Loves Last Kiss

The page felt thin between her fingers. Thankfully, she could still make out the text. A dull ache nagged her hips and snapped her back to reality, forcing her to shift until she slid into the grove of the decrepit recliner. The cool touch of ceramic brushed against the thinning skin of her arm. Mara traced the swirling blue pattern with her fingers before nestling the vessel back into the blanket beside her, then returned her book. 

The dark-haired hero was about to tell the love of his life what she meant to him. John had always confessed his love to her through writing. A flutter of a memory flashed in her mind’s eye. His words were mere sounds in the distance as she ignored his chatter and remained focused on whatever book had currently caught her attention. She wished she could remember what was more important than her husband reading out loud the words he had put on paper that his tongue lacked the grace to say without the pen. 

Another memory trickled in. Warm soapy dishwater covered her arms in delicate bubbles. She smiled as the soft glow of the morning sun spilled in through the kitchen window and caressed her face. The scent of his shampoo altering her to his presence before she felt the strength of his large hand on the small of her back and the sound of his towel falling to the floor. 

Seized by grief, she became a prisoner of her body while her memory played out the details of his love. Mara’s heart twisted and held her breath hostage as an ocean of grief welled into a wall of pressure behind her hazel eyes. The sound of rain beating against the tin roof triggered the next scene. 

No one had seen it coming. Mara had been curled up with her book and called “bye” as she heard him approach the door. It had been hot and sunny, and she barely noticed when the sky blackened. The beating of the rain grew louder now as the memory of that day continued to flood in. 

Trapped in the pages of her book, she hadn’t noticed the deluge that dampened the day, nor had she noticed it was almost nightfall and John still hadn’t returned home. She was nearing the end of her book when a knock on the door reminded her of reality. 

“Hello are you Mrs. Smith?” 

“Yes, I am” the presence of two men in wet uniforms alarmed her. 

“There’s been an accident and we regret to inform you..” the rest of his words faded as she watched the man fumble awkwardly with still dripping hat. 

More pressure built as she recalled the frenzy of sorrowful loved ones and casseroles that filled the following days. 

“Did you at least kiss him goodbye before he left?” 

Her sister had always been well meaning, but her words, as usual, had lacked delicacy. “No, I barely remember saying goodbye.” 

“I can’t believe you’re not crying. I would be sobbing like a baby.” 

Mara had no response, but this comment haunted her, adding to the torrent of suffering that stole the light from her days. For 25 years he loved her like she was the only woman on who walked the Earth. She had spent most of their marriage with her head in a book, and now she couldn’t even cry for him. 

She would give anything to go back in time and relish the feeling of his fingertips as he brushed the hair from her cheek, or soak in the softness of his lips as he kissed the curves of her neck. Alone with nothing left of him but a vessel of ashes and his confessions of love hidden behind veils of fiction on the tattered pages of his books. She wished she had kissed him goodbye. She wished she had spent more time consumed by in the strength of his arms. She wished she had been present in the moments when he showered his affection on her. 
Depleted by her mind’s harassment, she let her eyes fall back to the page. 

I find myself continuedly surprised by you and the power you hold over me. Like a charm that flickers from behind your eyes and casts its spell on my thirsty soul.

For the hundredth time today, Mara had read that line. Her soul felt parched, as if being constricted by guilt and grief had caused it to wilt. It craved the love that flickered from behind the eyes of the man she had neglected to be present for. 
Regret and sorrow filled her to the brim. There was no relief from the relentless pounding pressure of her thoughts. She yearned to feel the gentle touch of his fingers on her soft skin and to see the way his love for her danced in a devious smile before a kiss. Her heart cranked again, wrenching her into submission as the dam cracked, releasing a single tear. Its hot moisture leaving a trail from the corner of her eye. Mara tasted the salt before of it before it fell. 

The brackish droplet soaked into his words, spreading the ink as it stretched between thirsty and soul. 

The urn shook as its swirling blue pattern waltzed to life. Shocked by the movement, Mara startled, knocking the vessel to the floor. Shattering on impact, his ashes scattered and in a cyclone of dust, John materialized before her. 
Staring in disbelief, Mara watched his face take shape and, as his brilliant blue eyes emerged, she recognized her sorrow within them.
“John, I….” 

He put a finger to her mouth, then he pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues tangled in the passion of their last goodbye. Mara let the world slip away until there was nothing but the two of them and a kiss. Slowly, his lips turned to dust as the wind carried him away. Hot tears covered her face as she whispered, “I love you”.