Sunday, January 17, 2010

"Get to the damned point already! Drop the Kumbiya nonsense and tell me what is going on."
"I've developed a relationship with someone else," he clarified.
A cold Autumn breeze breached the cabin windows, passed through the room and over their skin. It was the first cold snap of the year, a harbinger. The kind which would send a shiver up their spines, but their looks were colder.
"How long?"
"Um...we, we had been spending some time together for a few weeks, but last night..."
"I don't want to hear it."
"Marian, it was just a kiss. I swear."
As Marian turned her back she listened to the sound of seagulls who had followed the Winter wind. They cried out their itinerant wail. They had come to expect her and her bread, and she their companionship. Could it be that each had found a security in the pattern, a symbiosis in their expectations, she asked herself.
"I need to feed the birds, Jon." She passed through the cabin like a vapor, the jar of stale bread succumbing to her wake. Before opening the door she paused gazing out the window.
Jon stumbled for words, Marian's change in expression was so absolute. Had she disconnected so completely as well, he feared. "Take your time, dear. We can resume whenever you want." Jon raised his voice slightly to be heard over the surf on the rocks. Marian was already off the porch and the seagulls seemed to know what was coming, their ruckus became lighter, almost jovial. "Feel free to come inside where it is warm and safe. I don't want to..." His words were stopped as he stumbled backwards away from a low swiping albatross.
"Damn." After recovering from the fright it was useless to try again, Marian was already down to the cove where the land enveloped a small estuary. There weren't any crumbs showing her trail, eaten midair, undoubtedly. "I don't want to fight. I love you," Jon quietly mouthed to himself.
Down at the cove Marian set the empty jar on the stony ground. She looked up at the satiated seagulls flying in wider circles before roiling clouds. Holding her arms out she received the wind, breathing the brine deeply. Closing her eyes, Marian could feel the last of the tension release. All thoughts washed away, heart beat in time with the waves. Just as she began to feel as if her body was slipping away it suddenly caught her attention again. Hands, not her own, slid her dress from her shoulders.

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© Michael Mosher 2010