To Lose Her Would Be To Die

He couldn't sleep. He hadn’t been able to sleep since she left him. Time didn’t matter. Day rolled into night. Night rolled into day. Nothing mattered anymore. Since she left him, all the glorious light in his life was replaced by a cold and unforgiving darkness. An unknown darkness. One that he was becoming fast friends with. A darkness he now depended on for survival. Anything carrying even a glimmer of light reminded him of her and the happiness they once shared. Only the darkness set him free. In the darkness, everything blended into one another. In the darkness, he couldn’t see what was really there. His tired eyes focused on their wedding picture, which stood on the bedside table. He could still make out the faces through the thick film of dust. He closed his eyes and the same memory played in his mind.

She came home with what she called “the forever frame.” She was so excited to put their wedding picture in it, and spent an hour deciding on a perfect place to put it. Then, like a little girl, she called him in from the other room to look at her masterpiece. She playfully led him to the bed and they made love. To this day the picture remained untouched. She was the last one to touch it and he wished to keep it that way.

He shifted positions on the uncomfortable couch he now slept on, wanting nothing more than to be back in their bed with her. The bed remained unmade. He couldn’t bring himself to even touch it since the day she left him. He even thought of burning it. The memories of that night again came rushing back, haunting him, taunting him, keeping him prisoner. He surrendered to the tears as he so often did these days. Through the tears he thought he saw her standing in the doorway, looking even more beautiful than he remembered. Dark silky hair splashing around her shoulders. Her swanlike neck and flawless pale skin. Her petite curvaceous body. And her eyes, her large, lucent blue eyes, shinning with an icy mesmerizing luster. Her scent was suddenly all around him and laughter filled the room. Her laughter. She was walking toward him and as he reached out to touch her the vision faded into blackness.

It wasn’t right. No. He was angry now as fresher memories of the last time they were together played on. The betrayal. The argument. The bitter tears. Running after her in the pouring rain, begging her to stay. To lose her would be to die, he thought. But she wouldn't listen. And then she was gone. No, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t’ right at all.

He missed her terribly. Her touch. Her smile. The taste of her lips. Her unabashed sensuality. The way she moved with such poise and grace. The passionate yet tender way she loved him. But most of all he remembered her loyalty.

How could she do this to him? How could she leave him? She promised to always be by his side. She promised to love and cherish him, through sickness and in health, till . . .

That was it. His mind was made up. He had to see her again, no matter what the cost. He quickly got dressed and ran out the door.

Sitting in the car he had second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It certainly wasn’t a sane one. He glanced back at the house and the idea of spending another night in there gave him that final push. He floored the gas and drove away with wild determination. There was no turning back.

Once he arrived he just sat there and waited. For what, he did not know. Perhaps to snap out of this insanity and head back home. Twice he started to go back out of fear but changed his mind. There was nothing to go home to. His wife was gone. His life was over. All the dreams they shared were gone. No. He would stay and play this through. He had to see her again. His body and soul were begging him to stay so he did. Taking a deep breath he grabbed the large plastic bag beside him and got out of the car. Willing his legs to move, he made it up the stairs and onto the well-manicured lawn. It was dark but he needed no light to guide him. He knew exactly where he was going.

There she was. He trembled all over. Seeing her was almost too much to bear but at least she was there. She couldn’t run from him now. In fact she could never run from him again.

Even the fresh flowers couldn’t penetrate the thick stench of death in the air. He slumped to the ground devoid of strength, breath, and courage. The bag he carried fell to the floor with a loud reverberating clunk. He was overwhelmed with guilt, unable to fully comprehend all that happened in the last three days. A week ago, everything was fine. Life was good - no, it was great. Life as it is now was unimaginable.

Pounding his fists into the ground he screamed, “She wasn’t yours to take, damn you.”

A heart-wrenching look fell across his eyes and then he said, “And for that I will defy you.”

Reaching inside the bag he took out a shovel and knew what had to be done. The soil was still fresh. After all, it had only been three days since . . . no, he refused to think about it. He’d come too far. Nothing would stop him from reuniting with his beloved wife.

