Waiting

The wind railed is sick raspy gusts. Branches shooed her away by scraping the sides of the little house.   Rain slapped the windows; trying to push her back in to the center of the room.  Marla paced, wringing her hands and plucking absently at her nails. She ripped the night apart trying to see him. Her eyes wide with concern; almost panic. The shadows of worry darkened her usual gentle face.  It was too late at night for him  to be out.  "Where WAS he?"  her mind shouted. Nights like this were dangerous; the weather was treacherous. She paced another lap around the dining room mashing the carpet a little more into a little racetrack. She wanted to go out and look for him; find him. This feeling pulled at her and made her belly hurt.  She would go back to the window and scan some more, unable to actually heave herself out the door. Worry scratched at her brain.  Headlights from other cars teased her heart.  It leapt with each new set climbing into view.  Finally the beams turned and crept toward the house.  Chills raced over her skin. She hovered at the door like a puppy but still he did not come in.  She waited until he got to the door then the rush of relief and love washed over her and she dashed for the door..

He drove around for hours, trying to avoid the inevitable. Despair fell from his lips in long sighs as he caterpillered his hands along the steering wheel : bump. sliiiiide. bump. sliiiide. His eyes were burning and red from lack of sleep; again. Would it ever end? Could he stop it? Donald sadly found his way home.  The light was on. He sat in the drive and tapped the wheel nervously, muttering words she wouldn't listen to. His feet felt like anvils as he dragged himself toward the front door.  he knew she was waiting. He barely got the door open and saw her rushing toward him.  He stiffened as she tossed her arms around him.

"Do you have any idea how LATE you are? Why didn't you call? I was worried sick!"

"But here I am-" fatigue and pain clung to his voice. "No need to call." this last statement came accidentally and he regretted it. He saw her slump, wounded.

"I was ready to go and look for you." she started again, her voice trimmed with anxiety.

"You did..." he trailed.

Marla paused looking confused. "What? What are you talking about? Donald, I've been waiting;  pacing the house  forever."

"No Mar.  You didn't. You left."

She looked at him blankly. "Donald." she half laughed "That's just not.."

"Marla." He sighed heavily. "You DID leave.  You were upset. You drove around looking for me, calling my cell.  You  were so angry Marla.  You were yelling at me. I told you I was almost home."

He watched her thinking. This was almost painful for him. "You panicked Mar. You ran a red light."

"Stop." she whispered. Color drained from her face, she squirmed feeling weak and sick inside.

"You ran a red light and hit a car. Mine." in his mind, he heard the metal bending, groaning, twisting around her.  His scalp tingled recalling the shower of shattering glass. The echoes of her screams filled his ears.  A tear spilled down his cheek.  They were coming less often now, but just as salty as that night nine years ago and grief choked him.  He turned and reached for her. "You hit my car Honey..."

"Shut up! Stop right now! That's not true Donald. I thought you were dead! I..." there was a sob that stopped her cutting the air like a knife.  She cupped her mouth, her voice melting away.

"No Marla. You are."

Donald reached into the mist and tried to give warmth to the cool sadness which was all that remained of her.