he wasn't living in a dream he looked at his gold wedding band. He twisted it senselessly, he soaked in the dark and warmth of the two. He got up. He could never sleep that long. He had been sleeping for a record six hours. He felt this almost desperate feeling he was suppose to be doing something. He had been in the secret service for many years and sometimes he did his duty in his sleep. In his dreams, he dreamed about people he had seen before, missions, shoot outs, bombs, and weapons of mass destruction. With a sigh of relief he was glad Martha hadn't realized what he was dreaming. He was her sole support. She was unstable sometimes in her emotions but he loved her deeply. It was strange how far they had come when two years ago it had seemed the whole world was coming to an end.
With a need to make himself useful Aaron started the coffee pot. The kitchen was small, with white clean counters, and laminate floors. He had installed them himself in a plain good color that was called antico modulaire. Martha had a bit despaired because the floor was nothing much to look at but a gave a shout of glee when he showed her the flowers on the counter for her. He did little things everyday to show his affection for her. Martha wasn't so good at surprises though, he caught her in the middle of her endeavors almost every time. She would throw her hands up in annoyance when she got spotted, so now Aaron pretended not to see her. Aaron didn't always understand her and it caused strain in their communications. He had never been a man of much words but now he was struggling to get his word out. Sometimes he felt desperate. Not knowing how to make a situation better, in those times he thought of his Father. Because he knew he would give him the advice he needed- if he was still here. He was gone. Aaron tried not to think of that event or the absence but he could feel it in his heart. It was gnawed. A man could only fight so long and at certain times Aaron felt like he was fading. His strength, his sense, and judgement. But love kept him going. He knew it was real, the love he felt. He would surely die for her at the stake and for his country he would lay down a hundred times. That was what a hero was, but Aaron didn't even think of himself as a hero. He would not be called a hero until many years after his death. Martha would tell all of him. The whole truth. But that, is an echo of the future.
Martha got up and looked around. "Oh no he is gone already!" She thought. She felt for her robe that lay sloppily on the ground and frolicked out of the room.
"Aaron?" She beckoned. She fixed her hair behind her ears.
"I'm here. I don't have to work till seven today." Aaron explained. Aaron reached for her embrace. She smiled. She let him go for a second as he turned off the coffee pot but she grabbed him into a kiss.
"Your mighty vivacious today Martha." Aaron chuckled.
Her kiss was divine.
The phone rang and Aaron picked it up "Aaron, we need you at headquarters, there is a possible threat we need you to follow up on." Aaron grimaced. He had a desire to ask questions but he knew the sooner he left the closer he would be to the answer. "Okay, I'll be there." Aaron said.
Martha sipped her cup of coffee on the couch. Her nonchalant eyes looked up. "You gotta go?" She asked. "'Fraid so." He answered. "See you later." He offered. "Okay." She mumbled.
He rushed out the door. It was raining. He ran through the ran and jumped in his red Hyundai Elantra. He did the list in his head "seat belt, windshield wipers, mirror adjustment, lights, start the engine." And he was off as the rain pelted down.