AROUND THE HEART IN 80 DAYS

Eight

Toothbrush in mouth, one shoulder rested on the door jamb connecting the dining to his living room, ankle crossed, he stood.
As was his daily routine.

It will forever be so hard to believe. How can someone be there one second, gone the next.
Why did everybody not see what he saw?

His eyes looked on and on at the three meter height portrait of his beloved, the image being the boldest of the other petit ones he had stylishly decorated over his home and over his life.

Through the months, he had constantly asked himself why a perfect creature - so perfect, so wonderful - could leave the world as quickly as possible. Left everything behind in a moment. Maybe that was how the best things always disappeared.

Rebecca, Victor, they'd both said he practically worshipped Mariana and her 'sacred shrine'  (which was simply the portrait photo) and needed help.
How was it insane that he respected someone's memory? He sighed and pushed himself off the wall. It all gave him a headache, like every single day had its own different headache.

He wished on his very being every damned day of his life that she would return or that someone would say it had all been a dream. Perhaps someone could shake him some morning, and then ask him why he'd been asleep for so long. That Mariana was worried about him.
It wasn't so much to ask.

He had always been frail and so carefree growing up, so open to everything that centered on life and joy. His love for his German sweetheart had shackled his being in ways he would never explain. They were one. He had never felt so part of anybody in his life. His sister said she babied him and that was his attraction, Mariana's deep full care and love. He would not deny it and he absolutely loved it.
She must have been sent from heaven above. Or maybe not. If she had, why would the same heaven claim her back? Damn the cancer!

And now, he had to get ready for work.
Oh, fuck it! That place was starting to irritate his very depth. Business was undoubtedly good, sales were manageable okay, not as good as Herman would have liked though.
But the constant feeling of betrayal welcomed him like food on stove.

His reasoning travelled back in the span of the happier years that had existed before the two terrible years he'd just witnessed.
He was loved, his dark humour was received with admiration. He'd lived meticulously, even adviced Herman, bagged clients efficiently, he'd contributed greatly to the winery's gross profit, and even if he could shamefully agree that Garrett did as much as he, never in all his years did he think he would be second best. After everything?

He went to farms himself to oversee the work of the farmers, he kept up with every single process down to the bottling. He was a necessary presence when walking clients through Herman Schwartz's wine cellar. He had even gone as far as to be involved with the construction department for the progressing restaurant development. So why he was not at the top was still baffling to him.

That very morning, he had a meeting with the Viticultural Ministry of Jerusalem. Herman had managed to secure a merger deal with the farms in Galil for their Cabernet Sauvignon at a reasonable price. And he was present when contracts had been signed. HE was present.

Not Garrett.

But of course, Mr. President could sit his back down and appreciate the growth in the profit when Cabernet Sauvignon had been added to their vines.

Only if someone could point out what he had done in the past life to deserve the sudden downward spiral.

Edrei stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind him, some sort of addition to the seclusion he'd recently found comfort in. Hot water from the shower pelted into his hair and slid down his lean form in separated water lines. He smiled at the feeling. These moments he liked best and wished it could last forever, the scent of soap mingling with fresh steam and creating a misty sensation in the closed space, condensing every glassy surface in contact.