tagNon-EroticNaked Grief

Naked Grief

byshandal©

Part of a series of short stories with the common connection of 'Naked' placed in various sections on this site.

Some of them are funny, some are sad, some are quirky but all reveal the many facets of human emotion in all its naked rawness.

If you like this one, please read, Naked Revenge under the exhibitionist and voyeur section, and watch out for Naked Fear and Naked Ambition, coming soon.


*

The face that stared back at her was poignant, so like her, but unlike how she saw herself. Where was the carefree beauty that she had been? The one that could turn heads, that men admired, that gave her confidence, which had defined her personality.

Gone with the years.

Ground down by marriage, mediocrity, worry and time.

Looking into the reflection of her mirror she noticed the smear on the surface left by the cleaning polish from this morning. Reaching up she wiped absentmindedly at it, her mind wishing she could wipe away the years as easily as she could wipe away the mark upon the smooth surface.

Wipe them away and start again. Start afresh.

A small smile broke upon her face, and her eyes rose back up to stare at herself. Eyes that once were deep green and sparkling gazed back dull and faded. Skin once firm showed fine lines radiating from each corner, and dark shadows deepened the appearance of sadness that hovered over her now day by day.

These were once eyes that he told her he could drown in. Eyes that would flash with every quick emotion she would feel. Laughter, love, anger, passion. But now they stared out dull and flat, much like her life, much like her soul, the colour and the luminosity washed away with her dreams by reality.

Closing her eyes to the woman staring out at her from the mirror she sat still, listening to the loud silence echoing around the house.

Children gone, an empty nest. The clamour of the vibrant noise that once inhabited the now silent home had left with them as they made their own way in the world, their own lives, and their own reflections to stare back at and wonder in other mirrors, in other places. Just not here anymore.

Sighing she opened her eyes and looked down at her lap.

Last night had been like all the others, at least until that dreaded statement that had thrown her life into disarray. Those few small words that had echoed around her world just as the silence echoed around her home.

Standing suddenly as if the sudden movement could wipe away the memory she walked into the bathroom, gleaming white tiles surrounding her, clinical and clean and breathing in the gentle scent of sandalwood and lemon she sat on the side of the bath and cried.

"I'm leaving you...."

Three small words, they said so much.

"I'm leaving you....."

He had said them in that bored voice that she had come to recognise and expect.

"I'm leaving you......"

After twenty six years.

"I'm leaving you......"

He had found someone else.

"I'm leaving you......"

He no longer loved her; she had become old and boring. Eyes no longer making him drown with longing when he looked at her.

"I'm leaving you....."

He had packed a bag of things, a small bag of things as if he wanted to take as little of possible to remind him of his life with her.

She looked down at her hands, nails short and unpolished. When was the last time she had bothered to paint her nails? Last year? The year before? She couldn't remember. Would he have stayed if she had taken more care?

"I'm leaving you........"

When was the last time they had made love?

Made love.....the quick couplings that it had become over the years was not love. Unsatisfied and unfulfilled the lack of affection, of any human emotional connection in the fumbled acts had been as routine as their lives had become. Where was the white hot heat that they once had, when all that mattered was to touch and feel, to give and take, to drown in each others veneration?

Gone with the years, ground down by life.

"I'm leaving you........."

She stood and walked back out to the mirror on the dressing table, the one where she had sat only minutes before and standing sideways looked at herself. Placing her hand upon her naked tummy she frowned. Still slim her belly was only a little rounded; her breasts still small, her back straight, her legs long and lean.

"I'm leaving you......."

Opening the drawer she removed the small bottle of pills. The small brown bottle half full. The small white pills nestling inside offering blessed peace from the pounding in her head. Pills that she had been taking for so long, small white relief from the mundane numbness that her life had become.

Placing the now empty small brown bottle on the polished surface she held up her left hand and turning it so that the back faced her she stared at the unpolished nails, the long slim fingers, and the golden ring encircling one finger, placed there a quarter of a century ago, placed with love, placed with promise, placed with a whole future ahead of them. A future now cut short by the words "I'm leaving you......."

Removing the small gold band she placed it beside the small brown bottle and staring at her naked body in the mirror picked up her brush, the one with the silver back, the one he gave her that first year they were married. The one that he told her he had loved to watch her use as she brushed her then long blond hair all those years ago. When she was young and was beautiful, and vibrant. When he was hers.

Running the pale cream bristles through her hair, she swayed, her naked body moving in a mocking sinuous dance as she remembered the past, the happy times, the times when he would stand behind her, his body nestled up against her back, his arms around her body, his hot breath at her neck, his love encompassing her making her feel complete. Smiling at herself in the mirror she remembered lost in the memories, seeing herself as she once was young and vivacious, pulsing with life, full of possibilities.

"I'm leaving you......."

Slowly she stilled, the coldness returning as her memories were shattered by the memory of his voice, his aloofness, his detachment as he had told her, "I'm leaving you........." only last night. It was only last night.

Turning her head she looked across the room to the open closet, clothes hanging neatly, in rows, grouped in gender. His and hers. Suits and dresses. Shirts and blouses. Separate but together. Mingled but not touching, much like their life had become.

"I'm leaving you......."

Stepping over his cold dead body lying on the floor, the red river of life that had drained out of him onto the clean and pristine cream carpet, she walked over to the open doors and reached in to straighten the half removed suit back onto its hanger. Smoothing her hand, the one without the familiar gold band, the one with the specks of blood upon it, she felt the soft smooth fabric, the dark blue mohair so supple and warm against her palm. So warm she could almost feel him. Leaning forward she took a deep breath, inhaling into her lungs the lingering scent, the smell of him, the essence of the man that now lay still and cold behind the naked woman.

"I'm leaving you......"

Closing the closet she walked over to the bed. Their bed. The bed where they had lain, first as young passionate lovers, newly married, then as busy parents grabbing sex between caring for the children and building his career, and finally as almost strangers, laying next to each other in a barren expanse of stillness.

Sitting on the bed she picked up the golf club, from the usually pristine duvet, now red with his blood, smeared with blood, red on white. Just like their wedding. White and red roses, her bouquet smelt sweet, her dress was pretty, he had watched her walk up the aisle a look of love in his eyes, her heart filled with happiness.

"I'm leaving you......"

He played golf each Saturday and Sunday. Gone all day, leaving her to sit in the big house, the tidy house, the silent house, the pristine house. All alone.

"I'm leaving you......"

He had met the woman there. At the club. She played golf. She was young, he had told her that she was young, vibrant, unlike herself, that he loved the woman, had shared interests with her, laughed and found her interesting. That she made him feel young again. Alive. And he was leaving her for the woman, for the woman at the golf club, after twenty six years, after all this time, he was leaving her.

Getting up she knelt down next to the still body, watching as the glistening red stream soaked into the pristine cream carpet, seeping from the ugly spot that was now his crushed skull. Sighing she lay down in front of the still body, moving his arm up over her, as she snuggled back against his still and lifeless form, laying as they had all those years ago, when they had loved and even in sleep he would hold her as he had hated to not be touching her.

"I'm leaving you......"

The pills had started to numb her, and taking the cutthroat razor that she had loved to watch him shave with. Loved to see him glide over his skin, smoothing away the stubble and the foam, revealing his strong jaw and lean cheeks, she slit her wrists and lay waiting for the blessed end, watching as her red thick blood oozed out onto the pristine cream carpet to join with his.

"I'm leaving you....."

Never.

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