By
HUDA Ansari
The cloudy sky had cleared and the winter sun had started making an appearance through the windows, slowly thawing away the frost on the panes. She turned towards the warm light, her shaky fingers instinctively attempting to grasp at the gentle rays entering the room. They traced the light to the frosty panes and hesitantly rested themselves on the cold glass. The consciousness of the reality was slowly dawning upon her, uncharneling with it the graves of the dreaded past.
As the warmth of her fingers drew an impression on the chilled pane, it all came rushing back. All those winter mornings they sat there in their pyjamas, with hands wrapped around cups of freshly brewed hot coffee, sharing the solace of mutual silence and understanding. Or so she thought anyway.
The memories brought back with them the same old pain. It hadn't lessened. It hadn't been forgotten. It was just buried away. And now its spectre was staring her in the face again.
She lifted her hand off the window and watched the impression disappear into the frosty background, as if it never existed. She closed her eyes, hoping it was a nightmare that would just pass. She sat there, pining for relief from the pain, praying for his soul, regretting not knowing his intentions. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she slowly opened her eyes. The nightmare was her reality. She knew it didn't matter whether it was a dream or not. The emotions thus stirred could not be put back to sleep so easily.
The doorbell rang. She quickly wiped the tears off her face and walked to the door to greet the potential tenants.
"We went to university together and have moved here for work," they told her. "We don't know many people here and so thought why not share a place. Better than renting with strangers, you know!"
"Actually, it's our first real jobs and we can't afford anything too fancy. Just want a place to call home and we read good reviews about the locality."
"Yes, it's really the perfect place to live in on your first job," she replied, pursing her lips to save herself from faltering whilst relating her own past to this wretched place she once called home. "It's just the right size, and just the right amount of privacy. It's the perfect place to share... with a... good friend," the last sentence seemed like the most painful thing she had ever had to say.
As the two hopeful tenants looked through the kitchen arrangements, she stood there staring at the barren wall of the living room. "I'm sorry," she whispered as if she could still see his portrait hanging there. She had always joked about the haunting emptiness in his eyes. Only if she could have told him that closing them forever wouldn't take away his pain and listlessness; it'd just engulf everyone around him into a forever deeper abyss of unanswered questions.
"Oh did you say this is the master bedroom?", the girl exclaimed as she popped her head into what used to be his room.
She hesitantly followed them in, holding her breath in. She hadn't entered the room since that day. The day that was still more vivid than any reality she was ever going to experience.
"This room is perfect. It's like it speaks to me..." the girl piped to her friend. The girl gently slid her slender fingers down the floral wallpaper of the bedroom wall. "It's just so gorgeous!"
She felt sick to her stomach. The knowledge of the gory secret that the wallpaper hid made her insides churn. There couldn't be any beauty in a place which had witnessed the vile reality of the untimely end.
She excused herself to the lounge. She was shaking. She held on to the marble counter top to steady herself. She could barely breathe.
"We'll take it. Shall we fill out the paperwork now?", they followed her out to the lounge.
"I will... email... you," she stuttered. "Thanks for coming," she exclaimed as she held the door to rush them out.
She closed the door behind them. She was once again in this place alone with her past. She was still shaking. She made her way to his room, supporting her unsteady self with the walls. She stood at the entrance but she couldn't bring herself to enter. She was transported ten years back. Tears flowed down without restrain. She fell on her knees, wishing she could go back in time, change his mind, help him, or simply just talk to him. But it was all in vain. He was gone forever, just like his ghastly passing was etched in her mind.
"I still miss you everyday," she stammered through sobs. He thought he knew so much, yet so little did he know. She felt physical pain radiating through her body and she collapsed on to the floor, much like she had that day. It wasn't the romanticised anguish he thought his absence would bring - it was the real affliction of not being able to share a few treasured moments each day with someone dear; of not being able to help those closest to you; of a lifetime of regret.
She curled up into a foetal position, her thoughts fogging up and only his last words echoing in her mind.
"My heart wants to fly, but I don't have wings."
