It was
numbing. A revelation. It was so unexpected, shock set in faster than expected.
The air was silent for a long while as John and Marie realized how much they’d
hurt each other. They dropped their swords and stood in awe of the bloody carnage
they had caused. Marie held her hand on her chest over a long slash from John’s
blade. John clutched his left side where Marie had pierced him and nearly run
him through.
“Why didn’t
you tell me,” asked John as he staggered and wavered on his feet.
“I didn’t
want you to know,” said Marie.
Marie fell
backwards into a lounge chair in the study where their pitched battle had left
the room in ruins. Books they bought together were strewn about and the globe
they picked out on vacation to India
was shattered on the floor. The large wooden desk was flipped on its side and
had crashed into the glass case of the items collected from Egypt . Blood was ebbing down the front of Marie’s
night dress through her hands. John tried to walk toward her but stumbled on
the Ottoman Marie had thrown at him early on in their heated duel. He fell to a
knee in front of Marie.
“Now, you
get on your knee,” said Marie as she tried to straighten herself in the chair.
“Very
funny,” said John.
John slid
along the floor closer to Marie and pulled himself by the arm of the lounge
chair so he could look at her beautiful face.
“Why did it
have to come to this,” he asked, “we are so in love. Why this then?”
“Because
you’re a fool. And I’m a fool,” said Marie.
She placed
a hand on the top of John’s head and gently smoothed his sweat matted hair from
his forehead. John closed his eyes and let himself feel the softness of her
hand. He let her hand slide down his face and he kissed it gently as it passed
by his lips. He reached up and took her hand in his.
“We are
fools aren’t we? No two bigger fools ever walked this Earth,” said John.
“Well,
you’re a bigger fool than me,” smiled Marie.
John rested
his head on Marie’s knee and tried to catch his breath. He felt it getting more
labored but still felt the urge to laugh. It was something he and Marie could
always do together no matter what. They laughed together at most things.
“Remember
how you threw the candelabra at me and shouted ‘How about a little fire
scarecrow’. Where did that come from,” asked John.
“I knew
you’d laugh at that. It was to my advantage,” said Marie.
“I did
laugh, but you laughed too. The advantage was sort of lost then,” said John.
Marie
smiled down at John as he looked up at her. Their blood was now mixing on the
floor about the lounge chair, staining the open books at their feet.
“I wish
we’d worked on our relationship as hard as we did our fencing skills,” said
Marie.
“Me too
darling, me too. I’m afraid we’ve cut each other too deep this time to
recover,” said John.
A painted
portrait of the two hung over the mantle over the large roaring fire in the
fire place. The wood crackled and popped as the flames licked the wood. The
portrait of Marie and John was bathed in the alternating shadow and light of
the flickering flames. Their portrait still expressed the optimism in their
young eyes but also seemed to now judge them as they clutched each other in
their nearing death.
“My love,”
asked John.
“Yes my
love,” said Marie.
John
struggled up to his feet and tried not to groan. He straightened his suit
jacket and fixed his collar. Marie looked up at him.
“Will you
dance with me,” asked John as he stretched out his hand.
Marie
smiled and reached up to John’s waiting hand.
“I’d love
too,” said Marie.
John pulled
her up from the chair and they fell into each others arms and stood in the
middle of the study. Marie rested her head on John’s shoulder and he started to
hum to her in her ear. They swayed in each other arms in the firelight as dusk
turned to night outside.
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