An Unbreakable Vow

All things end. Empires, stories, even love. They don’t tell you that though, it’s like a secret initiation nobody tells you about. Until you’re already head over heels in love. Until it’s too late. They made Love out to be this thing, immune to end. But Love was a choice. You had to choose to love someone everyday because otherwise the feelings fizzle out. Otherwise you would come to the harsh realization that people and their feelings could change like the morning wind from fall to winter. Causing this bone curling chill that runs itself down your spine to remind you the flesh is just flesh. If it was no protection against cold and starvation, what protection could it be against foolish notions of love… Beloved, how did we get here? When had we chosen this? 

The rattle of the train as it gained speed tore Evelyn from her thoughts, she blinked repeatedly, as if to clear away the cloud from her mind and eyes. The sun bore down her window and highlighted her soft reddish brown curls. Hauntingly beautiful one would call her, her skin was soft and warm; the color of pine cones. But prettiness on the outside, did not speak for prettiness on the inside. In some cases, it often just signified that there was a putridness hiding behind the dazzling smile and charm. Had it always been this way? Evelyn could hardly remember now.

Her smile, which was so bright never quite reached her eyes. As if she were in constant mourning, but she often reminded herself a smile a day would keep the questions at bay. One had appearances to keep up after all.

Across from her sat a handsome but rugged man. A man who knew hard labor and passion. An earthy scent embedded into his clothes and tanned skin, he had peppered stubble, and a strong jawline. Evelyn could not help but to always marvel at this man, her husband. 

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked quietly. Had she not been watching him so intently, so fixated on his lips that used to parade sweet words and kisses along her neck, she would have missed it. My love, he says. But one could argue there was no love, especially in those words, only formality. Could she blame him? After everything that happened...

She nodded her head in response, what words could work here? What words could reach him this time? She shifted in her seat, forgetting the book lounging on her lap. She saw it fall almost in slow motion at first, suddenly her body moved at its own accord and she bent to pick it up; but was met with the warmth and roughness of her husband's hand. The tiniest, swiftest touch. So quick, she wondered if they had touched at all or if it was just her body screaming for what it missed most. An innocent touch, a love language that could soothe her body and fears. They looked up at each other almost instantly and Evelyn saw the faintest trace of a smile. So close, after so long. Her husband's face softened, maybe one could say it came alive but it was gone just as quickly. He pulled away, but gently grabbed her hand from across him and held her book in the other hand. Still she barely had time to grasp onto him, to really relish in the touch, before he pulled away and replaced his hand with her book. He turned his body toward the window. Absentmindedly staring at the beautiful snow, laid perfectly upon the ground. No footprints to have soiled and claimed the space. It was peaceful, as if everything were asleep. As if mankind had never touched anything. It forced Evelyn to break away from the sudden spell she felt had made them in that moment, the only two people left in the world. 

“Francis.” She found herself saying, almost pleadingly to her husband who seemed to stiffen at her voice.

“Evy please, not now. Not here.” He whispered. 

“Then when?” She asked, and unsurprisingly was met with no response. Some time passed before either of them spoke. Though the view of the breathtaking mountains clad in white and streams that brought a sense of urgency and life to an otherwise quiet and sleeping land, Evelyn could hardly enjoy the beauty of the Swiss Alps. The cold, frozen beauty reminded her of things she wanted to forget. Feelings she didn’t want to feel anymore. Evelyn and Francis had hours to go before they would reach St. Moritz, a fact that weighed on Francis. Nowhere to escape and he knew sooner or later they would have to speak. He would have to give her more than he was.

“Will you look at me? Or is the view more mesmerizing?” 

Francis couldn’t help but crack a smile, shifting his eyes toward Evelyn’s figure. Finding the beauty he always relished whenever he looked in her direction. 

“What view could ever be more mesmerizing than you?” 

Evelyn smiled but again it didn’t reach her eyes. Francis however did not turn away from her this time. The time was now, if ever.

“You left Evy, for months. No call, no note.”

“You stopped loving me.” Evelyn said quietly, and her husband frowned at the certainty. The resignation of the words. But quickly his face changed and Evy regretted saying anything at all. To bring up his faults, meant uncovering hers as well. 

“And that gave you the right?” He stared her down with something close to hatred.

“No. It was wrong, it was all wrong. But you… You don’t deny it.” 

“What game is this? What is it that you want from me Evelyn? Tell me and you shall have it, but I am no mind reader.” He almost yelled in exhaustion and frustration. Maybe even fear. What if she asked for something he could not give her now?

“I just want you to love me again damn it!”

“The love you seek from me is one of fairy tale, one from a life long ago lived and then set to rest. I choose you Evy, I will always choose you. Even at fault to my own heart.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed, rubbing his face vigorously, “Nothing, please. Allow this to rest. What more can talking do for us.” 

“Say it Francis, just say it once. I only need to hear it once.” 

“Say what?”

“That you blame me, that ever since ‘it’ happened you could no longer touch or look at me. I left because I could not be close to you and not have you touch me like you used too. I could not bear it, hands that I knew so well, treating me with pity and not love.” 

Francis held his breath, it was the first time she had mentioned it. What could he say? The truth, but what would be the cost?

“Do you never grow tired? Are we to continue on this way? There are some things better left to sulk in dark hallways of the mind than spoken aloud in the light.” He sighed. 

“Must you always talk around what you truly mean to say?”

“Well, I am a writer darling.”

