Until Death Do Us Part

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In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish...
1.1k words
3.14
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I watch the sun fall behind the horizon; the burning star changing its hue of orange to almost tangerine. The clouds were darkening, obliterating the sun as the day gave way to the night; as darkness claims its throne. The inevitable change in nature, yet a cosmic power to preserve the balance in the fabrics of space and time.

Standing on the grey porcelain tiles of our balcony, still, a prisoner to the distant memory, the image of our holy union at the chapel of St. Martha flashes before me. 'I, Charlotte, promise you, Louis, to love you, honor you, and cherish you as my husband. I promise peace when times are tumultuous, laughter in sadness, and always to be a light in the darkness. I pledge to be your ever faithful, honest, and loving wife, till death do us part.'

You have arranged the room to my taste; minimal design, neat and clean, Just the way I want. The Ivory mother-of-pearl floor vase in the corner, occasionally disturbed by the tab top Curtains moving with the gust of wind flowing in. Our quarter sewn oak bureau, which was my gift to you on our second anniversary stands out. I am amazed at how well you have maintained this furniture.

I take my place on the recliner, adjacent to our marital bed where you are seated, wearing your floral print mini dress, undeniably appropriate for the occasion, lost in contemplation. The dark coat of mascara on your well-made up eyes and the soft pink lipstick smeared timidly across your lips amplifies the beauty of your oval-shaped face. 'Honey, your blue eyes are intoxicating.'

You are nervous, tensed and perturbed yet aroused, eager and stimulated. Twirling your hazel hair, pulling it back and smoothing it. You are ruminating over the potential possibilities! It's not within my power to read your thoughts. Not yet! But I know what you are thinking; the events envisioning in the mind of yours ready to enfold anytime soon. 'It's alright. I want you to enjoy yourself, honey.'

The gravel crunches under the tyres of the approaching vehicle, calling your attention. I know who it is but you; unsure. You close your eyes, let out a sigh and stand up. The look on your face tells me, your mind is having second thoughts. Fence-sitting has always been your weakness, but not tonight. Turning around, looking in the mirror of your bureau, brushing your hand putting on your happy face, you move out of the room.

I don't have to follow nor accompany you. I remain seated, my eyes resting our wedding photo on the dark oak bedside table. With you beside me, frozen in time, eyes radiating the joy of our union and a genuine smile. 'Honey, How I wish to relive the moment.'

The two pair of footsteps herald the advent of the much-anticipated moment. A brief pause, twisting of the doorknob and you are in with him. Hands intertwined like a newly wedded couple; you lead him in. For a split second, our eyes meet but then, you turn to face him. He has his arm around your waist, pulling you close to himself. You are excited!

I turn to look at the blue soft cushioned mattress on the bed frame. Our bed! The bed which we shared for seven years; The love we made, quarrel we had, the games we played and the future we planned. The sacred altar where our act of love bore us our child, will be shared by someone other.

Your lover has loosened his tie, unbutton his shirt sleeves and you help him unbutton his shirt. I notice your lipstick smudge and the soft pink hue lightening below your chin. Those cerulean-glass eyes, locked with his, close softly as he cups your chin to taste your lips again.

The kiss you share is steeped in a passion that ignites the primal desire. His fingers slide the dress from your shoulder, letting it fall on the cream Porcelain tiles and pool around your feet, revealing your naked body, crafted to please him. To partake in your nakedness and dispel the traces of awkwardness, he unzips his trousers and drops them down without taking his eyes off you. 'Honey, he longs for you.'

A gentle push from the fine gentlemen and you are on the bed. Your hungry lover wastes no time in crawling on his hand and knees to you, to lock his lips with you again. He is over you. The handful of his hair you grab, the lips you bite and the moan you release, confirms your thirst his being. His fingers slither down your body to the place you dread, yet long. Your eyes widen and then shut, in reaction to your invasion by someone new. His rough fingers working in your sequestered zone causing your chest to rise and fall as he admires the look on your face; something I wish I had done.

The brief pause, slight adjustment and an intense moan indicate the penetration of his manhood into your prize. Your nails piercing slightly into the flesh of his back, as he pushes harder into you. The rhythmic dance of gliding your body apart, only to meet together again, begins.

I stand with my eyes fixed you and make my way towards our bureau to have a final glance at our dear treasure. The yellowish-brown bamboo photo frame proudly displays the picture of you, me and Sally, our child. I wish I could hold it but in the present state, I can't. It's not in my power to touch solid objects. I raise my eyes to look in the mirror only to find my reflection missing and replaced with your play of passion. 'Honey, you look beautiful.'

The final push, a loud moan, the rasping breath and the final creak of the bed marks the end of your act. The amalgamation of fluids inside you is a symbolic gesture of your acceptance of him into our family. Though tired, he has his arms wrapped around your perspiring body, holding you close as you willingly submit into his arms.

I turn around and make my way towards your bed. Kneeling in front of your face, I cannot help but stroke your hair and kiss your forehead, even though you are incapable of feeling it. Not yet!

There is no anger, no jealousy nor any hatred. It has been obliterated with the physical self which once was mine. All that is left is the love I have for you. I won't be there for your thirtieth birthday, nor be present when Sally makes it to high school. I wish I was, but I can't. 'Remember honey, I have always loved Sally and you. Take care of our child and tell her that her dad always loved her.'

I look at your beautiful face as a bead of sweat trickle down your brow, dissolving in the tears from your closed eye. You are thinking of me. Immense consolation flooding in my being as I surrender myself to the oblivion. I am at peace.

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22 Comments
26thNC26thNC3 months ago

Finally get the story. It took me four years to understand what’s going on.

Busman19639Busman196393 months ago

Needs a beginning and an ending.

AnonymousAnonymous7 months ago

Ah another writer who can not finish the Dam story or creating the work up of its beginning.

AnonymousAnonymous9 months ago

Stupid. Just inane afterlife spiritualist froth. Been watching too much Star Wars and starting to believe the mythology crap?

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