In a blinding rage he started digging frantically. He had to move fast before he changed his mind. Flashes of that night came back like lightning...

He was working late and his wife decided to surprise him with one of her special dinners. When she entered his office he was fucking another woman. Walked right in on them. He was busted, plain and simple. What made it worse was that fact that he had no reason to cheat. No reason at all. He foolishly allowed himself to be seduced by his very young, and very sexy secretary. Getting caught wasn't even a thought. How could he do this to her? How could he have been so weak? For what, a lousy fuck? Look what it cost him? The memory played on.

Stormy night. Angry rain. Running after her. Rain coming down so hard he could barely see. He tried to talk to her, tried to get her to listen. She wouldn't. Her silence was the worst form of dismissal. The only thing she said was, “How could you betray our love like this?”

In a moment of desperation he grabbed her hand and said in cautious tones, “To lose you would be to die.” He searched her eyes for a trace of forgiveness but only pain and despair.

She turned to him and said, “Then I guess it is your fate to die.” and walked away.

After contemplating for far too long he decided to go home. There was no answer on the telephone. Maybe she wasn't there. Either way he had to find out. He cursed himself for thinking with his dick and not his head. Cursed himself for destroying what was probably the best thing that ever happened to him.

The house was quiet. Maybe she was upstairs sleeping. He crept into their bedroom and saw her lying on the bed. He let out a great sigh of relief. She hadn’t left him after all. There was still hope. But as he walked toward her an overwhelming smell filled the air and that's when he saw all the blood. So much blood. Her wrists were slashed. Fresh tears streaked her face. It must have happened only moments ago. He shook her, called out to her, but there was no response. She lay there lifeless. Wrapped in a scarlet cloak of death. If only he came a few minutes earlier. If only she gave him a change to explain. If only . . . If only's couldn't save her now.

How could she do this to him? How could she be so weak? For what? Look what it cost her? But weren’t those the same questions he had been asking himself just a few hours ago? He looked down at her bloodied body and her eyes were still open. It was hard to believe these were the same eyes that once danced so vibrantly with life. Now they were cold and hollow and dead. His head was throbbing. He felt like he was watching some bad horror movie, except it was the story of his life. All for one thoughtless act? He didn’t deserve this. He never meant for this to happen.

The shovel hit the hardness of the casket, bringing him back. He couldn’t believe he was going to see her again.

“Oh my love”, he thought, it won’t be much longer.”

It took all his strength but he got the lid of the coffin opened and there she was. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Like a sleeping angel. She wore her wedding gown upon his insistence. Uninvited images of her lying on the floor covered in blood flickered into focus. He shook the thought away and kneeled beside her. He touched her colorless cheek. Ice cold. He pressed his dry lips to hers and let them linger there for a long time, overwhelmed by shame and guilt. He carefully slipped into the casket and pulled the lid down. A small light went on.

He buried his face in her hair and cried whispering over and over again, “I’m sorry my love. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Finally he slept.

* * * * * *

The grave keeper looked at the open burial site.

“Those damn kids,” he said. “When are they going to leave the dead where they belong. Underground.”

He started to fill the hole. The sound woke him. How long had he been sleeping? And what was that noise? Oh no! Oh my god no. Please no. He started screaming and banging his fists on the cement lid. But it was no use. Suddenly, he was afraid to look at her. He didn’t want to be there anymore. Refusing to accept this fate he beat his hands until they bled and screamed until voiceless. But it was too late.

Defeated, he turned to her for comfort but she no longer wore the face of an angel. Instead it was more like that of a demon. Decomposed and crumbled with torn lips and eyes that were endless black holes. Raising her now skeleton-like hands, she wrapped them tight around his neck. He tried to fight back but couldn’t. She was much too strong.

In an merciless and monstrous voice she said, “To lose me would be to die, you said. Remember? Now embrace your fate as I did mine and die. Die. Die. DIE.”

Loud and bellowing laughter filled the space between them until he was able to hear no more.