The sound of pounding on the door reverberated around the petite cottage. Marie felt beads of sweat begin to form across her forehead. She glanced around the room. Her husband was nowhere in sight. Now she began to panic. She rose to her feet from the pile of blankets that she used as a bed.

Her heart started to frantically beat. She did not even put on a bra in her sudden haste to check on her kids. Her body moved like a fox ready to pounce on a wild rabbit after a long winter season. The door leading to her kids room was not locked— that worried her a bit-…She hoped nothing had happened to them while she had been in dreamland.

The sweet aroma of fresh flowers in a vase by the window hit her as soon as she walked into the children’s room. Tears began to slowly drip from her eyes. She felt a sigh of relief. There in the room laying ever so peacefully where the twins: Frank, & Ophelia.

She tiptoed toward them then spoke to them in almost a whisper: ‘‘Come on.’’

Ophelia yawned and rubbed her eyes. ‘‘What about father?’’

Marie planted a kiss on both of their foreheads, and then replied: ‘‘Your father went ahead of us. Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.’’

She told the kids to grab their coats, and follow her.

They did as their mother asked. As they hurried out of the cottage from the back door, Frank looked back and cried.

Later they arrived at a house that sat near a small creek. Marie knocked on the door.

The door swung open. A voice gasped. ‘‘Marie?? Where’s Jean?’’

Marie shook her head. Her eyes almost started welling up with tears. But she had to remain calm for now. She did not want to worry her kids.

The kind voice of Marie’s dear friend helped her to be a little at peace. The children were delighted to pay a visit to their godmother, Rebekah.

Rebekah guided her guests toward a table. Marie saw the pile of documents that had been prepared for her, and the kids, too.

The godmother gave Marie a tight squeeze. ‘‘Keep in touch. Come back, and visit us all here the moment it’s safe to do so.’’

At midnight, Rebekah escorted Marie and the children to another private location. When they got there, a tiny aircraft had been waiting for them.

This time she could not help herself. She waved goodbye, and announced to the kids: ‘‘We are taking a little trip. We shall come back here sometime later to visit our family, and friends.’’

The kids nodded their heads.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into years.

Marie was enjoying a nice cup of hot chocolate while sitting near the fireplace. She sighed. How long had it been since she promised the kids they’d be heading back home?

She heard the sound of someone knocking at her door. This startled her. She was not expecting any visitors, and at such a late hour. The kids had already gone to bed.

Marie stood, and slowly walked to the front door. She opened it, and she froze in terror. The stranger started to speak, but did not know what to say to her. Then he cleared his throat and asked, ‘‘May I come in?’’

She began to sob, and clenched her fists. ‘’You left us, and you broke my heart… Jean."

‘‘Perhaps several hearts were broken that day, including my own.’’

Marie scoffed. ‘‘What now?? You want to try to come back and try to make this family somewhat whole?? Huh?’’

She was about to shut the door when Jean pleaded. ‘‘Can I at least see our kids?’’

Marie raised her eyebrow. ‘‘Our kids? You have not seen them in years!! I had to tell them that their father passed away in battle. He died a hero. Don’t ruin that for them now by trying to come back into their lives!’’

Jean now began to sob, too. He went down on his knees, and bowed. ‘‘Please, forgive me. I promise not to run away from my role as a husband, and father, ever again.’’

Marie took a deep breath, and screamed. ‘‘Ahh! It’ll take sometime for me to forgive you, but I don’t think I’ll forget what you did to me, Frank, and Ophelia.’’

He began to step back to a standing pose. Marie stopped him the second her tried to walk through the door. ‘‘Come back in the morning. Maybe I will let you see the kids then. But that’s not a promise. You’ll need to at least try to be there for the kids this time. You should know that they both still adore you. I can’t say the same thing for me though. Not at this time. I ask that you be a good father to them now…’’

Jean have a slight nod. ‘‘I shall be there for them and not leave without saying a word like last time. Please, at least let me be in their lives, yes, as their father. Again, I’m sorry for leaving you, and the kids alone for this long.’’

Marie slammed the door. She felt like the world was spinning. Yes, she would never forget what he did, but a part of her still wanted to know that he was okay— and not laying dead in a ditch-, or worse MIA. She was glad to have seen him still alive, and that he had come back even if it took him ages to check in on them, his beloved family.

