Standing in the darkness,silent and undetected he watched her as he often did. He caught his first sight of her on this particular evening through the window that looked out over the backyard. She reliably left the blinds open both day and night. He knew if he wanted to observe her, for minutes or hours, he need only walk out back and enjoy her.
The yard had no neighbours for miles, this house was an island out here on the south side of a small town. Anything could happen and no one would know until they purposefully came to visit, and visitors were rare.
She was beautiful. Not classically, not in a magazine way. She was intoxicating in her presence.
You need only be close to her to sense there were more to her than anyone else you’d ever met but you would never, no matter how hard you tried, be able to put a finger on WHAT it was that set her apart. Yes her eyes were pools of blue you could look into all day, her hair was wild in a way that made other women jealous and her skin was still as glowing and youthful as it had been when he’d first stood in the dark on this very spot watching her 20 years ago, thinking of how he loved her so.
His attraction to her, and her beauty, was deeper than appearance. There was a connection between them.
He watched her stir whatever she had on the stove top. Every movement she ever made seemed to him as if choreographed, like a dancer on stage she had a gentle grace. Moving to the table she lent over a small notepad, where he knew she wrote snippets of stories that she daydreams to life.
He knew because he had once read her writing, when he was alone in the house… though she would never know he had invaded her privacy in that way, he was certain she would feel deeply violated. For a time her notes had been darkened by a sadness that she couldn’t shake but lately they had a lightness about them. A childlike excitement. As far as he knew, nobody had been allowed into her circle of trust far enough to learn that she so loved to write. Simply knowing this about her made him feel closer than he had before he’d discovered her unspoken passion.
Distracted by his own thoughts he hadn’t notice she was standing in the middle of the window staring directly at him, a look of concern clouding her face. In one hand her phone, held pressed to her ear. Her other hand fidgeting with the buttons on the waistline of her dress.
He was relieved when she took her attention from the window to punch something else into her phone as she paced the kitchen in a way he he never seen her do before. She hadn’t actually been looking at him rather staring into the reflection the light from inside cast upon her side of the glass, in effect making her blind to the happenings outside.
He realised he hadn’t drawn breath, thinking the time of being able to watch her was over.
His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he walked around the darkened side of the house and back to the archway that leads him always down the garden path. He opened the door of his car and noticed his mobile screen aglow telling him he had 4 missed calls and 3 text messages. He picked up his work bag as the phone rang again and he answered it immediately but didn’t even get to say hello.
“Honey where are you, I need you now. Come home…fast!” She said urgently and hung up.
Suddenly the front door of the house burst open and the woman he loved to watch ran out of the entrance and straight toward him shouting something he couldn’t quite catch. He nearly fell over when she hit him with full force and pressed him against the car, she was crying. He kissed her forehead, it was one of his favourite places to kiss her, before he asked what was wrong.
She shook her head, tears still streaming as fast as he wiped them aside. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing. It’s time, is all.”
And she moved his hand to her swollen belly.
For 20 years he’d watched her endure heartache after heartache. For 20 years they’d celebrated conceptions but never birth. For 20 years he had been in awe of her beauty and kindness to all other and her strength and tonight, he would watch her in her finest moments. Full blossom, welcoming their child.
As they drove down the drive he glanced in the rear view at the archway to the back lawn and knew that this had been the last night for some time he would stand out there, admiring the woman he loved so deeply.
Katrina Kruse resides in the Huon Valley, Tasmania, and describes herself as Human. Writer. Habitual breath taker. Vegan. Reproducer. Lover. She is fire and silk.
Images courtesy devon-mackay, tiago-bandeira, bacila-vlad.
