Sunshower
She sat and stared at him across the bed. “You’ve only just come. Don’t say that you are going.”
“Did you really think that I would stay?”
“I’ll quit – I promise you.”
“Promising me isn’t enough.” He looked away from her eyes, out the curtainless window and at the barren branches beyond. Studied grey shapes enclosed by intersecting limbs. “It isn’t about me.”
“I don’t know what you want.”
He twirled around and set his feet flat on the floor. “That’s the intrinsic problem isn’t it? What I want is not the issue here.” He leaned across the space between them and stroked her cheek. “Pain is everywhere. It is the most readily available commodity on earth. The trick is to find your way beyond it.” He kissed her gently. Hoped that she would read more than a goodbye in his lips.
His footsteps sounded hollowly in the narrow stairwell. It was all he could do not to turn around and go back. He stepped out onto the street and looked up at the sky. In the east the clouds were breaking. Bands of light streamed through, caught distant buildings with their brilliance. Took his eyes away from the decay at his feet. If only she could see it now too. He looked up at her window, hoping to see her face pressed against the glass, but she was probably still sitting on her bed with the rubber tubing wrapped around her arm.
It was not a picture he wanted to leave with. The door had not locked behind him. He took the stairs three at once. Was in time to knock the syringe from her hand before the needle penetrated. Held her tightly to him as he removed the tubing.
They sat together and stared out the window, she shaking in his arms, her face lit by the golden streams that were glancing off every surface.
One day she would do it for herself. But not today. Not today.