Michael Gray- Mystery Man

epilogue

It had been one whole year since Anastasia's passing. Michael was still a mess. It was as if she died yesterday. Michael looked worse than he ever had. He couldn't even remember the last time he hadn't cried himself to sleep. A year had felt like an eternity to the widower.

Polly sat across from Michael in his empty house. Yet it was far from empty, it was filled with luxurious furniture and the big glass windows allowed the sun to seep through but it was empty without her and Polly could feel it. She picked up the warm teapot decorated with flowers and she gently held the lid, pouring the liquid into Michael's mug. He was barely concentrating, staring into space as his hands shook whilst he held the mug. Polly pursed her lips as she analysed her son, he was never going to be the same.

"I was speaking to Robert and he said you were more than welcome to come stay with us." Polly kindly offered. Michael scoffed at her words. "Forget Robert, I want you to stay." She leant over the coffee table as she held onto Michael's knee. He coldly moved his leg away from her as she sadly sighed. "Michael please, it's been ten months, you have to get over it. She wouldn't want you to stay like this. You have to move forward."

"I CAN'T!" Michael yelled at his mother as his cup fell to the floor, shattering. "Don't you understand that I can't? I would love to move forward, pretend my wife didn't die but she did! And it's all my fault!" He screamed as Polly swiftly stood up and placed herself next to her son. "Please mum, stop the pain." He cried into her shoulder as she held him gently, rocking him back and forward like he was only a child again. "Please." He whispered. "Help me."

That was one of the last times he saw his mother. He was hiding again, not attending meetings, skipping family functions; he even missed his own mother's wedding. He felt shit but this time was different. He couldn't cry anymore, it was if his body could no longer produce tears. The feeling of grief had given way to numbness. He was currently lying in bed, head against the pillow, shirt unbuttoned as he held a bottle of whiskey in his right hand, the glass slightly hanging off the bed. He allowed the radio to play in the background as it drowned out his headache. Drinking was his new best friend, we all knew he drank before but this new habit would beat Arthur and Tommy's drinking combined.

"And now, a classic I know we all love! Ain't misbehavin!" The radio spoke. He stared up at his ceiling solemnly as he thought about his wife.

Anastasia giggled loudly as Michael opened the door into their new shared room, he quickly pinned her up against the wall as she chuckled once more. He kissed her lips hungrily as he reluctantly stopped, pulling away slowly.

"This is it." He gestured towards the open space.

"Our new bedroom." Anastasia smiled. It wasn't very fancy yet but it was big.

Anastasia put on the record player, her fingers tracing along the vinyl until she put the arm on the disc as 'ain't misbehavin' played by Fats Waller. Anastasia tied up her hair as she picked up a paintbrush dipping it into the white paint. Michael stood daringly as he watched his wife paint their new bedroom. He watched closely as he smoked his cigarette.

"It would be a lot faster if you helped." She playfully rolled her eyes.

"It would be even faster if we hired someone else to do it like I said." Michael smirked.

"Every other room is being decorated by professionals, I just wanted to do our room together, I thought it would be fun." Anastasia explained as Michael smiled at her. She pouted as she fluttered her eyelids, Michael teasingly smirking as he leant against the wall, making no effort to move as he continued to smoke. "You leave me no choice Michael Gray." She quickly flicked the end of her paintbrush towards him as white paint splattered all over his black suit.