jml297

After the last guest left, the energy in the house seemed to shift. Ben was on the front verandah, walking the Taylors to their car. Stephanie had paused near the front door, listening to Ben’s voice, low and apologetic. She was tempted to slam the door on him and click the deadbolt into place, but that would only confirm that he was right. That it was her fault, that she was overwrought.

Stephanie sighed and turned back up the hallway. She went into the dining room and automatically started to stack and tidy the table. In the corner there was the soft hiss and crackle of the record player. The last track had ended some time ago, but the raised voices and shouting had relegated it to background static. She went over, gently raising the needle and returning it to its stand. The spinning record slowed, then stopped. The silence felt brittle, and she shivered, suddenly cold despite the night’s warmth.

The plates were scraped and stacked in the dishwasher, and Steph was handwashing the wine glasses, a wedding gift from her godmother, when she heard him come into the kitchen. She resisted the urge to turn and face him, knowing that now wasn’t the right time for either of them to discuss what had happened. Steph picked up the last glass, washing it with care before rinsing it and placing it on the rack to dry. The dishwasher was humming, clicking softly, and she waited for whatever would happen next.

‘I should have listened. I’m sorry.’

Ben was beside her now, a tea towel in his hands. Steph watched as he picked up a glass, drying it and placing it on the bench. It was all she could do not to take the tea towel from him, to stop the possibility of something fragile being broken. Even if it was just an accident, it didn’t make the loss any easier to bear.

‘It’s too soon. I can see that now.’

Steph turned, looking at Ben’s face as if she could measure the truth of his words. He dried another glass as she watched. She waited until it was safely placed on the bench before she reached out a hand to him. Ben dropped the tea towel on the bench and pulled her close. Steph burrowed her head into his chest, breathing in and out until a sense of calm began to enclose her. She could hear his heartbeat, and it felt as ragged as her own.

This was written to a writing prompt at my local writing group.

Photo: candle lights