Evelyn scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the window. She noticed they were reaching a tunnel, and the wet barren rock stood brooding, ready to swallow them. The snow rested along the hill like a blanket.

“Well, we are reaching darkness soon. Maybe you can finally say what you mean and we can leave it behind in that tunnel to brood. To echo and disperse.” 

Francis considered this. At the risk of upsetting her and a carefully laid out life to cover secrets and shame, he wondered if that tunnel could house it all. They would reach the tunnel in a moment and Francis hoped they would come out on the other side. How much of themselves would they have to leave behind? 

Darkness. Soothing, rattling darkness. Darkness that seemed to gain on them as the train bounded on once they entered the tunnel. Francis and Evelyn could not see each other, but knew they were staring into each other's eyes.

“I know that baby was not mine. You said it was over between the two of you. That you chose me.”

“Francis…” Was all she could manage. She was glad for the cool the darkness provided, and the darkness itself so she could hide her face from him. 

“Francis, I am so sorry.” She tried again. Suddenly, they were thrust back into the light. The cold, quiet, and stunning brightness of sun on snow. 

She wanted to speak again, but Francis held his hand up to stop her. His head began to pulse along to the rhythm of the train’s wheels scraping forward. 

“You and I know quite well that sorry stopped being an adequate payment for our mistakes a long time ago.”

“You… How did you…”

“Know?” He said quickly, leaning forward closing some distance between them, “I can not give you children my love. That’s how I know. I’ve talked with doctors. Of course, I thought it a miracle at first. I thought that we had defied logic, but who am I to defy logic and science? You met with him one last night, and you came back to me. Told me no when I asked if you laid together, but that was a lie.”

“Yes.” Evelyn breathed out, tears beginning to swell and burn her eyes.

“Evelyn, he was beautiful. They let me hold him when you were asleep. I would have loved him as my own you know, gladly, even at the cost of resenting you. For lying, for being so damn weak in your desires. I am so sorry you lost your baby and I’m sorry it took me so long to say so. These are waters not easily tread in. There is one thing I have wanted to ask for so long, but maybe I was afraid of the answer...” 

“What?” Evelyn breathed out, a small smile at her lips for the mention of her beautiful son. So, Francis had no hate for the child, would have loved him. She was desperate for any attempt to connect, give him something other than pain. Unlikely, but answers could be some solace. 

“When you left me for those few months, did you go to him?”

Evelyn weighed her words carefully before speaking, making sure not to let an out pour of useless apology spring from her lips, “I swear to you I did not Francis, I swear it.”

“Well, that is some comfort. I do not need to hear about where you were or what you did. I can not imagine the pain you were trying to cast away, so I will not condemn you for the ways you tried to numb your suffering. If you will not condemn me for mine.” Meaning don’t ask, don’t tell. On both sides. 

Evelyn nodded, “What a mess we, I, have made of things.”

“Yes, we both have always been rather good at that. Love, how messy and weak it can leave one.”

“Do you really… Francis can you…”

“Can I love you still? It’s funny how that works. How months of your absence only made my heart revolve around its love for you. Somehow.”

“Please know I love you.” Evelyn tried to plead, tried to make her words sink into him.

“How can I trust you? I wasn’t enough before, what makes me enough now?”  

“I was foolish, scared. You were working all the time, we couldn’t have a baby, I needed someone to make me feel lovable. Like I was more than what my body could produce. Your family, my family, in one ear and the other; my doubts clouding my heart.”

“If only my love and support could have been a stronger force.” 

“If it’s too late for I’m sorry, it’s too late for what could or should have been.” 

Francis nodded, leaning his head against the window to cool the heat at his temple, “Are we? Too late.” 

“We don’t have to be, I know I have made so many mistakes; but time can show you that I mean to do things right this time.”

“A lot of time. Are you… Am I willing to spend years learning how to relove each other? Would it be enough?” 

“I’m willing Francis, if only we could start over. I know it’s been hard, but anything worth something isn’t supposed to be easy right?”

“Well it’s not supposed to be this damn hard either.” Francis spit through clenched teeth, Evelyn closed her eyes and tears fell freely now as she nodded. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and sitting forward. He laid his arms to rest in his lap as he cradled his face. He heard the rustle of an arm moving through air, the sound of bracelets moving down a slender wrist. He stiffened at a small touch at his shoulder, and as much as he craved the touch; he had to fight his body's urge to slink away from it. How could the heart and body want two things that were so very different from each other? Which one was right? 

Francis kept his eyes shut, but slowly moved one hand to rest atop the small and warm hand of his wife. Connection, after so long. A touch he knew well once, but now as foreign as a touch between lovers displaced could be. As cold as the world outside the train window. Just as beautiful though. 

Evelyn slipped her hand out of Francis’ grasp and cleared her throat. Francis looked up, waited for his eyes to adjust from the strain of rubbing and saw she had her hand out intent for a handshake.

“Hi there. My name is Evelyn, what’s yours…” And Francis, through fault of nostalgia or love or his vow when they married, broke and melted at the sight of her. At this small reprieve, this attempt to start over and leave the old versions behind in that tunnel. He took her hand gently in his and smiled tiredly.

“I’m Francis, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

The two of them did not let go of each other's hand, did not dare to lose each other's gaze. Though if they had, they would have noticed that as they bounded faster toward St. Moritz some of the snow along their path had begun to melt, leaving traces of small purple flowers beginning to grow. A promise of new life.