He's Coming Home

Home - Chapter 2

Esme's P.O.V.

"Breathe, Esme," my mother whispered into my ear as I fumbled with my clutch purse I held by my side. "It's going to be fine."

I stared at the cold concrete, wishing, somehow, it would fall from underneath my feet and let me disappear forever, but I knew, unfortunately, such things weren't possible.

"What's the time?" I asked absentmindedly, still staring at my feet.

"It's half past 12. Now will you please stop fidgeting?" I looked up through the veil covering my face and my soon to be tears, staring at my mother. She held so much confidence.

"I can't do this," I whispered to myself. My mother must have heard as she grasped my hand in hers, rubbing soothing circles across the top to calm me down.

"Yes you can," she replied a little forcefully.

I concentrated in her face, not acknowledging Charles' parents who were stood next to me. I couldn't bear to look into their faces when I knew what they had created was my dream's destroyer.

Everything was going blurry around the edges as the imaginary clock in my head continued mocking me with ever tick it took. "I have to sit down," I mumbled.

My mother father shot me an unconvinced look and I shrank away from the intensity of his hostility, finding comfort in the nearest bench possible. I sank down on the bench, letting the gravity of the situation finally crush me.

"Esme?" I lifted my head reluctantly. Couldn't I just be left alone? It wasn't who I expected it to be.

"Mrs. Evenson?"

"Are you okay?" I studied her lined face; we left weren't alone very often and I didn't want to give the wrong impression. I shook my head slowly and a soft smile graced her lips. "Do you mind?" She gestured to the space next to me and I nodded.

"It's just," I began, "overwhelming." She took my hand, resting it on my thigh.

"I understand," she agreed. "I just don't know what he's going to be like."

I stared at her from under my lashes, not letting us come into eye contact.

"I don't know how different he will be." I breathed out, shakily; not realising how long had been holding my breath for. Her tone was uncertain which undoubtedly alerted me. Did she know what he was really like before?

"I've heard how war can change a man," I concurred. "It scares me to know what horrors he could have seen that might have changed him." Her grip became tighter. "But I will love him nonetheless, for he is my husband and there is no boundary in my love for him." I felt sick saying those words, but I couldn't just throw my facade away.

We sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence after that, our own fears ebbing away at our hearts. Would he be worse or would he have been changed for the better?

The soft chugging of an engine sounded in the distance and I felt a cold sweat break out across my forehead as chills ran down my spine. This was it, this was the end of my independency.

"They're hear," Mrs. Evenson whispered.

I managed enough strength to look her in the eyes. They were the same as Charles', but kinder, more...trustworthy. They were brimmed with tears, reflecting my own uncertainties.

"Come on." I held her arm, helping her up as my mother and father, along with Mr. Evenson, moved to the platform where the train would soon be stopping.

"Thank you, dear." I smiled slightly. "I promise, Esme, everything will be fine." She squeezed my hand once more before letting it go and walking over to her husband. She knew...

I let it process in my jumbled mind as I walked over to my mother's side. She wrapped an arm over my shoulders, her rough hand rubbing my arm.

"You alright?" I nodded, lies coming back easily.

"Help me through this?" She kissed my hair and that was all I needed to know. "Thank you."

The train in the distance got unbearably closer. Time seemed to slow down. The horrendous noise of the train station became a buzz in the background as the blur of black travelling towards me became more detailed. Everything moved in slow motion and I closed my eyes tight, leaning into my mother for much needed support.

Hold it together Esme. You've come this far. Don't let yourself slip now.

The train became larger and the noise became distinctively louder once again.

Goodbye freedom.

The black beast slowed before coming to a complete stop. No-one seemed to breathe until the doors opened and the first of many men piled out of the carriage doors. There were cheers and tears and unlike other people, no noise came from my mouth. I just stared. Stared at the blur of colours in front of me, stared at the children running over to throw themselves into their father's arms and stared at the darkness that symbolised my future.

For a moment I thought the letter had been my imagination. Charles wasn't coming home, and although that sounded crass, I couldn't describe the hatred or feeling of oppression clouding over me.

I was wrong once again though, and as the crowds dispersed, only one figure remained. He had long hair; it fell just below his ears, but not touching his shoulders. His weight was supported by a walking stick and a huge bag was slung across, what I assumed, his good shoulder.

I gulped back my invading tears and forced a smile onto my face.

"Charles?" I questioned, uncertainly.

His answering smile was the only thing I needed to see, that smug, sick to the stomach smile.

I walked towards him, slowly, he imitated me. He limped awkwardly on his damaged leg and so I sped up, not to keep his and my family waiting.

Every step was growing heavier and it suddenly felt as if I had lead shoes on.

Our bodies finally met and my skin crawled as our bodies touched one another.

"I hope you haven't been playing around, Esme," he whispered into my ear as he placed a kiss on my cheek. "I will find out if you have." I closed my eyes, knowing not to answer. He smiled into my hair. "That's a good girl." He dropped his arms from my body and I did the same.

"I'm glad you're home," I said, numbly.

"No you're not." He replied low enough so no-one would catch it but me.

I let the first tear escape that would sure enough be the start of the floodgate that would follow.

He walked away, leaving me empty inside, greeting his mother and father, along with my own. They all threw themselves into his arms as I watched on from the sidelines.

And it was true, no-one, except me knew who he really was. Maybe that should have scared me even more, but it didn't and now all that was left was to take things as they came. Good or bad.