Metaphorical Sleep by Victoria Featherston

Below is a short story by Victoria Featherston, a student at Lake Hamilton High School and member of the Young Author's Group .  We invite you to comment, encourage, even give friendly critique.  What do you think?  We'd love to know.  Thanks for visiting our blog!  Mrs. D

Metaphorical Sleep

Victoria Featherston

Since the moment I saw them this morning – I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His wrinkled, trembling hands spotted with age supporting her. One locked with hers, the other on the small of her back. He led her – helped her down the stairs despite his own struggle. She took little steps. Small, careful, wobbling steps. And his patience! So natural, so practiced.

            I’ve only seen them once, and only for this moment. But this fleeting image nestled into my heart, it found a home there. That moment, so tender and loving as love is. So warm, selfless, and full of adoration. Love in its purest form presented itself in that elderly couple. The kind of love that is only rewarded to the most exceptional couples – the couples that pass the test of forgetting themselves entirely, and go against the current of the natural man.

            I studied a photo, framed golden, and perched on my desk – my wife. Her perfect, picturesque smile, adorable button nose – her gorgeous supermodel eyes, painted alive with a vibrant green. I remember dating this beauty years ago, the years when we were careless and invincible – crazy, even. The years when a single kiss threw me skyward. It was a first time, every time.

            All this in contrast with last night. Why were we fighting? I can’t remember. Why was she crying? I couldn’t tell you. I only recall a blur of mixed tears, anger, and her endless talking… As I stared at a wall and tuned her out. Our quarrels were normal. Almost daily. Over random, frivolous things, too. She says I’m unsupportive. I say she’s inattentive and ungrateful. It’s all just words, really.

            What did the elderly couple have that my wife and I didn’t? What made them so perfect?

            I turned off the lights in my office and locked the door behind me. I hailed my taxi and sat silent as he drove. Our lives had become a system. We did the same thing every day. No variation. Almost like we were both in a trance, a sleep that had become our reality.

            “Stop here.” I told the driver.

            He obeyed.

            What will it take to break the monotony? To wake up from this metaphorical sleep? A burst of sweet, flowery aroma encased me as I entered The Blossom Shop. A flower shop located a block from my house – the last time I was here was for our anniversary seven months ago.

            “Thank you!” I nodded, rushing out the door with her favorite color forget-me-nots in hand. I jogged the rest of the way home.

            I don’t know what came over me. Maybe desperation? Desperation to save our relationship and renew what I felt we had lost?

            I grabbed our doorknob with a sweaty hand, almost exploding through the door.

            She gasped.

            There she was – the perfect woman.

            “You startled me.” She placed a hand over her heart. My heart.

            “I’m sorry – ” my voice trailed off.

            “What are the flowers for?” She laughed. That lovely laugh.

            “You.” I shuffled toward her, setting the flowers down on the table in front of her. Before she could touch them, smell them, or say anything – I enveloped her in my arms and held her tight, pressing her soft, curvy frame against my tall sharper one. I pressed my cheek against the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo.

            “Thank you.” I could hear the smile in her voice, even muffled against my suit jacket.

            “Mhm,” I murmured.

            “What’s the special occasion?”

            “The fact that I love you so much.” I kissed the top of her head.

            “I love you too.” She squeezed my torso, “Baby, did something happen at work today?”

            “Yeah,” I opened my eyes, “I woke up.”