This is my home, complete with the sun-bleached wooden floors and the dirty storm windows. It’s old, but it’s peaceful, you know? It’s just an old house that transformed slowly into a dream escape. It is our escape. Well… it was.
It didn’t take you very long to move another woman into our home. You didn’t think I would notice, did you? She’s beautiful. Skin glowing like a summer sunset, eyes reflecting crashing waves, and hair perpetually damp with salt water. You caught a fucking mermaid. Okay, maybe not… but she is gorgeous still. A siren lacking a tail. Who knows, maybe she hides that part of herself for only you.
I still watch you from a comfortable distance. I know it’s over between us. I still feel the sting of the goodbye… I’m really not sure if I’ll ever get over it. That’s why I keep an eye on what used to be our sanctuary. The one you now share with her. I wonder… does she really understand what this place symbolizes? This was an investment for our future! This was where we were going to build our life together, raise children, grow old. This was our home. And now it belongs to you. I’m trying not to be bitter, really. It’s just hard to move on. So, I watch.
She makes you coffee every morning. I wonder when she’s going to realize that you don’t actually like coffee? Yeah, you tolerate it for the caffeine. But you have always been a tea man. That is one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. You always knew exactly what you wanted but would tolerate if need be. Then again, maybe your tastes have changed. Maybe I was wrong and you always did like coffee. It’s hard to tell while I watch you take a long sip from a black mug. I’ve never seen this mug before. It must be new. Funny, I don’t remember buying dishes. It’s just one of those things that are handed down from family or gifted. Was that mug gifted to you? Probably. I can’t picture you ever going to a store and deciding to buy a plain black mug to drink coffee from. It just seems so… mundane.
You two chat at the kitchen island while you drink your coffee and she leans over next to you, still dressed in a tight little tank top and nude colored panties. I can see what attracted you. Her body is beautiful, but aside from that, she clearly has such a way about her. The way she moves, and speaks, and how her face brightens when she laughs. No, she isn’t a mermaid. She is starlight personified. The way her muscles move beneath that glowing skin, the tapping of her pink fingernails against the granite countertop. It is no wonder you chose her, hell, I might have chose her myself if the roles had been reversed.
You usually go off to work and she spends the morning doing yoga and then leaves to do whatever it is beautiful women do. When I’m sure you both are gone, I find a way inside and make sure everything is okay. I make sure the coffee maker is turned off and blow out any candles your beautiful starlight mermaid left burning after her yoga routine. I check to make sure the house will survive another day despite your carelessness before I go about my own daily routine. Then, I’ll drop back by later, once you both have returned. Just to make sure you get home safely.
She’s commented a few times all ready about how she has an uneasy feeling. She doesn’t like staying at the house alone after you leave for the day. She says it’s creepy. Hmm. Creepy. It’s just an old house, nothing creepy at all about it. I guess even starlight mermaid sirens are superstitious. I can hear you laugh and tell her that there’s nothing wrong with the house. You even prove it to her by letting her know that you’ve installed cameras to keep an eye on things while out and about.
She asks to watch today’s footage. She swears she had forgotten to blow out her lavender and sage candle in the living room this morning and that it was extinguished by the time she came back this evening. You humor her by taking your phone out of your pocket to apparently pull up the video feed from the app. A few minutes of silence go by as you tap here and there on your screen, and then I hear surprised mumbling.
“I… I was not notified. I didn’t get any alerts about this. Maybe my sensitivity is set too low…”
“This is freaking me out! What do we do, call the police?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why? You saw that! Obviously someone was in our house!”
Our house. What a laughable little slut she is. This is my house. This has always been my house. The mere fact that you are here was based solely by my choice. She is there just by circumstance. You just look at her as if she is crazy, because deep down you know the truth. You know that it was always supposed to be you and me together here, to build this home and spend the rest of eternity at each other’s side. You still love me. The goodbye was only temporary. The Goodbye is always temporary.
Days, weeks, and months dwindle and fade. Summer sunsets turn into winter twilights. I still watch, and listen. I still yearn for you to reach out to me again. I still keep careful watch over the home, to protect what we built together.
And one day, when my hope was actually beginning to wane, you did indeed reach out! I watch as you climb on the chair to reach the board hiding just out of sight on top of the book case, exactly where you had left it nearly three years prior. It was covered in dust, but you quickly blew it away as you set it on the table. The siren was long gone at this point. Better off in some heated pool somewhere. Mermaids don’t fare well in cold, sparkling snow.
You press your fingertips to the planchet, as you knew well enough to do. You timidly ask for protection and then nervously proceed. I place my hands over yours to give guidance to your questions.
“I know you are still here with me… I know you have to be. Please, let me know that you are here!” you cry, and I move the piece to YES. I can feel your heartbeat, only inches away from me. It races as we speak together for the first time in years.
“I miss you so much. I don’t know if I will ever move on. As long as I stay here… it’s like you never left. Are you still here? Are you still here with me, Gabby?”
Oh no. You just had to say the name. Defeated, I push your hands to NO. Your face contorts into confusion. I don’t blame you.
“If… if you aren’t Gabby… just who are you?” I move the piece to each letter of my chosen name. After that, you tell me Goodbye again. After a few days, you are gone. You move away. I will never see you again.
Just like that, I have my home back. I feasted on bittersweet memories of a youthful couple and a sickly young lady who passed from this world entirely too soon. Sometimes it is easy to become caught up in the fairytale and make believe that I truly could be a poor departed soul. Especially when the heartbroken spouse is so eager to hold tight to a supernatural connection. I suppose in a way, I did become her for a little while. She did adore this home nearly as much as I did.
Be it a white lie or a starved truth. Sometimes even Energies require a plaything to pass the marching of time.