Wednesday, 11 September 2013

Stay - MWBB

It seems my winning streak on the Mid-Week Blues-Buster challenge is over for the time being. I like to think that it is because there are more writers entering, all of whom have fabulous talent, than to consider that my entry might not be up to scratch. Particularly this week, as my entry was so emotive.

But then this song prompt would do that to me, as it is from my favourite band at present - Hurts, and the song Stay is one of the best off their first album - the voice of the lead singer, Theo Hutchcraft is just exquisite, and this song shows it off brilliantly.

Grab your box of tissues! 
*** 

He watched her move round the lounge, collecting, packing; he hated it…but he just sat there.

He wanted to speak; he so wanted to express how he felt, but how could he? How could he form the words she wanted to hear? He’d tried so many times - and several times he thought he’d managed it, but she still kept doing this, still kept insisting that she was going.

But this time it was different; this time she wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t ranting, this time she was silent, quiet – methodical. And she’d never packed this much before.

The children sat and watched too. They wondered if mummy was serious, if this time she would actually go, but their silence – and their presence - said that they believed that this time she just might.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He hadn’t believed her when she said she’d had enough, when she said she couldn’t do it anymore, that she couldn’t live in this emotional silence; that it was killing her, and her love for him. He hadn’t really listened - thought she was just having another of her tantrums; that it would blow over like they always did, and she’d be fine in a few hours, and all would be right with the world again. She’d attempted to leave before, three times in fact; walked out. But she’d come back, and to be honest he found it irritating now; he’d grown tired of it.

But today she wasn’t doing any of that; she wasn’t telling him what she needed, she wasn’t screaming at him, telling him where he’d gone wrong and how he’d failed her. She wasn’t doing any of that – and actually hadn’t for months. She’d been studying her self-help books, seeing her therapist and things were looking up. She’d started to return to the woman he’d met, the loving, warm, caring individual he’d fallen in love with.

So why was she packing?

He desperately wanted to know, but he daren’t speak. Whenever he spoke it always went wrong, somehow his words would be misinterpreted, and she’d start screaming, or crying. His words never seemed to work, she complained that they didn’t really say anything. And today, if it went wrong, that would be that, she wouldn’t be coming back. He knew it; he knew it in his soul.

She zipped up the last bag and stopped. She went over to the children, not speaking – not able to with the tears pouring down her face, and grabbed them off the sofa, squeezing them as tight as she could. The little one implored her with his eyes, and when that didn’t work, he wouldn’t let her go. She had to peel him off. That’s when his tears started and he ran to his Papa for comfort and support.

She turned to him, and again he tried to speak, he tried to form the words that would make all this stop, but he fumbled when she looked into his eyes, and only said, ‘So, this is it then?’

She blinked, the disappointment in her eyes palpable, and looked at her cases. ‘Yes.’ She walked over to them and gathered them around her. He knew she was stalling, waiting for him to say or do something, but he felt paralysed, frozen inside, not able to form anything. She picked them up and took them to the front door, managing to fumble it open and push herself out.

She faltered on the doorstep, turning again. And he stood there at the door holding the little one, while the eldest stood by his side, still trying to get the words out, still trying to form anything that would work, that would stop this horror unfold. But part of his mind was waiting, waiting to see if she would really go.

She turned. She walked to the car and loaded the cases in the boot. The children were crying loudly now. He had to do something.

‘STAY! Please stay!’ He shouted.

She stopped; pausing for a moment as she opened the car door.

‘I can’t.’

As her car pulled out, his tears started too.




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