Her Angel

The photo flipped and her hands traced the words on the back of it. A lump formed in her throat and tears prickled the backs of her eyes like bullets. This photo was all she had now, all she had of the memories that collided into a homemade movie of pictures and videos. All she had of the blonde hair, dark eyed smiling man who had adored her, who she had adored. She flipped the photo over again, she couldn't sit here brooding, but she had nothing better to do all day. Her hands trailed over the man's high cheekbones, his chocolate brown eyes. She smiled and as if the movement of her lips pushed her eyes, a tear rolled down her cheek, fat and salty. 

The words formed on her lips, and then cascaded out of her mouth like a waterfall. "I'll always love you." She read, her voice filling the empty silence with an echo. "No matter what happens, I'll be your husband and you'll be my wife." She swallowed the lump in her throat, it slipped down the passage and leant hard and heavy against her heart, like a stone, its jagged edge pushing into the flesh and tearing it in two. She'd never expected to lose him so fast, a year after being together, he got cancer. A year after their marriage he died. She wrapped her arms around him and she didn't let go, she didn't let go when she took him to the funeral parlour, she didn't let go when her heart soared and her eyes ran, she didn't let go when she watched them say things about him, lovely things that somewhere, somehow she hoped he heard. She didn't let go when the coffin was lowered into 500 pounds of earth and a tonne of soil was thrown on top of it. 

For months after his death she visited that grave, laid flowers at the sight of the burial, even a teddy bear. Now faded and missing a glass eye the teddy bear sat among the weeds and shrubbery, guarding her husband from the dominating nature that was threatening to consume her husband, consume his grave, consume her heart. 

She had never believed in the spiritual, ghosts and angels and spirits, none of it existed, but now an angel was looking down on her, and she couldn't love that angel more. 

Her eyes grazed the ceiling of the room, and for a moment she begun to imagine looking straight through that roof, straight through the fluffy white clouds and the smokey blue sky, to where her husband sat, smiling down at her, with comfort in his eyes. 

She imagined the words on his tongue, the promise that she could move on and be happy without him. The promise that she could fall for another man with his blessing and not with his hatred. 

Once upon a time, they had danced, they had sat down with drinks and discussed love, the way every couple does. He had pushed her hair out of her eyes with the tip of his thumb and had laughed at her smile, her face all lit up like a city in the darkness. He had smiled and promised her one thing. "if anything ever happens to me." He said slowly, calmly, whispering so the whole world didn't hear. "I give you my blessing to move on." She had laughed at the time, laughed and grabbed his hand across the white tablecloth, she had stroked his palm with her forefinger and promised him that nothing would happen between them, they would grow old and happy together. 

Her eyes found the mirror on the other side of the room, she looked tired, pale and worn out. Her eyes gave way to dark rings and smudged mascara, her lips had grown bumpy with teeth marks and blisters. She barely recognised herself under the dark limp hair. Once upon a time her hair had been black, black as the night, but now it was limp and more like a mousey grey colour. She shook her eyes from the mirror, her hand curling around the photo once again. Then she slid it into the plastic wallet and sighed, giving up was the easy part, moving on was harder. She would go out tonight, like her friends suggested. She'd get drunk and see where the night took her. 

If it took her to the edge of a cliff then so be it, if it took her into another man's arms, even better. She slid the plastic wallet into the drawer, with the rest of her husband's belongings, her fingers skimming over old forgotten birthday cards and batteries, sticky tape and screws. 

She got to her feet, circling round the bed in one swift movement, it was as if her feet didn't touch the floor, as if she was gliding silently along the soft carpet. Her phone pinged, embedded in the duvet like a stain. She ignored it and reached into her wardrobe. Once upon a time she would have worn dresses, skirts, tights even heels. Now she pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt with the name of some kind of cartoon she'd never seen, she'd found the t-shirt in the corner of the charity shop, and he had told her she was beautiful. 

She picked her phone up, turning the screen in her hand and gliding her thumb across the lock screen to see her home screen peer back at her. Two smiling faces, a man and a woman, the man's eyes turned away from the photo, glaring at something in the distance. She laughed, almost remembering that night. It was her sister's wedding, the day when he first told her properly that he loved her, she wanted to capture the moment, but it was the same moment that a fight broke out, and they were both distracted. It was her sister who had introduced them, an angel, it was a demon who had torn them apart. 

She pushed through the door and let the cool air of winter hit her, sending red blushing across her cheeks and blue across her lips. It had been Autumn a while ago, but Winter had crept in unnoticed, and filled the air with a chilly breeze, covering everything in a white frost. 

It wasn't far to the pub, a few minutes of stumbling down the road, flashing a tiring smile at the bus driver and pressing her oyster card into the yellow pad. She sat, at the back, tucked away into the corner. 

When she got off the cherry red bus, the pub stood there, tall and proud in front of her. They had laughed, they had danced, they had drunk. They had seen this pub as their local pub, their go to place for drinks and time together. The pool table stood in the middle of the room as she pushed open the olden day brown doors and walked inside. Her friends were sitting around the table, they looked at her as she entered. One of her friends flashed her a smile, waving her over. She would move on tonight, she would stay with her friends and if love was on the table, she wouldn't fight it, not anymore. She walked towards her friends and sunk into the middle of the hustle and bustle, already finding herself enveloped in the conversation, almost as if she had never gone at all, never stopped communicating with her friends, never stopped going out with them. 

She looked across the table, there he was. Smiling at her, nodding with comfort in his eyes, blonde hair, dark eyes. He would watch her carefully, he wouldn't let any harm come to her, he was her angel, and she couldn't love him more.