The man was suave, dressed in a black suit. He walked through the airport, navigating the current of teeming crowds. His wavy hair was cut short and structured as if designed by an architect. Each step he took was measured, not one-step placing him off balance. But, his eyes were quickly darting to and fro.
He reached the escalator and stepped aboard for the ride to the bottom with his briefcase in hand. A boy stood in front of him with his mother, sucking a lollipop and turned around to stare. The man winked and the boy hurriedly flipped back around.
“John!” a woman yelled from below.
Recognition flitted across his face and he smiled.
He ran down the rest of the escalator, forgetting his measured gait and gathered her into his arms.
“Rachel,” he breathed, smelling her curly brown hair and pressing her to his chest. He brushed his hand up the small of her back, imagining the feel of her soft skin beneath the clothing, and then stopped, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head.
#
John lay on his back with the smooth cotton white sheets of the bed beneath him. His hands rested behind his head and Rachel lay next to him, curled up like a question mark against his body. Her soft hand lay across his chest, sending charges through his skin. He could hear her breathing slowly and his blue eyes turned to stare at her sleeping softly. He bit his lip in pain. It all felt so good.
Her gown had shift away from one of her legs that was against his and he dared not move for fear of taking away the bliss of her skin touching his. He bit his lip harder. Why was he doing this? He reached a hand out and stroked her hair, slowly, lovingly, and she cuddled against his hand. Yanking it away quickly, he shook his head.
His eyes shifted to stare at the grandfather clock across the room, slowly ticking away. It was regal, like a sentinel watching over its charge. A sentinel with integrity and dignity. John looked down at himself and frowned. He could not will himself to move. Not yet, he told himself. One more time, he told himself; then I’ll stop.
The sentinel continued to stare at him, questioning him, looking at him in disgust.
He closed his eyes, casting aside the feeling, and then opened them once again to look everywhere around the room but at the clock.
His eyes rested on the bed frame. It was oak and intricately carved, probably by the nimble hands of a master woodworker. It was solid and firm, true to its commitment to hold its occupants. Committed.
John shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, shaking the thoughts away. The hand on his chest now felt like a knife cutting into his character, but he told himself again--just one more time, and then I’ll stop.
He opened his eyes again to look everywhere but at the bed frame and the clock. He looked at the woman lying next to him.
“Rachel,” he whispered to himself.
He remembered their first meeting. He’d asked her the question and she’d said no. She’d asked him back. He laughed at himself. He could hear his conscience laughing at him in the background. I told you what to say. But did you listen?
Seething inward, his eyes bore into his soul like fire. But, then they stopped and were void of all emotion. A tear wandered down his cheek and dripped onto his chest, right above his heart.
He looked at it, sitting there, a pool of perfect clarity above his heart. Looking at it closer and closer, he quickly brushed it away and looked up to see himself in the mirror.
A mirror never lies. It shows you things as they are, and so he looked into his eyes, staring into the depths of his soul and then shuddered, looking away.
“I can’t,” he whispered and turned in surrender, gathering Rachel into his arms.
#
“John!”
He walked across the terminal, stolidly, staring at the ground, into his wife’s arms. His lips barely brushed her cheek and he shook his head, causing a tear to fall to the floor. He looked at it and looked up into the glass doors, staring at his reflection.
“I can’t,” he whispered to himself. “One more time.”
“John?” She whispered.
John looked into her broken eyes; she searched for truth, clarity. Love.
“Nothing.” He looked away.
"I love you," she said, begging him to say it back.
*hugs* Haven't talked to you for awhile!
