Annie:
She waits beside the car and watches the plane leave. It rises into the sky
over a light fog warmed by the rising sun.
She shields her eyes as she looks through the pink clouds at the glimmering
reflection off clean metal. The sight becomes a blur as the tears well in her
eyes.
This was how it always is, he might stay for a while and she would be happy
for those short-lived moments. She waits so long for them.
They had cool Sunday afternoons sipping tea while they sat hip to hip in her
wide, luxurious hammock out back, the sound of a distant dog barking framing the
memory with smiles.
The week was filled with dinners out, or cookouts with chicken breasts and
wine as they sat at her redwood picnic table. His hand rested on hers as he
smoked a cigarette and listened to the wind blow through the tall trees. They
would make love slowly with the TV light flickering and she would look up to see
the shape of his face, with a halo of light around his hair, and pull him down
to kiss him. She had to get some sleep sometime - it was so late, so fucking
late.
Saturday they would wander the streets, or find some old trail and hike for
hours. He always had a knack for finding some perfect place just off a path,
some rock outcropping, or his ears would catch the sound of a babbling stream
nearby.
Sometimes he would just sit with her, reading aloud, while absently running
his fingers up and down her legs. She could listen to the sound of his voice for
days.
The plane vanishes into the sky, leaving a hollow longing in her that will
last for so long - every time… every time. Nothing quenches this pain in her -
save the sight of a landing plane and his face as he emerges. He has to stay,
this emptiness has to end - she knows it.
It is a clear morning and she doesn’t think it’s possible for her to miss
him any more.
Marilyn:
She stands by the car and watches the sunset. The sun is a fat red orb
lounging behind the tall buildings and spreading generous portions of orange and
red across the clouds. His plane flies off again.
She blinks the last tear away; there have been too many tears. She knows
this. Long nights in their apartment waiting for his fucking calls, waiting for
him to show up late to a show. She’s waited for so long.
She spent Sunday afternoon sipping tea downtown with her friends. They
would whisper at each other and slide hip to hip as they recounted the latest
gossip. Sometimes they hounded her like dogs over his absence. She would just
let their mocking voices fade like a memory and smile.
Her weeks were filled with dinners out - meals without him. When he was there
he tried pointless cookouts or dirty little grills - she hated them. It was like
everything else, she’d spent so long wanting his touch, and not getting it,
that didn’t even feel like holding his goddamned hand anymore.
The clothes in his bag smelled like smoke- when did he start smoking? He
started leaving on the TV, watching it in bed. The flickering light kept her
awake all night. When she complained he looked mystified, as if he were some
kind of goddamned angel - NO she did not want to kiss him! She wanted to sleep
and it was too late… well, it was too fucking late.
He always meandered off, or wandered the street. He talked about trails and
nature as if he saw it all the time. She tuned out when he babbled on about the
silly rocks he brought home or the color of the sky’s reflection in the bay.
Sometimes she just sat, reading her magazine, and ignored him as he read some
boring passage from some obscure book. She didn’t know how he could be so
successful and still be such a spoiled dreamer. All he did was listen to the
childish voices in his head.
The plane vanishes into the sky, leaving her alone in the dwindling light.
She’s felt hollowness in her for a very long time now. Nothing gives relief to
this feeling in her - save the sight of the plane as he leaves. He has to go
away, this empty marriage has to end - she knows it.
It is a clear evening and she doesn’t think it’s possible for her to miss
him anymore.