A reflection of the past

It wasn't an ordinary night. It was the darkest night of my life.

 Heavy drops of rain splashed on my car's windshield.

Howling strong gusts of wind accompanied by the loud thunder and the heavy rain

were the only sounds I heard when I drove on the road. The sky was a special kind

of blackness, the kind with few scattered

stars that sparkled with a strange flickering brightness. The road which was devoid

of street lights was enlightened by lightning from time to time. Not another car

in sight, I thought. Yet I preferred driving in this lousy weather than reach my

destination. I felt it was going to be a long night.

 After one long hour of driving, when I pulled over my house, only one thought kept haunting me; to go back somewhere where I was truly happy.

 I glanced at the dark grey two-storey Victorian house in dismay. It was once filled with laughter, happiness and peace. But not anymore. Tonight the house looked eerie, dull and unwelcoming.

 I took my red handbag, two heavy grocery bags and got off my royal blue SUV. It was difficult to walk with my heels on the path filled with mud and surface water. I hastened my steps to the damp front porch.

 Soaked by the rain and still reluctant to go inside, I opened the front door and stepped in with a forced smile.

 The sophisticated living room was cold, dimly lit and strangely smelled like jasmine. I hated that sweet flower scent. It reminded me of someone I loved deeply. Intrigued, my chestnut brown eyes closely searched the living room and saw the half-burned white candle, the dark green porcelain tea pot set with some scattered blood red rose petals on the table to finally rest on my tall husband who seemed occupied moving the two tea cups off my sight.

 “If someone ever told me that you, of all people on earth would drink tea at night, I would have laughed.” I paused and looked at my good-looking husband’s face, now irritated. In the dimness of the candlelight, his facial features looked dark, brooding and cold. “Since when do I have to account my actions to you, Isabella?” His blue eyes slowly examined me from head to toe. “You’re quite a mess, Isabella.” He pointed at my wet white dress plastered to my body, muddy nude high heels and long jet black hair hung around in ragged curls around my face which stuck on my cheeks. “How did you end up like this with an umbrella in your car?”

 I took a deep sigh and walked out of the living room in silence. Laurence followed me to the cream-colored kitchen, the two porcelain tea cups with its tea set in his hands. I placed the grocery bags on the counter, deliberately took my time unloading their contents, then lifted my face. My eyes glared at him in defiance. “My appearance isn’t my main concern right now.” I took one half-filled tea cup from his hand and showed him the red lipstick mark. “Who was here?” I asked. He lifted his eyebrow sardonically and smirked. “A woman obviously,” he replied calmly, his eyes mocking me.

 I glanced at him, stunned, not daring to know more. This can’t be happening again, I thought.

 A long moment of silence reigned and I deliberately changed the subject. “I got a promotion offer at work today. It involved settling in England for a short term basis. The salary is quite high for a marketing associate,” I said cheerfully.

 He took a seat at the stone kitchen countertop and watched me closely. The kitchen, unlike the rest of the interior, was designed to be cosy, inviting with its cream color and neat appearance. At that moment, tension filled the air. It was an unsettling, menacing atmosphere. “And of course you accepted. You never think of anyone else.” He paused. “But I didn’t accept it,” I muttered but he wasn’t listening anymore. His jaw clenched in anger, he paced back and forth the small space in the kitchen in frustration. “You could have at least considered the fact that you have a five years old daughter.” His last sentence had the power to give me chills. I shivered with cold realizing my husband completely despised me.

 Still numb, I approached him and placed my trembling hand on him arm. He stopped pacing, his eyes gazing at me like I was a stranger... not his wife. “Laurence, our daughter is dead,” I said softly.

 Realization suddenly dawned on him. “You took everything from me; my position at work, my daughter’s life...” he accused.

 “Amelia didn’t die because of me. It was an accident,” I sobbed.

 “No it wasn’t. Your blind superstition killed her. Had you not told her to play inside because of that solar eclipse, she wouldn’t have tripped and fall down the stairs,” he insinuated with his firm voice. “You were too busy trying to steal my position at work to take care of our daughter.”

 “Don’t blame me for the death of our daughter when you were the one busy cheating on me with the maid instead of watching Amelia.” He stared at her in utter disbelief. “You’re still living with the guilt of the dark past, Laurence.” I caressed his face gently. “It’s time to let go. You already lost your job and your daughter. There’s still time for a fresh start.” Furious, he pushed my hand away. “I'd rather live in the past than with you, Isabella.”

 He bolted out of the kitchen, then slammed the front door leaving me in the cold house, alone.

 I took the used porcelain cutlery and from the kitchen window, I watched my husband go in the direction of our daughter’s tomb. Amelia was buried with the rest of his ancestors in that creepy garden cemetery. Just the thought of my beautiful daughter lying under that damp soil in the dark creepy garden cemetery made me shiver again. I hugged myself for a while.

The rain kept pouring loudly with a thin layer of mist covering the garden view. I knew Laurence didn’t care that he would be soaked too by the time he reached for his daughter’s tomb. He just needed to be away from me.

 Mechanically, I spilled the rest of the jasmine tea in the sink in total distaste when my eyes suddenly caught a faded reflection of a familiar figure which slowly disappeared to nothingness from the window glass.

Amelia.