Her Rise and My Fall

Her Rise and My Fall.

The door slid open and the air swirled around her.
It was fresh and slightly cool. It was just enough to raise tiny goose-bumps on her arms, making her hairy European arms all lumpy and furry. The air pressed against her, caressing her body, clinging to it. She could feel the anticipation in the air, smell the oncoming storm. She was not worried of being caught in the sudden flurry that Nature would cause, just to prove She was powerful. She was not worried because the weather mimicked her mood; tense and waiting.
The hint of anticipation tantalised her. Her night could end in a ruining storm that left her broken or in a fresh rain that would leave her refreshed and new.
She glanced quickly at the sky and the thick clouds, trying to assess what was looming.
The sky had no answer, balancing on a pivot point, like she was. The next hour would decide both of their fates.
She could see his silhouette on the trampoline. She trod lightly across the damp lawn, her bare soles playfully picking up the annoying shreds of friendly grass.
“Can I sit with you?” She was pleased that her voice sounded strong. After months of not speaking to each other, it seemed like her throat could no longer recognise the order to speak to him. But tonight, on this one night, it obeyed.
He looked up at her voice and nodded.
She tried to clamber gracefully up onto the trampoline, but as usual, gracefulness eluded her. She tripped as she stood up and she briefly teetered. She pondered whether he would catch her as she fell, but just as the thought occurred to her, she righted herself. She felt strangely angry that circumstances would not let her take the easy way out.
She sat opposite him and tried to not stare at him. She could see his beauty, the beauty that only she could see. His gorgeous eyes, his amazing smile and his magnificent heart. She could match so many adjectives to him; he was so often on her mind.
Instead of looking at him, she tried to listen to the silence of the night. There were no bird calls, no bug skitterings or chirping. All the animals had left in the wake of the possible storm. Yet the silence was thick and layered. The very absence of sound was a song, the majesty of the earth making harmonies just in the silence. It was the most amazing thing she had heard; at least it was until his voice interrupted her.
“Why?”
Suddenly, all the words she had ever told her bedroom walls and God and herself but never told him; suddenly they all pour out of her mouth. She tries to organise them as they flow out, but she has no luck. She rambles, flicking from story to story. She feels the overwhelming need to have him understand, but she feels so disappointed that in all the conversations she planned, she forgot how to structure it. She could sum her argument up quite easily, but the three key words were forbidden.
Perhaps he sensed them though, because when she had finally stopped talking, he sat silent.
She tried to be unmoving, and wait patiently. However, her leg soon became numb and cramped. She tried to move it silently, but the trampoline squeaked and the tremors spread over it, like ripples. She smiled apologetically at him but he remained vacant.
“It doesn’t change a thing, you know?” His voice was sudden and almost rough.
She tried to nod like she understood.
She stared at her hands, trying to lose herself in the prettiness of them. Her fingers were pale and long, and her nails were pink and shapely. The hands looked like they belonged to a pianist or a lady, not belonging to a writer and a fuck-up.
Her hands could not hold her for long. His statement was ambiguous and it would be the following statement that defined it.
Destroying storm or revitalising rain?
She dragged her gaze from her hands and made herself stare at him. He seemed to sense her eyes. He looked like he was deciding something and then he spoke.
She stared into his blue eyes and leaned forward slightly. She balanced on tender-hooks and could feel her soul depend on this moment.
The words he said pulled the world from underneath her and she fell quickly.
She gasped like his words were lashes, and she rocked back on her heels involuntarily. Her hand went to her mouth and she tried to get off the trampoline, needing suddenly to flee him.
His hand grabbed her arm before she could leave.
“No, please stay.”
She had said just before that she would do anything he wanted, but she could not do this. Her body told her to leave, to run. She knew she was going to throw up or collapse, or both.
“No. Please, let me go. I need to go. Away.”
Her feet touched the grass and this time the dampness grabbed a hold of her. She was cold, cold to the bone, cold and sick and shocked and she wished she were dying too. Halfway across the grass, she bent at the waist and threw up. She collapsed, crying, trying to avoid the vomit.
Her body was so confused, crying and throwing up. Anguish and sickness and it just felt wrong. She could feel it, the words he said. He loves her. Not me. He loves her.
Suddenly, he was there.
“No, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
She gathered herself and, wiping her mouth, she stood and stared at him. The tears still coursed down her face and she had to blink through them.
“No, there is no one else. I lied. I needed to know you still cared about me. There is no one else. I love you.”
Her sobbing stopped when she heard the words. Her brain ticked through them numbly, trying desperately to understand them.
A large part of her; the part that pushed her blood around her body and kept her alive; wanted to rush across the tiny space between them and kiss him.
But that part was still in shock.
Instead, she numbly whispered, “Bastard.”
The word she said should have contained fury at being deceived, but it was so weak, he just laughed.
He walked towards her, and stared. She was still crying and he wiped away one of her tears. And, completely oblivious to the fact she had just thrown up, he kissed her.
The clouds above them finally parted and drenched them in a warm rain.

I watched them kissing in the rain. My hand was at my collarbone, trying to gain some sort of feeble comfort from the warmth of my hand. But my hand was cold and shaking. My tears drenched it.
So, she had found her way back into his arms. After all she had done to him, after all the hurt she had caused? I had been there, watching him cry. I had made him better again, and then suddenly she gets to breeze in and steal him?
As I watched them, the rain got harder. It cascaded down the door, and it thankfully closed the connection between their love and my hate, between her rise and my fall.

Her Rise and My Fall

BellaRose

Joined December 2008

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