清明

杜牧

清明时节雨纷纷，

路上行人欲断魂。

借问酒家何处有？

牧童遥指杏花村。

She opened her eyes. Today was April 5th. The day she had gotten the letter. A letter she had been dreading for so long.

Seven years ago, she had finally received a letter from Gilbert's base. She had hurried to the kitchen to open it, wondering what kind of excuse Gilbert had for not talking to her for so long. She also began to prepare a mental scolding she would give him once she had time to write back to him.

The first thing that went wrong was the handwriting. It wasn't his messy, familiar handwriting. It was a neat script that marched in solemn lines across the paper.

The second thing that went wrong was what the letter said. There weren't any complaints about the food and the people. There weren't any "I love you"s and "I miss you"s. There was nothing that she was searching for. Just formal writing and apologies.

The third thing that went wrong was when she noticed she had skipped the first line of the letter. By now, she had a pretty good idea of what the first line said, but she still hoped and hoped that she was wrong.

No.

She was right.

Gilbert was... gone.

And here she was today, this rainy, gloomy day, on her way to the cemetery. To visit the last, dead remains of her love. Her half.
She drove slowly down the roads, windshield wipers flashing constantly in front of her eyes. She did not allow herself to cry.

When she reached the graveyard, she saw a few other grey people trudging slowly across the field of the dead, mourning with their bleak umbrellas.

Stupid. She had forgotten an umbrella. It did not matter. She got out of the car and marched slowly towards the one spot on the cemetery. The one spot that she cared most for.

Here lies Gilbert Beilschmidt, a proud soldier and lover of Elizaveta Hedervary.

Here he lies. She thought. Here he lies forever.

No more of his arrogance and teasing. No more of his smile and warmth. No more of his hugs and kisses. No more of his complaints and desires. Here he lies. With the rest of his dreams.

Now she let herself cry, tears intermingling with rain as they slowly traveled down her face. She crouched in front of the gravestone, huddled and depressed.

I loved you, she thought. No, I love you. I loved you, and I still love you, and I will always love you.

At some point, she ran out of tears. Her hair stuck to her back, and her black dress was heavy with rain. She let the drops of water wash over her for a few more minutes, blank.

Slowly, she got up and began to walk back to the car, feeling the emptiness of Gilbert not being by her side. She sat in the car, not caring about the wet and ruined seats. She sat there. She decided to go to the place. A place she had tried to avoid all these years.

This year, I will go. I need a break, if only a day, I need a break.

She drove her car to the bar.

And went inside. She was a sight, and she drew stares, but she silently ignored this. She demanded a drink from the blond bartender. He looked unsure, bright, green eyes sparkling against her dim, green eyes.

"Are you sure, love?"

She shouted for a drink. The bartender obliged. She drank recklessly, letting the warmth slowly cover the despair of loss. More and more. It didn't taste good, but it felt good. She was dizzy.

They were fuzzy and annoying. She wanted more. She needed more. Why were they being mean? Why were they going black? Why was everything going black?

Elizaveta first felt the light through her eyelids, pounding uncomfortably on her head. Her head hurt. It hurt a lot. She didn't know what was wrong.

Her heart hurt, too. Almost more.

Gilbert. She needed to open her eyes. She needed to get through the pain. Her head throbbed as she slowly opened her eyes.

She was in an unfamiliar room, lying on a couch. Her head hurt. Her head hurt a lot.

She dizzily sat up, focusing on the pain in her head, willing it to recede. She could not. She felt fuzzy and unsure. Weird. It was a feeling she had not felt before. The light was hurting her head.

A thumping was coming from another room. The thumping of a person walking. Each thump sent a throb of pain through her forehead.

The door opened, and someone familiar looked in. She couldn't place his face. He had something to do with Gilbert. That, she was sure of. The more she tried to think, the more it hurt.

He had blond, slick backed hair, and he held a measure of authority and preciseness. A familiar measure of authority and preciseness. He walked forward and extended his hand.

"Good Evening. I am Ludwig, Gilbert's brother. I believe you are Mrs. Hedervary?"

Elizaveta tried to return the handshake, but moving her hand made her dizzy, and before she knew it, she was lying down again.

"I'm... sorry. Will you allow me to take care of you for the rest of the day?" Ludwig looked at her with uncertainty and concern.

"...Yes" Elizaveta rasped.

She was given water and medicine, and she was allowed to rest. She was also given time to feel ashamed of how she had acted. After all, Ludwig would surely have been much more affected by Gilbert's death, yet here he was moving on in his life. Was she that weak?

By the end of the next day, she had recovered sufficiently enough to thank Ludwig and be driven back home, where she found, to her surprise, her car waiting in the driveway, unharmed. Ludwig was kind. Kind and helpful.

I must learn from him, she thought. I must move on. Gilbert would not want me like this. I must work hard and carry the responsibilities of his dreams. I must. I must.

She began seeing Ludwig weekly.