fields of gold

The scent of lavender fills my senses as I enter the living room. I inhale delightedly, basking in the serenity the scent brings as I take off my coat. My eyes land on the newspaper I’d brought in earlier, my stomach churning as I read the headline. ‘Thousands Killed in Paris Bombing’. How am I supposed to raise a child in a world that is so cruel? Shaking my head, I pull my mind from such thoughts, knowing our chances of having a child were now non-existent, every avenue having already been exhausted. Hesitantly I call for my wife, the memories from the night before, flooding my mind… her hopelessness, my frustration, our tears.

“In the studio”, her voice is still laced with sadness as she answers my call. Frowning, I make my way down the hall, its walls spotted with empty spaces, the pictures of our nieces and nephews that once marked them now too painful for Ness. Reaching the studio entrance, I see her slumped over in deep dejection. I cross the threshold tentatively, glancing curiously at the new paintings that grace the vicinity as I make my way to her. I stop to stand in front of her, bending slightly as I softly touch her chin, pulling it up slowly to reveal her tear-streaked face. Her jade eyes pierce mine, making my heart ache painfully. Cupping her cheek gently, I caress her porcelain skin before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, wiping away her tears with my thumb before pulling her to my chest. Her body trembles slightly as she cries into my shoulder. I open my mouth to speak; to comfort her, but there is nothing to say, nothing that I can promise her, nothing to ease the deep sorrow of her heart, just empty words. Her body soon slumps into mine as the exhaustion finally consumes her. I bend down, wrapping my arms under her frame as I pick her up gently. The weight of her body in my arms a heavy comfort. Memories of our wedding day flash before my eyes as I carry her to the bedroom… her soft chuckle as I carry her down the aisle… we were so carefree then, so naïve. Shaking my head, I carefully place her on the bed, pulling the covers over her before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Stay” the whisper of her voice startles me. I turn around, hesitantly walking to the other side of the bed before I slide under the covers and pull her small frame against mine.

*

Knocking on the door wakes me with a fright. I climb out of the bed groggily, careful not to disturb my wife as I make my way to the door. I look at the time in annoyance; the hour hand mere inches away from the seven as I finally reach the door, pulling it open slowly to reveal a woman.

“Good morning! I'm so sorry to have disturbed you at this hour, but I have some very exciting news”, she says excitedly as she hands me an envelope. I open it confused, my heat stopping painfully as I read the words printed in bold writing.

‘Congratulations, you're parents!’.

Tears fall from my eyes, my hands shaking as I thank her. She offers her congratulations once more before leaving. I try to pull myself together as I walk back inside, the sudden appearance of my wife in the hall a shock. She looks at me sleepily,

“Who was at the door?”, the sound of her voice still laced with sleep, made me smile. I hold up the envelope, tears still in my eyes as I speak,

“We got our baby Ness, we’re parents”. Her gasp fills the room before she runs to me, jumping into my arms as she cries. We stay like that for what feels like hours, our bodies one as we cry together. I let her down gently, our lips meeting awkwardly as we smile. We look down at the picture of the little boy, who was now ours. We are parents.

*

The ecstatic screams and squeals of our friends and family fill my heart with joy as we tell them the news. Everyone takes turns hugging us as they offer their congratulations and promise to spoil the “little tike”, as Grandad calls him. I laugh as the girls convince Ness to go to a gay bar with them to celebrate properly, her face of mortal shock as they tell her how many women are going to hit on her. I hold up her coat, leaning in for a kiss as she takes it from me.

“Have fun! I love you”

“Love you too. See you later!” She smiles as they pile out of the door.

*

Groggily I reach over the bed in search of my wife, chuckling to myself when I don’t find her; she must have passed out on the couch. I pull on my robe, making my way down the hall. I reach the lounge and look around at the empty couches confused. She must have slept at one of the girls’ houses I think as I put on the kettle. I grab my phone from the bedroom and check for messages.

None.

I call her mobile. Nothing.

I try her friends. Still nothing.

As I walk back into the kitchen, I chuckle, thinking about how drunk they must have gotten. I make myself a coffee, and switch on the television.

‘Over 50 have been killed in the recent mass shooting at Orlando gay club, Pulse, officials are saying it is the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history’.

The crash of my mug as it shatters pulls me from my trance, my body going cold as dread pierces through me. Willing myself to move, I grab my keys, gripping them tightly as I rush to the door. I rip it open in a panic, my world shattering before me as I see the police officers walking up the drive, sombre expressions painting their faces as our eyes lock.

I retreat, shutting the door with trembling hands before sinking to my knees, the sobs that rack through my body unforgiving in their intensity as my eyes find the bouquet of marigolds that grace the counter, the memory of our honeymoon ripping through my heart painfully as I close my eyes; the evening sun sets her skin aglow as she twirls through the meadow of marigolds, her eyes following the path of her fingers with awe as they dance over the flower’s golden petals. My sobs disappear into the darkness, the rattling behind me a distant hum as I clutch to the sleeves of my robe, the memories of our life clouding my mind with wistful comfort.