The Labyrinth

Beth glanced at the odd little key she had found in her garden this morning. The snow had almost buried it, but it hadn't missed her eye when she had gone out for a sweep. Thankfully, it had been particularly big and evidently visible - an old, brass key, marked with soot and age. 

Sighing, she walked up to her kitchen. It was a neat kitchen - the kind Beth had always wanted. Clean black and cream slabs studded the walls while the floor was a polished white, just the way she liked it. 

Mark called these her ,“childish whims”. Well, he used to, back when they actually talked. 

Her hands automatically grabbed her plate and she scrubbed away at the stains. It had become almost habit at this point - eating alone, washing up alone and leaving a plate of food out for him. For Mark. 

Eighteen. It was an important number for her. On her eighteenth birthday she had met him, a family friend. Him with his dark brown hair, his trimmed beard and his blue - white striped jacket. His cologne had been expensive, his manners polished. The way he sipped wine, the way his eyes flitted over to hers, the way his lips landed on hers in her room - these were memories she had revisited and memorised by heart. 

Brushing away a stray curl, Beth grasped the key she had kept on the table. He would ask her to toss it out, she was sure of it. However, she supposed, it were her "childish whims" that held her back from throwing away odd titbits. 

She slipped the key in her pocket and her eyes landed on the calender illustrated with blue and pink birds. 

It was the third of August - her twenty second birthday. 

Wait, it was her birthday today ? 

How had she not remembered ? Then again, she had never been one to remember her birthdays, it were his birthdays she remembered.

She still remembered how on this very day three years, he had He had brought in a cupcake along with a small aluminum ring. He had asked her if she was ready to be his wife. Of course she had agreed - there wasn't anyone better than Mark. No - she mentally scolded herself. There isn't anyone better than Mark. Not wasn't - isn't. 

Beth's heart leaped, as she heard the front door swing open. Her eyes drifted towards the clock - it was only ten. 

Usually Mark wouldn't be back until twelve. 

But here he stood, wearing his brown coat, taking off his boots.  

"Mark ! You're early today." she smiled, walking forward. 

"Beth, hey." He let out a tiny smile as he slipped out of his boots. 

"Come in, I've got your dinner ready. Ivr made lasagna tonight. Your favourite." She smiled wider, striding towards the table. His still steaming plate lay upon it and she hastily fetched a glass of water.

"Oh. Oh that's uh that was really kind of you. Honey here's the thing, I....some colleagues took me for dinner tonight. I'll just skip dinner today, alright ?"

Beth's heart gave a dull throb. No worries. That's what she wanted to say, but the words remained stuck in her throat. 

"That's fine. I'll just...clean up then." Almost numbly, she swept away at the already spotless table. 

"Oh and...." 

Was he going to say happy birthday ? 

"Don't bother with dinner tomorrow. I've got an invitation." 

"Oh. Oh yeah, that's alright. Can I come ?" Beth knew the answer. She did, right ? 

"Darling, you'll feel uncomfortable there. Only my colleagues will be present and.... they're all older than you. You understand, don't you, sweet ?" 

"Of course. Of course, yeah. Enjoy." she nodded, feeling the same hollow feeling clamber up her chest, suffocate her.

"Mark." 

"Yeah ?" She could feel his gaze on her back as she continued sweeping the table. 

"Goodnight." 

"Goodnight, honey." 

Beth sank down on the oaken chair the moment he had entered. 

Times like this, it became a tiny bit difficult to breathe. She didn't know why, she simply knew she wanted to wrench her miserable heart out. 

Tears gathered in her eyes, sobs wracked her body as she let it all out.

Almost automatically her left hand came up to clap itself to her mouth. Like so many other things in her life, this too had become habit.  

Why was she crying ?

There was no reason to cry. He had a busy day and he had skipped dinner. He was sleeping. He had forgotten her birthday. Nothing's wrong. What's wrong ? Nothing's wrong. He was a man, a working man, he had the right to forget. He didn't always have time to attend to her childish needs. She gulped. Yes. Yes, that's it. Calm down now. 

There you go. 

And that's how the night passed, with Beth sleeping on the table while Mark slept, yes he did, right in the next room. 

Right in the next room, thousands of miles away from her.

She awoke to an empty house the next day. Of course, he had left. This too had become habit - her waking up to an empty house. 

The clock ticked on as did her boredom. There wasn't much to do today. She had swept all the floors spotless, the walls shone. Clothes were washed, dried and folded - they lay neatly in their wardrobe.

 She tried reading, but it didn't help. Fashon magazines didn't exactly make great literary pieces, but she supposed they had to do. 

Rifting through the pages she chanced upon photos of various models, models with sharp jawlines, makeup laden faces, flowy hair and white dresses. 

White dresses. 