~https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Wu-gYFDo070

12 Avril 2023

#CœurBrisé ©️

Ricky stood outside the church as the hands of old relatives caressed his own.

"I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man.”

“He’ll be watching over you, son.”

“You have a guardian angel now.”

All these people were quick to give him assurances. Most of them, he didn’t even know. Ricky nodded, forced a smile, and said “Thank you” a hundred fucking times.

When the Church of St Anthony had cleared out, Ricky felt like he could finally loosen his tie and take a breath. He sat on the step and looked out at the countryside. There was a fair amount of guilt weighing him down, and he was having a hard time deciphering exactly what the cause was. Was it because he hadn’t seen his old man in a couple of years before he was killed? Or was it that he didn’t give a shit?

His mother, Rosie, and her newfound lover, Angie, walked out of the church and didn’t waste a second before lighting their cigarettes.

“You coming home?” Rosie asked,

“In a bit. I think I’m just going to hang out for a while.” “

Suit yourself,” Angie added. “Make sure to visit your sister in the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll go after.”

“Alright, kiddo.”

After the cars pulled out and the dust from the parking lot settled, Ricky went around back to the tiny graveyard to have one last chat with the old man.

The family was broke. So, instead of a headstone, Earl Walker had a small wooden cross that was no higher than Ricky’s shins when he stood in front of it.

Earl’s ashes were placed between his father and his mother, who had large stones with etchings describing them as lovable, courageous, and proud. These stones had been paid for by their insurance, which Ricky’s family had none.

“Hey, dad. How’s it going?” Ricky asked, and looked around the graveyard to make sure that no one was watching him talk to a wooden cross. He felt stupid. But he also felt it was necessary. If he didn’t do it, it would gnaw at his brain like a mental rat. Slowly driving him crazy.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like you can hear me. But here I am anyway. I just wanted to say that you know, you really fucked us up. Jenny is in the hospital. She swallowed like a pound of sleeping pills. Mom has some kind of thing going on with Angie from work, and I’m just here, feeling numb to it all, but feeling scared that when it wears off, I’m going to go crazy, ya know?”

Ricky paused before realizing that he was waiting for an answer. Then he laughed at himself and sat down on the dewy grass.

“But I’m not going to make you a martyr dad. I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of saying you left us, and you broke my heart, or anything like that. I have no delusions about what you were. You were a drunk. A gambler, a whore, who put those three things in front of his family. You weren’t a hero, and I won’t cry for you. But I will forgive you because you are what you are, despite wanting to think otherwise. Some people spend their whole lives trying to find the version of themselves that they think exists somewhere, only to realize that they were chasing shadows. If you taught me anything, dad, it’s just to be who you are, even if that’s a monster.

Ricky pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and carefully unfolded it.

“Someday I’ll buy you a stone, dad. But for now, all I have is a piece of paper. Jenny wrote a small poem for you from the hospital and told me to give it to you cause she couldn’t be here today. Anyway, here it is. Here you lay, ashes under stone. Never a king, never a throne. A man who has died like the rest all alone, but perhaps several hearts were broken that day, including my own.”

Ricky felt his eyes beginning to water and knew that it was time to go. He placed the paper under the wreaths of flowers. He kissed his fingers and placed them on top of the tiny wooden cross.

“See you next time, old man.”

"You left us and you broke my heart." A tear-filled whisper came from Kehlani. She was fighting to stand straight, not cry, and look him in the eye. Kehlani failed. She was crying, her lip quivered, her eyes were glued to her fingers.

"I.." Damian stammered. His hand reached out to touch hers. Kehlani jerked away.

"Do you have any idea," She hiccuped a sob as tears streaked down her flushed cheeks. "how it is, to have to put a little child to bed each night," another hiccup interrupted her, "and be asked when her daddy will return?" Her dark eyes looked up at his green ones. "Do you?"

He opened his mouth and uttered a single letter, "N-"

Kehlani interrupted him, and forced her voice to stay steady. "No, you don't." She swallowed and swiped at a tear running down her face."I need you. Your daughter needs you! How can I tuck her in every night, fighting back hurt and tears, telling her her father won't return?" She rushed on, "How can I tell her, her daddy is gone forever? How will she learn how a man should treat her?" The words came faster. "How am I supposed to raise her, being a single mother? How can I live without you by my side, Damian? Why did you leave us?"

