Lives Well Lived

               Amelia Dansel never left her home. No one ever traversed near her home either, which made her life of solitude easy. Townsfolk told stories of her and her quaint abode. Stories of the wretched Lady Dansel and her unsettling dwelling. Stories of odd noises in the night that would flood down the streets into ears of sleeping citizens. Stories of a bone chilling breeze that coiled tight around daring passerby. It seemed no one had but a single positive utterance about Mrs. Amelia Dansel.

               Her life indoors had little variant. Every evening, Lady Dansel would perch herself atop a mahogany bar stool that she had acquired many moons ago at a flea market. Positioned to face her living room window, she would sip away at the fermented tea she loved, and gaze at the street below her.

               The night in which this tale takes place was rather unpleasant in its’ start. Lady Dansel gained quite the satisfaction from people watching those walking to-and-fro on the street below her house. However, the street was near empty that night. She thoughtfully noted a young girl in a flowery green dress walking her small dog with a smile. An elderly man leaning upon a battered metal cane, carrying a bottle of dark liquor, walking slowly towards an old, disheveled apartment building. A mother and her two small children walking hand in hand contently. Other than that, the street shown little activity.

               Disappointed in the night’s observances, Mrs. Dansel began to gather herself for an early retreat to bed. One last look outside…. And she froze. She felt her hands begin to quake; her muscles slowly tighten; her breath painfully leave her lungs.

               This can’t be so.

               But it was.

               I thought he was dead. B-but, there he is. Right in front of me. With that… that horrid smile. I thought the last visit would truly be the last... he's so old now..

               Inviting him in was the last thing Lady Dansel desired in that moment. But she had made the mistake of ignoring his presence before. She would not make that mistake again.

               She stiffly opened her front door and beckoned him to enter with a shaky hand. Turning and resuming her position atop her ragged stool, she waited. The man took his time climbing the steps; entering the house; closing the door behind him. For what seemed like an eternity, they simply looked upon each other’s faces. His disturbingly wide smile never faltered. It was him who broke the silence.

               “Why, Amelia. It doesn’t appear that you’ve been doing particularly well,” he said with the deeply routed southern twang his voice always held. “What have you been up to, darlin’? Still barricading yourself in your own pity it seems.” She stared at him in silence, but with a look of hot rage.

             Finally: “Why are you here, Daniel? Haven’t you done enough damage to my life?” she spat furiously. Her voice shook and her eyes watered, but she fought tooth and nail not to break. Not in front of him. She wouldn’t let herself.

               “Damage? Amelia my sweet lady, any damage incurred upon your life was of your own doing I assure you. If you so badly wished not to see me, you could always move and disregard the task of informing me where you are going. That would solve the issue of my visits, wouldn’t it dearest?”

               Her eyes burned from the acidic tears she fought to contain. She spoke quietly now. “You are well aware that that is not an option for me.”

               It seemed his smile widened at that. “Oh yes, silly me. It appears to have slipped my mind. You know what they say about people as they grow older. Our minds won’t stay fresh forever.” A few minutes passed in silence once again. Amelia now held her gaze towards the ground, refusing to look at the man who ruined her life. He casually leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of her. “I am rather tired and think I’ll be retreating home. I look forward to seeing you again darlin’. You look as beautiful as the day I married you.”

               She finally looked up and into his eyes. His dark brown eyes that now were surrounded by wrinkles sprawling out across his face like tree roots. The skin of his tan face hung a bit lower than in years past. His short beard was more salt than pepper it seemed now. The one part that never morphed was that smile. Amelia gazed upon that smile and felt sick, for she knew the secrets that smile held.

               Daniel politely tipped his head and strode out of the front door.

               Lady Dansel watched him canter down the street, and when he was far enough away, she exploded in a waterfall of tears.

               The Lady cried for hours in that spot. Once it had seemed as though her body had no more tears to give, she went to her bathroom to clean up for bed. She kept a small table for toiletries next to her sink. This table was also the place where she kept the only memento from her marriage. A photo. Her and Daniel on their wedding day. He had so "graciously" gifted it to her during a visit a few years ago. She didn't know why, but she kept it.

               She stared at it for a moment and thought back to that day. She thought about the feel of her luxurious silk wedding dress on her skin. She thought about the delicate taste of her vanilla wedding cake. She thought about the drunken man who approached her as she went to the restroom after the wedding ceremony. Indeed, it was actually one of Daniel’s cousins who was known for being a struggling alcoholic. Lady Dansel was frazzled by the event but shoved him off and ran back to the crowd in a hurry. She hadn’t known that her new husband had caught wind of the event from one of the guests. To this day, she did not know who, but it was obvious that the encounter had been spun in such a way to make her appear unfaithful. She had no clue why someone would do that to her, but it had happened nonetheless. Her wedding had started as a dream, and ended as the most horrific of nightmare.

               That night, after the partying and people-pleasing, Daniel and Amelia Dansel went home as planned. They undressed and thoughtfully caressed each other as husband and wife. Little did Mrs. Dansel know, that was where the pleasure would end.

              Looking now at her wedding photo was a stab to her heart. She reverted her eyes to the mirror and gazed upon her reflection.

               “You look as beautiful as the day I married you.”



               Indeed she did. Not a single factor of her appearance was different, although her wedding took place nearly 40 years ago. Her face and body still shown the youthful Amelia Dansel. But her heart told who she really was. The victim of a falsehood. The victim of mistrust. The victim of a life cut short.