It would always be him

It would always be him!

In life and in death it would always be him.

She slowly adjusted the straps of her evening gown and sighed softly as she ran her fingers over the satin material and smiled weakly at her reflection. “He loved seeing this dress on me”, she thought to herself.

 “It brings out the honey color of your eyes” he would always say to her, she wished terribly that she could hear him utter those words again. She sat at her vanity and ran her fingers over her lipstick display, bringing her fingers to a halt over a matte black case, “Cherry red lipstick for tonight” she said to herself, as though it was not the only color she adorned her lips with on this date for the past four years.

This was the easiest part of the evening, gliding the lipstick over her pouty lips, with the knowledge that this color would have driven him crazy. She smirked in the mirror after the smooth application, smacking her lips together and giving a curt nod of approval to her reflection before she walked out of the room and headed for the stairs.

She made her way down the wooden steps and sauntered to the bar for a drink, this was the hardest part of the evening, the part that broke her apart, piece by piece.

The living room of the apartment they shared had been cleared out to give room for a makeshift dance floor. It was one of the things they both enjoyed doing, no matter how tired they were, he would spin her around the living room till she felt dizzy with happiness, and her laughter bounced off the walls of their apartment. They would waltz to the music and soak in each other's presence. It was one of the things she loved, one of the moments she held on to, and it was one of the things that broke her apart.

After downing the whiskey, she poured out for herself, she put on the center lights and headed over to the record player to put on their song. As the record whirred to life, filling the room with music, she tucked away a strand of brown curls behind her ears. She glanced at the clock on the wall, it was a few minutes past ten.

She turned and smiled at him, soft and fond, yet her eyes held pain.

They screamed sadness, the pain in them a stark contrast to the smile on her lips. She closed her eyes as she placed her hand on his shoulder and held onto his other hand, she gingerly rested her hand on his shoulders as they swayed to the music, they did this every night.

The only difference now is that there was no longer spinning that resulted in dizzying happiness, there was no longer a waltz between them, it was now just a soft and gentle sway, it was romantic and terribly sad.

If you walked by their apartment and looked through the windows, the sight would leave you confused, because from the outside looking in, it was simply a woman in an evening gown dancing by herself, but once you heard her story, once you heard the tale of how her lover was snatched from her by the cold and wicked hands of death, your heart was bound to break for her, and before you realized it, your own tears would flow in sympathy.

Without fail she seemed to do this every year on their anniversary, swaying slowly to the same song, in the same dress, with the same heartbroken look on her face. And if you asked her, she would tell you she was alright, she would tell you he was truly there, he was just harder to see than most, she would put the record on and wait till she heard their song, and every night she would dance with his ghost.

If you asked her why, she would tell you this …

“I do this because for me, it would always be him, in life and in death, it would always be him for me”.

Time flew by and soon, the clock struck twelve as the chime rang, a tear slipped down her cheek. Their anniversary was over, she stopped swaying and wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. She held in a sob as she walked to put off the record player, only to realize that the music has long since paused. She turned to the clock on the wall and realized that it was no longer ticking. Emotionally exhausted, she paid it no mind and headed up the stairs to their bedroom. She walked into the bathroom after she took off her dress and jewelry. She turned on the shower and let the cold water rinse away her tears.

She stayed crouched on the bathroom floor until her fingers turned to prunes and she was forced to step out of the cubicle. She pulled a robe over her naked form and slipped under the covers, as she reached her bedside table to turn off the light she noticed the clock beside it, just like the one downstairs it had stopped ticking, she furrowed her brows in confusion and turned off the lamp. “I love you Jean-Paul” she said out loud, “I know that you’re out there, somewhere. I just miss you so much” she choked back a sob. “I don’t know how to deal with this” she continued. She cried hard until her eyes felt heavy,  and eventually she gave into sleep.

As her eyes flutter shut,  the left side of the bed dipped and pale hands caressed her cheeks. “I love you so much Evangeline” a voice whispered and feather light kisses were peppered across her skin, “You need to let me go” the voice whispered, and as soon as the words were uttered, the bedside lamp is flicked on and the clocks start ticking.

A lone tear makes its way down her left cheek. It would always be him for her, in life and in death.