perfect wind

The Husband

March 28th 2006
He needed a smoke. It had been a long day, and he felt he deserved it. Ignoring the no smoking sign above his head, he pulled out the pack he had bought that morning and was just about to light one when they were knocked out of his hands.

It was the last straw. Ready to let out his anger on the unsuspecting attacker, he stopped short when he found himself staring into a pair of emerald green eyes. He forgot all about his frustration, the pack of cigarettes on the floor. Those eyes belonged to a face, an equally gorgeous face. And that face belonged to a girl. He knew she couldn't be older than eighteen, making him at least seven years her senior. But that didn't bother him, he had to give it a shot.

August 14th 2014
The girl had grown into a woman. His woman. His wife. And now she was carrying his child. He had put on a happy face, made it look like he was thrilled by the news, but in reality, he felt sick to his stomach. He was glad he had agreed to go back to work late that night, he had to get out of the house, away from her.

He didn't go to work. He went to a bar, drank beer after beer, thinking about how on earth he had gotten there. It had all started with the wind.

March 28th 2006
The girl had been crying, mascara was running down her face like jagged black scars, cracks in her face that revealed how she felt inside. He hugged her. He didn't know what else to do. It was windy outside and had started to rain, and since all she had was her bike, he offered her a ride.

She didn't want to go home. They drove around for hours. In order to avoid any talk of her breakdown, the girl eventually started kissing him. He could feel that her heart wasn't into it, but he wasn't one to turn down a hot babe when she threw herself at him

August 14th 2014
Oh, how he hated himself for that. He should have comforted her, helped her with whatever she had been going through. Instead, he took advantage of her.

2006
She spent the night with him. He figured she would be gone come morning, and he wouldn't ever see her again. She didn't leave. She needed a place to stay, her parents were going through a divorce and couldn't take care of her.
Despite his instincts telling him to push her into the streets, that she would just cause trouble, he let her stay. There was something about her that enchanted him, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what.

Eventually, he proposed to her. It had seemed like the next logical step. They had been tied together by fate, or, as she liked to say, the wind.

August 15th 2014
He had never understood her obsession with wind. To him it was simply moving air, didn't have any additional meaning.
The bar was empty. It was five in the morning and he hadn't seen the bottom of his glass for the past few hours. The bartender kicked him out after confiscating his car keys, told him that he could pick them up once he was sober.

He didn't know where to go. He couldn't face Rachel. He couldn't raise a child. All this, it never should have happened. He had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Slowly stumbling down the street, he made up his mind. He would send her a letter of apology. Explain why he couldn't go through with this. He would give her money for the baby, he didn't want anything bad to happen to them.

August 14th 2014
He could smell the tomato sauce before he even opened the door. She always made lasagne when she had something important to tell him. He had told her a long time ago that it was his favorite dish and had never bothered to correct himself.

It took him quite some time to grasp what was happening. Unsure of what to do, he placed his hands on her stomache, telling himself that everything was going to be fine. She sure seemed to believe so.

August 15th 2014
He woke up around noon and found himself in a back alley behind a dumpster smelling of rotten fish. With his head still throbbing, he opened his phone to find several missed calls and voicemails from Rachel. He deleted them.

This was it. Mark would start over. It would finally be perfect.