The Reunion Of Matthew And Rosie

     The Reunion of Matthew and Rosie

                           By CT Milroy

   The snow was soft underfoot. The first fall of winter had announced itself just a couple of hours before, and was still falling with silent enthusiasm as Matthew stepped beyond the threshold into the night’s chill. After settling his grip on the soft powder, he closed his eyes, and lifted his face to the sky, smiling as he allowed snowflakes to delicately land upon his head and shoulders, all the while filling his lungs with the cold and purifying air which gave him the energy to start his journey.

   This was the day he’d been waiting for.

   The moon was full and bright, illuminating the snow covered land for as far as he could see.

   Yes, this was the day.

   Oh, god, how he missed her.

   He’d thought about her every day since he last held her in his arms. He thought about the last time they made love, and how they lay in bed for a whole day, entwined, giggling, and satisfying each other with sweet declarations. As he paused in that moment, he vividly remembered that beautiful Summer’s afternoon, and the feel of her small and firm breasts pressing against his chest as she whispered in his ear. ‘I love you.’ she said. Like it was the first time those words had ever been spoken by anyone on Earth. He couldn’t wait to hear that voice again. No other sound that caressed his ears could match the effect it had on his heart. Soon, he would hear it again.

   He would begin his trek by following the trail that would lead him to the small wood through which he would have to pass to reach his destination, and one which he quickly realised he would have to follow from memory as the snow had covered all trace of its existence.

   He surveyed the massive wintered field which lay before him, not caring that he was about to destroy it’s perfection with his footprints. These kind of things mattered little to him. To him, perfection was ugly. ‘True beauty lies in imperfection.’ he would often say, to which some would respond with a puzzled look, and others with a smile.

   And so, he started his destruction of nature’s blank and pristine canvas with a single step.

   And then another.

   And then with many more as he headed towards the small wood.

   All was white in front of him as he marched on into it’s glow. Every now and then he would break his laborious trudge to look back at the cottage, and check the distance and angle in order to make sure that he hadn’t lost his bearings. Eventually, the sight of his home faded beyond the flurry. From that point onwards he kept his head forward, looking for other markers. Markers like the standing stone which stood proudly silhouetted against the grey of Miller’s Hill, or the black water of the pond where the marsh tern would gather at the tail end of summer on their yearly migration. Both looking alien in these conditions. Now confident that he wouldn’t stray from the path, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to her.

   In his mind he returned to that golden afternoon when they last made love, and recalled the feel of her delicate sleepy breath on the base of his neck, and of skin touching skin as they wrapped themselves together ever so close, lying in the after effects of a moment so shamelessly innate and innocent that it made them feel like they were man yet boy, woman yet girl. Wild and pure together. Content in their oneness.

   She is everything to him.

   Ploughing on through the quiet chaos, he kept his eyes alert till he saw the wood emerging like a ghost through a misty mirror. The entrance looking like its mournful mouth lamenting about a past grievance never to be rectified.

He’d passed through its gaping entrance a million times before. In darkness, and in light. But, as familiar as he was of this place, and as familiar as it was of him, he knew the lords who ruled over it were always suspicious of his presence.

   The trees here were dense and tight. An orgy of leaf, thorn and wood. The twisted roots which had broken free from the suffocating soil would trip him at any given chance, and it seemed they would shift their position when no one was looking.

   He entered into the darkness where the moonlight found it difficult to cut through the trees, and where the wind didn’t blow. The thick snow on the ground gave way to damp, slippery moss, and every step had to be thought out carefully. Feeling his way with his hands and feet, the blackness around him conjured hallucinations of false paths, and he was forced to rely on his instinct to get him through.

   Tension felt close.

   He sensed that all the creatures in there were holding their breaths in unison. Hiding and watching. The trees creaked with the weight of the snow on their canopy, and every now and then, a pile would plop to the ground, and startle a resident who in turn gave away its position amidst its panic. Each time, Matthew would freeze, and allow the silence to settle once more before slowly edging his way forward.

   This was the only way to his beloved.

   Slipping and pausing, tripping and falling, and with many scratches from clutching on to the wet branches and rough bark, he pushed his way onward till he saw the faint light of the outside, and finally, he came out of the trees.

   He stood at the foot of a small hill, shielding and straining his eyes to the top, trying to force his vision through the white. He couldn’t see the lonely whitebeam tree under which they spent many lazy summer evenings watching the sun retire from the day beyond the horizon. But, he knew it was there.

   He turned up the collar of his coat, and buttoned it to the top, half hiding his face from the cold, then gripped his arms hugging himself to keep the warmth in, and began the climb up to his destination.

