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MARIE TWIDDLED HER HAIR IN A SEEMINGLY ABSENT-MINDED WAY. The intoxicating smell of smoke and whiskey lingered in the air as she wiped the bar.
It was late at night. The bar had closed and was vacent, the only sound that was heard was the sweet singing of Marie.
Lifting her gaze she spied John Shelby entering through the doors, his usual peaked cap resting on his head and stick hanging from his mouth.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with the kids?" She smiled, her dimples showing.
"Pol has them for the night. God, I can't do it." He murmured into his hand.
"Can't do what John?" She questioned calmly, not wanting to distress the young man anymore than he already was.
"The kids. I just... I try my best, you know? Still not good enough though. Fuck, what kind of father am I? I can't even look after my own fucking kids." His eye were glazed with unleashed tears.
She always understood the significance of things, why hurtful comments hurt and why insults from other people could wound so much. She was that listening ear, the one who would wrap John in her love just with her soft face and kind words. If he were to be half as good as her he will be proud.
"John, my love..." She trailed off, her empathy beginning to show.
"You are a great father. Listen, any fool can have a child. That doesn't make you a father. It's the courage to raise a child that makes you a dad." She whispered while playing with the fine golden strands that rested upon his head.
"A dad... " She began. "A dad is someone who wants to catch you before you fall, but instead picks you up, brushes you off, and let's you try again. Someone who scolds you when you break the rules and shines with pride when you succeed." She smiled.
"Your a great father John. And I know all those rascals on Watery Lane think so too." She giggled, placing both her hands on the sides of his face.
"You'd make a good mum." He told her smiling at the thought of her being the step-mother of his children.
"You offering to make me one?" She winked and laughed. That glorious laugh that John fell in love with.
When she looked at him it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from his lungs floating into the air like midnight smoke. Every time she held his face between her hands it felt like she was untying all of his knots. Holding him for eternity in the arms he had grown so accustomed to. John knew this was what falling in love was like, a story you never wanted to end. For so long he had longed for it, and now he couldn't bare to lose it - lose the thing that made him feel so complete.
