THE GRACE

As soon as his feverish head had hit the pillow he fell asleep, he didn’t know what wake him up, but when he opened his eyes he saw her, sleeping beside him at arm’s length. He had no idea when or how she got there. But there she was, like she never left. She had such an empyrean beauty that looking at her always made something move deep inside him, like all the jumbled parts of his sole had suddenly came in perfect alignment. All the other times of the day he was never there, he will look at something, but not be there, he will talk with someone, but not be there, and he will go to work, but not be there. His mind will wander far and wide, away from the realm of mundane reality, almost haunted by its imperfections, its incompleteness. But when he looked at her he was there. Still and whole his mind did not waver, it did not seek, and that’s what she was for him, completion. She woke up, and wasn’t least bit startled or surprise to find him staring at her, maybe she was used to it. She smiled and looked at him with such affection, that poets fill hundreds of pages in order to capture in words, and only capture a glimpse of it. There was a flash of anxiety on her face, somekinda foreboding.

 “It’s almost morning.” she said.

 He did not reply.

 “You know I have to leave in the morning right?”

He didn’t say anything, but gave a little nod of understanding. Having her so close to himself made him happy, but also ashamed, ashamed of the things he considered just before going to bed, the wish that it would have been so much better had he never woke up again.

“You can’t think like that” she said, expressions of her face suddenly become stern “what about your family?”

He looked at her half defiantly.

“What about my family” her voice loud and horrified “whom else do they got apart from you now?”

“I am sorry, I know I have to be strong, I know I just, it’s just, it’s so hard.” he stopped abruptly. “But I will be better tomorrow, I will, I promise”

She stared in his eyes with kindness pouring out of every last cell or her being. It was evident that no matter how hard it might be for him to live like that, it was much harder for her to look at him living like that.

 “I have to go now.” she started to get up

 “Stay!” he pleaded grabbing her wrist.

 “Ok, I’ll stay for a while”

He embraced her tightly, almost greedily, like he intended to absorb her in himself. At that moment he felt someone was whispering in his ear, “I’ll always be with you, even if everything ends, remember that, always” he woke up.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he wailed like a wounded animal.

“Why, why did you have to go” he shouted at her picture on the wall “why do you always have to leave” his voice broke down.

He could not sleep for rest of that night, and although he knew, that the sickness of heart and mind that has made a home in his soul will come back again, to inflict, to torment, yet he somehow knew that he can face it, that he can overcome it, he knew it now, he was not alone, he will never be alone.