𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐞

𝟎𝟑

["I got that summertime, summertime sadness."]

❦

I can't remember the last time I said her name out loud or to myself. I just know that I will never forget it, but it lingers on my lips with bitter taste and I would rather disregard. Yet, everything changes when I sit down at the table and her name is the only thing dwelling my mind.

It's something about the quill when I took it in my hand. The sensation is recognizable, distinct, and alluring. But nothing I would dare to think of. Even now, sitting in the same place, at the same time, with the same achievement, it still feels like the first time.

It's like it's the first time I'm writing to her.

Dear Maria,

You're familiar with what I'm about to express, yet that doesn't deter me from doing it once more. Over the past five months, this has evolved into a routine I cannot relinquish. Perhaps you're watching from above, perhaps smiling as I pick up my pen, worn and pathetic, to write to you just as I always do.

Your father passed away two days ago, and I sincerely hope you'll trust me when I say I had no involvement. I tried, my love; I tried to mend everything. The rest of your family seems to be holding up, at least as far as I know. Some still mourn you and Ivan, some have moved forward, and some can't come to terms with your absence. I fall into the latter category.

Each morning I wake up, yearning for you to be beside me – your hair scattered on the pillow, your arm around my waist. Occasionally, I muster the courage to ponder how you'd look today. I'm certain you'd be even more beautiful now. I miss your, but most of all, your smile, especially when it was made just for me.

If you're wondering about me, I'll say I'm "fine." That's the only word that somewhat fits my current state. I must boast that I haven't touched a drink in the last few months, but why do I still see you everywhere? I can even hear you – your voice echoes in my ears whether I'm asleep or awake. I sense your presence.

When I visited Lorenzo Mancini's house, I knew it was you urging me to save his children. At least I managed to rescue someone's children.

Marinka, I love you, and even though I know you'll never read this, I'll love you until my last breath. Because I promised you once – I am yours, and I soar freely with you.

Yours until you come back,
A.S.

❦

I touch the tombstone, feeling the cold running through my veins. I close my eyes and run my fingers over the hollow, feeling her name on me.

Here lies Maria Petrova
Beloved daughter, sister and friend
May she fly high

Rest in peace

They forgot one thing.

Wife and mother.

"They messed up again, didn't they, love?" I tried to chuckle, but only a deep and loud sigh came out. "I hope that our little one is not bothering you too much." Another failed attempt that ended with me on my knees, arms wrapped around the stone slab. "I'm so sorry, Marinka. I'm so sorry I can't take it anymore." I looked down at my hands, the same ones she saw the first time we met.

The black gloves that I can't bring myself to remove only tighten my fingers, making me unable to feel my skin. Yet, there's a reason behind it, isn't there? I haven't physically connected with anyone in the last couple of years, and the very idea of a psychic touch makes me shudder.

The cold breath left my mouth. "I tried to be better. I tried to make everything better, but you ruined me."

My fingers reached into the inside pocket of my jacket, pulling out a pure white envelope with a dark red rose seal in the middle. I put it down so that it rests on the cold stone.

As always, I give it one last kiss before rising to look at her.

Why did they choose this picture? The one where she's looking at the distance, her look empty and impenetrable, and her mouth just a line without a single curve. I liked her hair down before, but now is just like hay falling over her face.

I've seen better pictures – I've taken better pictures of her where her face was nothing but a perfection that couldn't be described with words.

Now she is just a gray speck on a gray stone.

I took one last look at the burial ground, making sure that the envelope was sitting as I had placed it. Even if I know it'll be gone in a few days, that doesn't stop me from bringing her letters every day as I sit on the ground repeating the same sentence over and over.

I could have saved them.

But you didn't say goodbye as you promised, and I still have that hope that one day, maybe, we will see each other again.

Maybe, in another reality, I would build a world just for the two of us, with no one around.

Just you and me.

❦