𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐔𝐬

Part 5 ~ Stained

Anika's Point Of View ~ 

"We fell in love and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has only happened once and that's why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I'll never forget a single moment of it." 

Nicholas Sparks said that. 

I whisper as I read it out to myself. But I don't think of my husband when I read this . . I think of someone else instead. Am I a terrible person? I feel that way. How could I not? Because I know it's not meant to be this way. It's not right how I am feeling, how I am thinking. I keep thinking about him. I keep recalling so much of him and when we were us. It's not right, I know this. 

But I just can't stop. 

I clear my throat softly, putting the book back in it's place on the shelve. I retreat, moving backwards slowly but my eyes remain on the book. I know that if I buy this book . . I won't put it down. I will continue to fall deeper and deeper into my past . . with him. Something I know I must stop. Because it's fiction like this, quotes such as the one I just read out that remind me of him the most. It's making me very aware that quotes like that won't appear just once in that book . . but throughout. I turn my head as I see grandmother coming towards me from the corner of my eye. She is carrying a handful of books. She always loved to read. For as long as I can remember, she had a book in her hand. 

"Oh Anika, there you are dear . . " She says. 

She puts the pile of books on a small table, located just behind me. I look at all of them. I pick up one book that is leaving me confused a little bit. I am just not sure why grandmother picked this book in particular. 

"Since when do you read horror books, grandmother? . . " I ask her. 

She pauses. 

I can see she is really thinking right now. This breaks my heart. She won't be able to give me an answer, I can already tell. I already know. My face turns soft as I look at her. My hand gently placed on her arm now. She looks at me . . her eyes beaming with confusion. 

" . . I don't know, Anika . . " 

"I don't read horror books? . . " She asks me. 

I shake my head gently at her. 

"You always said you never liked horror books, grandmother . . " 

" . . that you never will like them. You said it a few days ago actually . . " I tell her. 

Grandmother doesn't say anything. This makes me so sad. To see her like this is just devastating for me. She raised me. When I was a little girl, I thought of her as a super hero. And as I grew up, she was something as simple as my security blanket. And now, she is slowly disappearing. I feel so helpless. There is nothing I can do to help her. The only thing I can think of is just being here with her . . to look after her. Keeping an eye of her, if you will. Ensuring I'm here with her makes me feel better, somewhat. It's not a cure . . but it's something. 

"It's okay, grandmother . . " 

I say, picking up that particular book. 

"I'm going to go and put it back. Wait here for me . . " I tell her. 

The book is in my hand. My feet moving quicker than normal. Left foot, right foot. I find the horror section . . my eyes fixing on it. The book back in it's original place now. I turn around, back towards grandmother and she is just where I left her. She tells me she wishes to purchase the rest of the books she has acquired. Grandmother smiles, seemingly pleased with that decision. Making her way past me and towards the check out register. I smile at her. She is so funny sometimes . . so cute. My mind telling me, it echos throughout it. How my eyes know exactly what my mind is talking about as they land back on the book I put down earlier. I'm constantly telling myself not to but it.