Subject:  A Cold Wind |
Author:
Athena4
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 10:25:12 03/16/01 Fri
In reply to:
Athena4
's message, "A Cold Wind" on 10:24:01 03/16/01 Fri
It was cold. Unnaturally so.
Paul stood motionless on the shoreline, watching the docks rock unevenly in the waves. The lake was cold and silent, the tourists having long since gone home. The quiet was broken only by the slosh of the waves on the shore and the rustle of leaves brought into motion by the wind.
He’d been there for hours, staring out over the lake, savouring the cold. It let him know he was alive; it kept his mind from drifting to places it shouldn’t….
When he closed his eyes and let his mind go, he could imagine her there, standing behind him; arms wrapped around his chest, head resting against his back. It felt like home, her warmth protecting him, her voice a whisper on the wind.
Too bad it was all an illusion.
Paul shivered as the wind picked up, shoving bare hands into his pockets. It struck him again, and he hunched his shoulders against it, refusing to give in to it’s force.
God, he missed her.
Turning to gaze down the shoreline, he allowed his mind to drift once more, and he saw her. Long chestnut hair against a grey wool sweater, worn over faded jeans. She was staring out over the lake, a relaxed smile gracing her face. As he stared, a leaf fell to her sleeve, and she plucked it from the fabric, twirling it in her hands.
Paul blinked and the image vanished, replaced by the empty shoreline. The wind had long since moved on down the bank, whipping leaves around in graceful funnels before leaving them lifeless on the shore.
Sighing deeply, he stepped out onto the dock, walking to the end and turning back to stare out over the landscape before him. The cottage stood back from the shore, surrounded by trees, their now-bare limbs shivering in the wind. A bird flitted from one of the branches to the railing of the deck, and Paul’s eyes followed, noting with dismay the wilting leaves of the potted plant that sat at it’s edge.
Madeline would be disappointed.
Unbidden, her image appeared before him again. She knelt along the path that led to the cottage, plucking the remains of her summer flowers from the dirt. Smiling in his direction, she stood, tossing her gardening gloves down on the path and walking towards him.
Paul’s breathe caught in his throat. He could hear the crunching of the leaves beneath her feet. He felt the wind as it blew her hair back from her face, revealing a streak of dirt along her forehead.
Get a grip.. he chastised himself, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head to dislodge the vision. When he opened them again she was gone, a pile of leaves where she’d knelt by the path.
He shouldn’t have come.
He couldn’t bring her back. Yet he’d hoped that maybe she’d be here.
That she’d be here to say goodbye.
The wind picked up once again as he turned away from the cottage, focussing his gaze on the far shoreline. The waves beat at the bank, splashing up on the dock and soaking his shoes in their frigid cold.
They hadn’t said goodbye that night. If she’d tried, he hadn’t given her the chance. He’d been angry; angry that she’d consider walking away from what they had; indignant that she’d turn away and leave him for Charles Sand.
She didn’t love him. She couldn’t possibly.
But standing on the dock in the frigid cold, Paul had graduated from anger to acquiescence.
He didn’t understand, he probably never would. And he knew her too well to try and talk her out of her decision. All he wanted now was a chance to say goodbye.
Closing his eyes, he allowed the rocking of the dock lull him. In his stupor, Madeline appeared behind his closed eyes. She drifted on the lake in a canoe, a life jacket cushioning her head, one hand trailing in the water by her side. She laughed lightly as the canoe rocked beneath her, his own hand appearing over the side to tilt the boat.
A warm touch on his shoulder brought him around again, and he turned to find himself staring into her deep brown eyes. Astounded, he stood completely still; afraid to dislodge the fantasy that was before him. She was so close, so real. He could feel her warmth, even in the bitter cold.
“I knew you’d be here,” the figure said, taking a step towards him. “Come inside. It’s cold.”
The figure took his arm then, and Paul released a breath. She was real.
“You came.”
Madeline nodded, releasing his arm. “I had to. We needed closure.”
“You don’t love him, “ he said, his tone sharp, his eyes staring into hers.
She met him gaze for gaze. “What we had is gone, Paul. Charles and I are getting married.”
“I don’t understand…”
“It’s just not enough any more….” she whispered, her voice wavering. She sounded unconvinced of her own argument.
“If it’s not enough,” he snapped, taking a step towards her. “Why are you here?”
“To say goodbye properly. You deserve at least that much.”
“What – “
“Don’t question,” she stopped him, placing a finger on his lips and shaking her head. “Just accept.”
A frigid wind whipped across the dock, blowing her hair across her face. Paul’s eyes teared as it hit his face,and he turned away, closing his eyes against them. “I love you, Paul,” she began again, turning his face back towards her. “But I need something more.”
Releasing his face, she turned and walked off the dock, pausing at the base of the gravel path to turn back. “Goodbye, Paul.”
“Goodbye, Madeline,” he whispered as she turned back up the path.
A dull cold crept into his bones. The wind whipped around him; funnelling leaves on the bank and once again bringing tears to his eyes.
It was cold. Unnaturally so.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 