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"HOW'S MARTHA?" MARIE ASKED, fearful to break the tranquility that had now settled between them.
"She's dead." He replied taking a sip of his whiskey.
When speaking of Martha, John felt the kind of sadness that seeps into your bones rather than explodes in a cascade of tears like he felt when Marie left. He was sad for all the fun times he had thought they were still to have and would now never share. He was sad for his children who would never grow to love their mother. However, he wasn't sad that she was now at peace.
"John..." Marie released a shaky sigh, stunned at the news of the young lady's passing.
"I'm sorry." She told him, the remorse being felt through her words.
"Don't be. It's not like you killed her." He huffed a sarcastic laugh.
"No not for Martha's death. I mean, yes...yes I am sorry, but I'm also sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for leaving you behind."
He looked her, one hundred fleeting emotions passing through his eyes. Pique. Woeness. Endearment.
"Hows the little one?" She questioned trying to lighten his spirits.
"The little four you mean?" He smirked.
"God you were busy!" She stated, realising a small laugh.
John then began to join her. Sander laughs echoed in the pub. It’s a sound neither had heard in many years and it’s a sound they would wait another thousand to hear.
John then began to lean close, their breathes mingling.
"I missed you too bloody much, you know that?" He whispered
"I missed you too." Her lips curling upward.
In that moment of contentment Johns world collapsed - where there was shadows became light, the pain coming and going like waves on frigid sand. The smile that graced each of the old lovers faces was enough to say...