Damian swallowed, "Kehlani, please." His eyes filled with tears. "I love you. I always will." He looked at her deeply, "Listen to me, you will get through this. I know it hurts. I know you're hurting." He stroked her cheek with his thumb; she could barely feel his touch. "Just know, I'm always here, listening."

Kehlani looked at him, her heart racing. She hugged him tightly. "Please, tell me you will never leave. You broke my heart; you broke her heart."

He broke from her grasp,"I'm sorry. It was my job to protect my country. My duty to fight for our freedom." His own tears fell to the ground as he took a step away from Kehlani. "Perhaps several hearts were broken that day, including my own." With that, he disappeared into a shadow.

"Damian!!" Kehlani cried, her voice echoed. "Please don't leave me..." She hiccuped as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Kehlani sat upright in her bed. Her heart was pounding and her pillow was soaked with tears. She looked at her alarm clock, the digital numbers wavered in the dark. It was only 3 in the morning. She pushed off her covers, and padded through to her kitchen. Stopping by her daughter's door she paused, easy breathing came through. Good, she was asleep.

Kehlani grabbed a glass of water from the sink and took a long sip of the cool liquid. Her eyes were achy, red, and puffy. Night after night, she had woken up. Her pillow always soaked in tears, her heart always pounded. Her memories always troubling. If she didn't dream of her pain and heartbreak of his death, she dreamed of how his plane had crashed and exploded. How terrorists had bombed it down, leaving no survivors on the aircraft.

She padded back to her room and cried softly. "Why did you leave?" She whispered into the night. "Why?"

Dreams haunted her every night, making it hard to fall asleep again. Kehlani cried softly into her blanket, until she had no more tears. Her eyes grew heavy and she sighed deeply. After a few moments, Kehlani fell into a fitful sleep once again.

When I found them again I punched them in the jaw.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, no tears threatening, that had ended a long time ago.

They looked at me startled. "I... wha... sorry?"

"You left me," I screamed. "You refused to even say goodbye."

"I-"

"You left us, and you broke my heart while you were at it." I continued. "You didn't even care to say f*cking goodbye. You just disappeared. We thought you died. Do you know what that did us? We lost people and we thought we lost you. Do you have anything to say to defend yourself? To defend the shitty thing you did?"

"Perhaps several hearts were broken that day," They said calmly, "Including my own."

"Wh-"

"And maybe I didn't have a choice," They said, looking me dead in the eye. "And maybe you would be better off thinking I was dead."

Then they walked away.

The song stabbed my ears. But I could not bring my hand to change the radio. The world slowly swished around me as I pulled into the driveway.

Stepping out of the car, I dragged myself to the tomb. I felt like a limp rag doll as I stood there.

"Via my love," I mumbled. "I miss you more than you will ever know. You left us and, you broke my heart. But I carry you in that broken heart anyways." Once my lament left my voice I felt my eyes sting from tears.

"That was beautiful," an unknown voice whispered. I turned my head to see Jude's face.

"How did you known I was here?"

"I didn't. I just got here, but I should have guessed," she replied. Jude squatted down next to me and patted my shoulder. Tears streamed down my face. Jude's soft voice whispered words of comfort but I could feel her breaking beside me.

Without thought nor reason, I hummed the tune to the mournful song. Our song. It's words and melody seemed to carry her spirit. Eventually Jude joined in with me until the song finished. The moment was ours and time had slowed. I could feel the cracks in my hearts healing and the scars of grief fading.

My heart was broken and the pain would be there. But I wouldn't deal with it on my own.

Perhaps several hearts were broken that day, including my own. Family and friends. People who would rejoice in seeing her again and crumble when they realize they wouldn't.

We wouldn't be alone. We'd have each other. Her spirit would be there as well. In the things that reminded us of her.

Photos, texts and toys.

Mournful radio songs.

worst conditions is making numb

not a brave soul brave enough to love

love that girl deserved

she who is made out of love

a worthy player came forward

came and left after giving false hopes

were you the one or were you just a phase

if you really had a lover why did you call her those names

you made your choice by leaving her

now she is sitting lonely sipping coffee, thinking...

you chose her easily because you realized

you didn't love her that deeply

well its just life I will move on

accepting this reality of not being yours