Mari James by S.R. Wilks

Home

My head felt heavy with exhaustion. It was close to being drunk, I was glad to have Mari's hand in mine, it was the only thing holding me up. I kept catching her staring at me with worry in her eyed. I figured I must look different, uglier, dirtier, older. 

The war office thought I was twenty-four when really I was just eighteen, a fact I often found myself forgetting. 

If I were more awake I imagined I'd have been more surprised by how much everything had changed in six years. Mostly, things were smaller, shops in the town were boarded up and the paint which had once been new had faded. 

I felt numb about everything but Mari, the only way I could take my eyes off her was if I shut then. Even beneath my half closed lids, I kept my eyes on her. Every so often, she'd turn to look at me with worry in her eyes. 

In the early morning, our village of Carlton Colville was like a ghost town. Day or night, it was always a quiet place the only sound being the rushing of waves. The beach was a five-minute walk from here. 

The wind that rolled off the ocean was fresh, cold and it woke me up immediately. Mari nearly plowed over when I stopped walking. The road we walked along was void of vehicles, the gravel made sounds under our shoes and poked painfully through the holes in mine. 

I let the air blow through me, it felt as though I were being cleaned by it; purified. Every fiber of me wanted to just lay on the sand until the waves rose over the top of me. 

"Come on," complained Mari, pulling on my arm. "I want to go home."

She was pale, I noticed, opening my eyes fully for the first time. Her wide brown eyes darted around nervously as well, so I pulled her towards me. Feeling her body press against mine only made me more awake, more aware of where we were and what was going on. 

My eyes seemed to sharpen, focusing on every detail of Mari's face. It was easier to forget she wasn't my wife than you might think, we'd known each other for so long, adored each other for so many years. It seemed like the obvious step, for now though, it felt like an unspoken agreement.  

Mari smiled, her teeth straight and white, she was the cleanest, most perfect thing I'd ever seen. 

"D'you think you could convince Milly to leave us alone," I said, feeling a breathless happiness rise in my chest. 

"I doubt it," said Mari, not looking at me as a blush rose in her cheeks. 

My reply rumbled in my chest as I pulled her even closer. The feeling of being physically touched was alien to me, alien but completely heavenly. 

At first, it was almost like the first time we had kissed. Her mouth on mine was hard, unyielding, then I put my arms even tighter around her and pulled her against me. Her lips softened beneath mine, and I felt the rapid beating of her heart, taste the sweetness of her lipstick. 

She wound her hands into my hair, pushing my hat off my head and sending it rolling across the grass. Pulling her hands down she reached to cup my face. 

A rumbling in the sky made me freeze, her hair- like silk- on my fingers suddenly became invisible. I could hear nothing but the sea and the air and the rumbling above my head. Fear gripped my throat as Mari pulled away from me.

Distantly, I heard her ask if I was okay. I couldn't answer, there were no words in my head for me to answer. 

The plane was green, its propellers were a blur as it passed overhead. The sounds of it pressed on my shoulders like a weight and I felt myself go cold. 

"Come on," said Mari, her voice a whisper though I knew by her face that she was shouting. 

"Let's go home." 

Blindly, I let her drag me by the hand. 

Her house had gone unchanged, a little cottage with a white front door. I knew from being inside it that it was barely big enough for me to stand up in. The light that flowed from it's four lead-lined windows was warm and inviting. 

When she opened the door, a delicious heat floated out. But it was quickly dampened by the sight of Milly, Mari's Mother. She was dressed in rollers still, her nightdress was covered by a silk robe I had only seen her wear a million times before. 

And in her arms, she held a baby. 

Almost immediately, Mari started to cry. 

There was something wrong with my ears, over the ringing in them I couldn't hear a word that was shouted between them. Mari's face was red and her eyes were flooded with tears, a stream of snot ran from one nose as it always did when she was especially upset. All I wanted to do was put my arms around her and drag her into the other room -except- I couldn't take my eyes from the baby and the baby couldn't keep its eyes off me. 

It's pale, pudgy legs were longish, he had to be at least three. Not a baby, really. 

The word span around me then and I felt my mouth begin to water, I knew that feeling and couldn't do anything quick enough to stop myself from being sick all over Milly's antique rug. 

"He's not ready," I heard Mari say, her voice cracked and wobbled as she bent over my head. The hand on my forehead was cold, damp with sweat. 

"Can you put him in the other room please," she sniffed as I threw up again, feeling a numbness spread over my face.