Left and Leaving

I saved up what I could in that old paint pail for as long as I could, until its weight started to bend the shelf, that was when I decided it was time to put my plan in action. I left a note on the table where she would see it, and waited for her to arrive. She wouldn’t be off work until close to five, but that was fine. It gave me time to prepare.

She arrived at the restaurant at half past six, dressed up and looking confused. The maître d’ took her aside as she entered, and showed her to a table at the center of the room. A white tablecloth covered the small round surface, a single red rose in the vase at the center. She sat down and glanced around the room, seeming oddly out of her element.

After a moment, I walked over and sat down opposite her.

“How did you afford this?” She asked, seeming worried.

“Don’t worry. This is my treat.”

“But we don’t have the money for something like this…”

“We’re fine. Besides, this seemed the most appropriate place to do this.” I said, rising from my chair and bending down in front of her.

Her eyes widened in realization as I removed a small box from my pocket and opened it before her.

“Nimble Breeze, will you do me the hon-“ I began, but before I could finish she had already attached herself around my neck yelling “Yes yes yes!”

The wedding was small, with only a few attending. We couldn’t afford to put together a huge event, and didn’t have that many to invite aside from family. It didn’t matter to us whether it was a massive procession or just the two of us alone, we were together.

She kept the promise we made that day. ‘Til death do us part. She was good to her word, and even when I infuriated her with my reclusiveness, she never left.

I’d like to say things changed after we got married, but they really didn’t. We continued to work, attempting to align our schedules so we could spend more time together. We slept in the same bed, just as always, we ate together as often as possible, and she continued to make me try new things. Nothing seemed to change, other than the knowledge that we had made a commitment to each other. It worked for us. I don’t think either of us wanted anything to change.

The lights in the hallway turned off, causing me to turn around.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was still in here. I was just about to close up for the night.”

It was the voice from before. An older stallion stood in the doorway.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay.” I said, turning back to the open casket.

“I understand. When you decide to go, just lock the door behind you.” He said, and walked away.

“When I decide to go.” I don’t think I can. It’d be like abandoning her. I sit back down in the front row and unscrew the cap on the bottle. I’ll stay here as long as I can. I can’t just leave her.

Just the two of us, alone again. It’s just like it used to be. We didn’t need anyone but each other, and we were fine like that. It was amazing how even when we ran out of things to talk about, just the presence of the other was enough. It was silence, but it was a comfortable silence. There was no need to fill the void anymore.

She used to sit in my studio, watching me paint. At first it bothered me, having someone watch over my shoulder when I worked, but after a while I found it comforting. She’d sit there silently, watching me turn a blank canvas into something new. The sound of her breath calmed me and I began to focus on it while I worked, my brush strokes matching the gentle rhythm. I don’t know how I’ll be able to work without it.

The silence is becoming unbearable. Other than my breath, there are no signs of life in the building. I try to stand up to look for a radio, or anything to make some noise, but my legs fail me. The whiskey has started to get the better of me. I realize I’ve finished a quarter of the bottle by myself.

I stumble over to the casket, my vision blurred, and peer inside. With my vision obscured by inebriation, she truly seems alive now. I kiss her gently on the forehead, and sit down in front of her wooden sarcophagus.

“I’m not leaving.” I say, as lie down. “I’ll be right here.”