She was immediately taken back to the many summer afternoons she had spent with him, wearing her favourite white dress, lying in his car, humming along tunelessly to songs they blasted.

Sundays, spent with him after church, with them going to the florist's and getting heaps of roses and jasmines. She would arrange them in porcelain vases and keep them in dipped water, but she knew Mark wasn't the complimenting type. 

So many outings she had cancelled, because Mark wanted her to. 

Did she regret ? Absolutely not. 

Mark. He was her world. Beth knew that. 

Autumn evenings, lying in a cosy embrace after sitcoms. She recalled gazing at his impeccable poise as he sipped his coffee while guffawing with her dad. The way he held his coffee mug was perfect, too perfect. Tiny bubbles had clung to his lips when he had taken his first sip and she had wiped them away with one swipe of her lips. 

Better than anything was her wedding. A smile lightened up her face as she shut her eyes and imagined that golden morning as the first rays of the sun had draped her face in its own sheen of gold. 

The way he had held her gaze as they said their vows had been so intense - so steady. That was what Mark was, a secret labyrinth for her to explore. He had so many curves and crevices, so many hidden sides....

Snapping out of her haze, her eyes landed on the clock. It was about time she made dinner. Her steps echoed as she walked over to the refrigerator, the light washing over her as she opened the door. 

"Crap." She swore, almost immediately. They had run out of vegetables. How had she not noticed that last night ? 

Clicking her tongue, she slid open a drawer in the kitchen. That was where she had kept some extra money. Slipping on a pair of worn out shoes and a frayed orange jacket, she walked out, the cold air making her shiver. 

The market wasn't far from their house, but the walk seemed to take forever. It was probably because she didn't go out as much as she used to, she figured. 

Arriving at the market was easier than figuring out the grocery store. In Beth walked, her hands scooping in onions and potatoes in her basket. It felt nice to be out after ages, she thought, as she made her way to the billing counter. 

Guess she gave herself a birthday treat after all. Humming the tune of some long lost lullaby, she stood in line, her feet already throbbing with tiredness.

"Do you have to get back now ? You just arrived here, you know." 

"Love, you know I have work. And besides, I had lunch with you didn't I ?" 

Beth was vaguely aware of turning around, when she heard that familiar voice. The voice she had spent hours listening to, each day. 

There he stood - Mark. 

And beside him ? Who was beside him ? 

She didn't care about the shoppers as she pushed through the crowd. There he was, there stood Mark. Mark, her pillar, her love. 

With a woman. 

She looked older than her. Blonde hair, red lipstick and carefully applied eyeliner marked her face. She was petite too, much slimmer than Beth. 

"Mark ?" Her voice faltered, as she took in the scene before her. 

Mark was holding hands with her, his loving gaze rested on her, like she was the only precious thing on the earth. 

Numb. 

That's what she felt. 

Numb. 

"Mark ?" 

A little louder this time, stronger. 

"Beth ?"

Now she had his gaze. His fearful gaze. 

"Beth what are you doing here ?" 

He was in that posture of his. His hands forward, taking slow steps towards her, as if she was an animal, as if he would startle her if he went any faster. 

"Beth, you need to listen to me-" 

"Mark." 

"Beth please-" 

"Mark." 

There was silence. He was silent. 

There were so many things she wanted to say. How could you, how dare you, how did you....? But she knew all along. She knew in some corner of her heart. 

She gulped a huge lump down her throat. 

"You won't need dinner tonight." 

Me, you won't need me too. 

"Thus," 

What about me ? 

"Make your breakfast tomorrow." 

"Bethany-" 

"It's my birthday, Mark. My twenty second birthday." 

She placed the basket of vegetables down. 

And then she ran. 

She didn't know which way she went. She just ran, away, away, away.

Away from him. 

She stopped when she reached the rail track. Her heart was still palpitating, her chest heaving. Perhaps a train was to come today. A train that would take her far away, much farther away than her legs could ever take her. 

For a moment, Beth wanted to throw herself in. 

That moment passed way too soon. 

Her knees gave way to exhaustion, to freedom and she crumbled. And that was when the tears finally came. No silent sobs, no hiding. Loud, she could be loud.

And there were a great many things she shouted at the sky, but they were unheard of by anyone but the ocean of blue and the dancing, frisking wind. 

Beth's hand found her way to her pocket. The ice was bitterly cold as she glared at the key in her hand. 

"A secret for me to discover." 

The key landed in the middle of the track as Beth heard a whistle. 

There was a resounding crunch of metal and all that remained of the key were splattered remains of deep gold, which painted the grey tracks. 

Beth wanted to pick up the pieces. She wanted to fix them, put on some tape and run back in his arms. 

That was when she ran. 

She had discovered the labyrinth's secret. All that remained now were empty tunnels. 

Thus, away she ran, a kite let free, to fly in whatever direction she desired.