Always and Forever

Clara

Peace. She was in a space of pure, blissful peace. Sitting on the porch swing, pushing her bright pink flip-flops into the broken wood of the deck to propel herself back and forth. He was smiling at her from the lawn chair he sat in. Shirtless and shoeless, he smiled at her. That’s how they stayed together for practically the entire evening. Quiet and contempt, just grinning stupidly at each other. His dimples popped on both cheeks when he looked at her. She noticed every wrinkle and crease of his scarred face. Every freckle, every forehead line. The way his gray eyes seemed to pierce her body, reading every feeling, emotion, and thought she possessed. He was a perfect gentleman, she thought. Every morning he woke her up with breakfast in bed, coffee, and a kiss on the cheek. Then he would put on a suit and tie for work, and she would blush at him and tell him how handsome he looked. She stayed at home all day keeping herself busy trying not to think too hard about how she missed him, trying not to let him distract her, but of course, she couldn’t help herself. He invaded her every thought, every waking moment and hour of the day her mind would drift off and think about him and the way he was and the way he made her feel. Sometimes she would get embarrassed about how obsessed she was with him. It made her feel like a young naive teenager again. This was different and she knew it. This was real, this was important, and this was worth dying for and living for. She wasn’t like her girlfriends, who wore a full face of makeup every day around their husbands, and dressed all fancy-like when with them. Clara knew John didn’t care if she didn’t brush her hair in the morning, and didn’t expect her, or make her feel obliged to spend an hour carefully and strategically applying makeup, or feeling the need to miss breakfast to spend the time straightening her hair. Instead, she woke up with her hair in knots and frizzy, her face puffy and red, and mostly just wore his oversized shirt around the house. He would take one look at her in the morning, and just chuckle while kissing her face. John would run his fingers through her hair, teasing out every knot. While this may seem like a fairy tale, Clara knew it wasn’t. They had their fights of course, mainly over money and stupid little things, but John would always listen to her, tell her his perspective, and in the end, they would end up rolling over in laughter over how “dumb they sounded.” Sometimes Clara’s friend, Jenny, would sarcastically ask her when John would stop “babying her” and “grow up” because they were “adults now” and had to “act like one.” Clara would laugh with Jenny about this because she knew she would never understand. Tom, her husband buried his head in his laptop all day and could barely mumble a good morning to her. Clara sometimes felt sorry for those around her, as she felt almost certain that they would never know what she got to experience every day. They would never know how safe she felt in his arms when they cuddled. She would lie on his chest and he would wrap his strong arms around her and whisper promises in her ear, his hot breath tickling her. The promises of always and forever. He swore to her he would never let her go, no matter what. Sometimes he made her cry, her tears dripping down his bare chest. John always knew the tears were a good thing. He had made the woman of his dreams cry happy tears. He would feel his heart clench and then would squeeze her tighter. Clara’s world had never been perfect and she knew this would be how it was. Always. 

John

Every morning when he woke up, John would say a little prayer thanking whoever was out there for Clara. Now John wasn’t religious but knew he had scored with Clara and had never met anyone quite like her. There was something about her that made him feel flustered and he got those stupid little butterflies in his stomach when she looked at him with those eyes. She would look up, bat her eyelashes, and the corners of those beautiful, full lips, would turn up. She smelled like peaches and flowers and when John hugged her, he made sure he took in all of her. Her smell, her touch, the feeling of her long hair tickling his arms in case he never got to feel it again. He memorized her like he might never see her again. John never wanted to forget Clara. He wanted her to feel like she was the most important and gorgeous woman in the world because when John looked at her, his breath was snatched out of his chest. Every day with her was like the first day all over again. The feeling of being out of control, the feeling of being so stunned by her, his breath getting taken from him, the inability not to stop staring at the exquisite woman in front of him. John remembers so clearly the first day they met, it was like it had happened yesterday. He had been at a frat party in university, sipping on his beer, when he saw her. She wasn’t like any other girls at the party, wearing skirts so short they left no imagination. Shirts that were so tiny they shouldn’t even be considered tops. Instead, Clara was wearing jeans and a cream, knitted, sweater. She was standing in the corner biting at her painted fingernails, scanning the room assessing, and reading everyone's movements. He was lost in a trance instantly. John thought soulmates were stupid, to be frank, but when her eyes locked on his, he was on cloud nine. His heart leaped up in his chest and his palms started to sweat, and as she started to slowly walk up to her with those long, slim legs, his throat dried up and he was at a loss for words. They talked for hours that night, and everything around them seemed like a blur and it was as if they were the only two people in that room. Slowly, two became one, as two hearts intertwined. They didn’t leave each other’s side for three days straight, and John felt like he would never be sad again. Never feel unsafe, never feel lonely, and never feel lost. He had found his home and he never wanted to leave. John’s favorite memory of Clara was when she was gardening in their front yard, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, and her nose was scrunched up in concentration, as she dug up dirt and carefully placed her rose bush into the ground. She was on her hands and knees not worrying about the dirt and the bugs crawling up her sleeves. Their whole house was surrounded by a fortress of plants and flowers. Roses, tulips, hydrangea, marigolds, and begonias to name a few. She looked absolutely beautiful, he thought, sipping his wine, and staring at her through the window. John knew this was how it would be. Forever.