Moments of Love

Moments of Love

"I'll savour this moment,"she thought to herself as the moment was gone
in a second and he drove off along the road leaving her behind with a
casual honk of the horn. Foolishly, she lifted her hand to wave goodbye
but then chided herself because she knew he would not be looking back
at her and instead slipped it inside the back pocket of her jeans. She
was forgotten now, that much she was sure of.

It had been three uncharacteristically passionate and abandoned days
and nights. She had experienced moments of tender love beneath the
covers, hours of passionate love all around the house and she blushed
at the memory. She had never known anything like it before and probably
never would again. She resisted the urge to chase his car down the
street, screaming for him to come back but noticed Mrs Randall's
curtains twitching across the street and wondered, suddenly
self-conscious, how many other prying eyes were upon her now.

She had answered the door to him on Saturday evening, or was it Sunday?
She frowned trying to remember. There had been something about his eyes
that had made her trust him, although they had never met before. She
invited him, offered him a coffee and he just sort of ...well stayed
for a while.

She had been crying, lonely. Her husband had hurt her, blacked her eye
and called her names. He had left, throwing her a look of pure
contempt, slamming the door so that the glass in it rattled. She wept
bitter hot tears that spilt over pale cheeks and slipped through her
fingers, damping her shirt.

At that precise moment he had tapped the door. Later, he would tell her
his name was Michael. Had he known she wondered afterwards. At first,
she thought perhaps it was her husband come back to beat her some more
but she hurried to let him in despite this awful thought, not stopping
even to wipe away the grief from her face.

So she was relieved to see a stranger standing there and not the man
she had married and grown to loathe. He had reached out and touched her
face where the bruise was spreading, tender and swollen. She had not
winced because he had not hurt her. She had needed him, although she
had not realised this until he arrived. She had needed him very much
indeed. As Michael had held her close and wrapped his arms around her,
she nestled into him, inhaling his smell. The need for him and his love
welled up inside her like a tidal wave. She had impulsively instigated
things, lifting her face to his, eyes shining in earnest and had kissed
him with a passion she did not know she possessed.

"Love me" she said and he had nodded silently, understanding.

She felt only a quiet calm, peace whilst she was with him. Fortunately,
her husband did not return but she did not feel fear in the event that
he did put in an appearance because she was with Michael and nothing
else seemed to matter.

Inside the house there were no tell-tale signs of him, nothing to mark
his sudden appearance and inevitable departure. Not even the smell of
him lingered on the sheets but she washed them anyway in case her
husband came back sober and might guess at what had happened between
them and beat her for it.

That afternoon, she sat drinking tea and idly watched the sheets on
fast spin when her husband came back, slipping in through the back door
sheepishly. He said nothing but had his head bent as though in shame.
When he eventually lifted his head to face her, she gasped because his
left eye was closed and swollen and looked as though it had taken a
blow far worse than the one he had inflicted on her. She realised
though, that it wasn't so much the damaged eye that had surprised her
but the actual look in his eyes, there was a light there she had not
noticed before, a certain expression that filled her with hope.

"What has happened?" she felt brave enough to ask him but he would
offer no explanation and only shrugged before sinking into a chair,
resting his forehead on the table and sobbed as though in pain.

It came to her in a flash. She saw Michael's eyes again, felt that
calm.

She reached out to her husband in the hope that she could try to love
him again and he might let her this time.

"I'm pregnant" she said. He lifted his head from the table and cupped
her face between his hands, searching her eyes with his eyes - eyes
that were confusingly like Michael's all of a sudden.

Unspoken between them was the knowledge of what had happened yet she
had no idea how he knew, but he never asked if the baby was his and he
never hit her again.