   ‘This is my favourite tree,’ he heard her saying as she gazed up at the tiny white blossoms which fluttered in the breeze. Always watching over their love. He pined for a return to those days when they would lie in its shade, and try to catch those pretty little flowers - the ones that got so excited by the passion below them that they couldn’t hold on to the thin branches any longer, and would let go, twirling and spinning, dancing to the ground. He smiled as he thought about one particular afternoon when many of those petals found their way onto her head, and snuggled in her blonde locks. She was unaware of how beautiful she looked that day. And he didn’t tell her. This, he kept for himself.

   ‘This is our tree.’

   He steadily made his way up the hill. Tiring, but focussed and determined, keeping his head down into the wind which had picked up with the elevation.

   After a while, and still grasping his coat tightly around him, he looked back down the slope, away from the wind. Judging by the distance back to the small wood, which he could barely make out, he figured he must be almost at the top, and so turned his face to the brow of the hill, and into the wind which stung and bit at his cheeks.

   He saw the whitebeam tree now, naked of flowers in this season, but still with a pale hue due to the snow. As he approached, he tread carefully and slowly. The incline getting slightly more steeper the higher he climbed. As he got close to the top, he slipped momentarily, forcing him to steady himself with his hands on the ground. The cold instantly numbed his fingers, so he blew life back into them as he got back upright and trudged on towards their tree.

   And there she was. Waiting patiently.

   Upon reaching her, he wiped the snow from the top of her tombstone, and ran his fingers along the grooves of the inscription to reveal her name.

   ‘I’m here, Rosie,’ he said with a smile. ‘Please forgive me for taking so long. It’s been over fifty years since I last looked into your eyes, but we will get to hold each other again soon. I can feel it. The same disease that took you has finally come to take me.’

   The freezing wind blew hard on his face, and his exhausted body ached. The words in his head were just a mumble in the mouth.

   ‘Oh, Rosie...’ he moaned. ‘My sweet, sweet love. I’ve missed you so much. Every day since you left has felt the same. Black and empty. But, not today. Today, I smile because I know this is the day we will be together again. My heart is weak, and I’m coming to the end.

   ‘I’ve lived a long life, Rosie, and I’ve been a broken man for much of it. At first, when you left, people looked upon me with pity. And then, as time went by, they started to look more with derision and contempt as they slowly started to forget you even existed. And I don’t blame them. For years I wore a face of anger and bitterness which I directed towards them. All furrowed brow and serious lips. That was wrong of me. And I know you would’ve been disappointed had you seen my behaviour. But, I couldn’t control my emotions. Does that make me weak? A lesser man because I couldn’t control my feelings? That’s what losing you did to me. When you died, I wanted to die with you.’

   The relentless attack of wind and snow caused him to shiver uncontrollably. As he stared at her name, a vision of her smile appeared on the stone as the first tear wandered into the cold. A tear of loss. A tear of pain and anguish. Of utter desperation and desire. A tear of the purest love.

   ‘Fifty years! Fifty long years I’ve held you in my thoughts, and not in my arms. I’m desperate to see you again. To touch you. And to kiss you.’

   He ran his sleeve across his nose, and forced a chattering smile, momentarily being aware of the pain and fatigue that demonised his entire weakening body.

   ‘I remember at first your touch terrified me. It caused a sensation I’d never felt before. But, I quickly started to crave it, and I crave it still to this day. I feel so blessed to have experienced a love like that. A love that is beyond words.

I don’t know what happens after this life. Some say we will meet again. And I tried to believe them...I need to believe them. But, in truth, it’s not belief that I have. It’s only hope. Hope is all I possess. The hope that they are right has stopped me from grabbing the noose on so many occasions.

   They also said I will love again, and to try to love again, but how can I? I love you, Rosie. Only you. I can’t abandon what we have.’

   His breathing shallowed, and became even more of an effort as the sickness twisted its grip even further. His shoulders slumped, and he shivered furiously.

   ‘I’m weak now. But, I was strong once, and will be strong again when you come to greet me. Do you remember when I carried you into our home for the first time? You held onto me so tightly. I can still feel your hands clasped around my neck. You were so beautiful that day, and we were so happy.

   ‘You are everything to me.

   ‘I love you, Rosie.

   ‘I love you.’

   His eyes slowly closed, and his whole body shook as the last little pieces of life began to escape. His weak legs buckled, and he collapsed onto his lover’s grave.

   Slumped on the freezing ground, and with his final delirious thought, he felt her arms come up through the earth, and embrace him tightly. He smiled one last time as he drifted away into the black of unconscious nothingness.

   His shivering stopped.

   His breathing stopped.

   Then his heart stopped.

   And the snow continued to fall...