Did your ghost slip into the vast expanse of night,
Did the cold pane keep you out my love,
Are you still wandering the bracken bathed in moonlight...?
"Are you listening Frank?"
"Frank.."
I stared at her eyes. They were beautiful, serene even. Her brow was slightly raised, probably inquisitive. I wondered why, but the thought didn't last.
My attention was now on her nose. She had a pointy nose, the type whose nostrils were so small you wondered how they managed to get in enough air. And hers were moving too, slightly expanding and contracting. Again, and again. Funny...
Maybe it was because her mouth was moving. She seemed to be mouthing words that I couldn't hear.
What is she saying? Who is she talking to? Is it me? I looked at her eyes again. She was staring straight at me. I pinched myself...
"Frank, you know this would work better if you are more involved in these sessions."
I heard her perfectly now. But at the same time I also felt the urge not to look at her as I responded.
"But I am involved.. I mean, I try to be involved."
"I know that Frank. But I would also appreciate if you tried to open up to me." She paused now and scribbled something on her note. "I am here to help you Frank."
I shuddered at the word. Help.. Funny how everyone always wanted to help.
"I don't want any help. I only need..."
But I couldn't bring myself to say her name. The thought alone took enough effort. I lowered my head..
"Take your time Frank. There is no hurry for naming names yet."
I nodded slightly. Then she asked,
"Tell me, when was the last time you saw her..?"
I raised my head now, and looked straight at my therapist. Her mouth still moved, but her brows were no longer raised. Her face was calm, even as she continued to speak.
But I no longer heard a single word. My thoughts had drifted to the night Sheilla had left...
Did the footprint of my moorland echo cross your plain,
Did the stars of my sky shift for you,
Does your heart still remember my name...?
She looked different today. Her hair was made into three large plaits. And her skin looked a little paler than before.
"How are we doing today Frank?"
She had sat down now. Her legs crossed, and her note as always beside her. She fiddled her pen as she waited on my response. I refocused on her face.
"I'm fine I guess."
Her eyes were the same though. They still had that serene look about them. They were the kind of eyes that made people feel safe. At least that's the way they made me feel. And she probably knew too. That would explain why she chose her career path...
"Have you been sleeping fine?"
I heard her. And for a moment I wondered where she got the questions she never seemed to run out of.
"I have a question doc.." I began
"How could something have the capacity to hurt so much, and yet be so desired?"
She fiddled with her pen again as she seemed to hesitate, before responding.
"Well Frank, have you considered that perhaps only those things so desired, could possibly hurt so much?"
"Err.."
I had no retort. She always had something witty as a response. But it made sense. I loved Sheila, and that was why her departure hurt as much.
"Love Frank, entails the risk of betrayal."
Betrayal.. Is that what Sheila did to me? Did she betray me? It felt odd, because even though I suggested it to myself regularly, I still couldn't be convinced.
"But she didn't betray me. She only left because.."
I closed my eyes. I remembered Sheila's words that night. She had spoken of love, and the dilemma it tended to create within people.
"She left because..?"
I hadn't thought she was referring to herself that night. I had only thought of myself. And I had reassured her that I wouldn't leave her side. How selfish of me..
"Frank, we are not responsible for the actions of others."
I looked at my therapist. She looked so innocent, so lovable, so at peace. I couldn't tell her, I couldn't tell anyone. So I simply nodded.
"Pity.. she had left without saying goodbye."
I bowed my head. The truth was completely different. Sheila had left, but not because she wanted to betray me. She had left because I had left her side.
And she didn't just leave..
She had killed herself.
Did the muse find a new path to fly,
Did the time really come and go for us,
Without getting to say goodbye…?
#SladenSpeaks
#IfWordsWereNudes
Written for @theinkwell's fiction challenge.
Poetry by @calluna
