In the darkest part of my darkest moods, near where the heartache searches for solace, sits a beautiful moment. It sits in that place because that place is where it belongs. It deserves to be clutched in my arms, and there, next to the fear, just behind where tears start, is where I sit.
Alone on my bed… wearing only a teddy, a trace of his favorite perfume, and my anticipation… I’m waiting.
For that moment, Eric was mine. Wrapped in each others’ embrace, our panting chests tightly clutched together, he slowly subsided within me and our mingled warmth trickled and cooled between us on the sheets. He turned his head to stare out the motel window resting it on my shoulder.
“I don’t want to go, Babe,” he said dreamily.
My nose was used to the light scent of his Old Spice. The smell of his sweat found its way through to tickle my lungs, and I pushed closer to hold onto what was left of our passion.
“It’s only for eighteen months,” I whispered to the wall. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
His arms squeezed me ever more tightly. “Save this spot for me. When I get back…”
The be-be-beep, be-be-beep of his wristwatch alarm interrupted my assured promise of never-ending sex.
He pushed me off of him and was back in his uniform, practically before I could even pull the covers up to shield me from the window.
“I love… you…” I sighed to the closing door. A few seconds later it opened again. Eric raced across the room to grab his cap from the window sill. He skidded to a stop, stepped back to peck one last affection on my lips, and he was gone.
That was eighteen months ago. Today is the day Eric comes home to me. I’m sitting here alone on my bed, in my teddy, waiting for that promise to be fulfilled, the promise I never heard. I saved that spot just as he asked. But Eric’s not coming home. So I sit here with my naked moment, near where the heartache searches for solace, and listen again to the last words he ever heard me say.
“It’ll be over before you know it.”
© 2012 Anne Schilde