Fiction |
The Cold Space in the Bed
That once a warm body filled
I took a lot of aspirin last night, not knowing anything about opium, marijuana, or the counting of sheep. It worked, I slept through midnight, a time when habit wakes me. I came into the kitchen close to 2.00 AM, made some tea, checked on Reckless, my dog, asleep under the kitchen table.
I could never find the right response to your questions about my nocturnal adventures into the study, or the hurt you felt about the empty space in the bed getting colder by the minute. I have no real idea what shaped my life to become a writer, perhaps the lack of any other ability, save to daydream.
I was the target of everyone’s fun when young, when teachers called my name and I never heard, there but never there, looking out the window, waiting for the end of school bell. Outside the window, fields of flowers, goblins, inside nothing but desks, boxes, and bins.
After I punched Billy Harrison in the mouth, I was no longer a target for their fun.
I meant to be here for you, honest. I meant to remember things that are important to you. I meant to understand when things hurt you. I wish I’d never said: it’s okay, everybody has bad days.
You managed a weak smile, feeling a little too emotional. You softly quick-stepped to the chair, the one you believe unsuitable for its place in the home. You weren’t crying, just a hint of moisture, a glint of light off the small bead of water behind your eyes.
A couple of weeks away, you said, relax, eat at bistros, buy clothes, unload my sadness. I was determined to understand your needs, bought your ticket, waved you goodbye.
You’re not coming home, I know. Your love has folded its wings.
It was always my desire to bring you something wonderful. But somehow, when I should have been finding the love you offered me, my brain kept going — forty hammers on an anvil — stupidly believing that what I was writing was important. I failed to recognize the potential of your love.
There is the other side to loneliness, a cold space in the bed.
Catch up with and follow our WE PAW Bloggers contributors here on Medium: Carrie Ann Golden, Bob Metivier, My Alter Ego and Me, Deon Christie, David Perlmutter, Suzanne Hagelin, Harry Hogg, Kelly Santana Banks, Brian Lageose, Maryan Pelland OnText.com, Mason Bushell, Michael Embry, Samantha Bryant, Patrick Metzger, Subhasinghe SPS, My mind, PhilAndMaude, Priyanka Priyadarshini, Jason Provencio, Stephen Providenti, Janerisdon, Robert Trakofler, Shoreditchpoet, Nikolaos Skordilis, Stuart Aken, Dr.Titus Varghese, Tomas Ó Cárthaigh
This e-zine is an umbrella publication for members of the Facebook group of the same name. All writers for this publication are members of the group on Facebook. WE PAW Bloggers group is a writers forum — it is a family of writing creatives supporting one another through networking and reciprocal interaction on our journey of growth as writers.
If you wish to contribute to this ezine, please join the group on Facebook. Be sure to answer all the membership questions when you apply to join. All writing creatives are welcome.
If you enjoyed this reading, join Medium and support all the contributors you love. That’s how Medium works: our membership fee is shared with everyone we read and theirs is shared with everyone they read. Please note, the link below is an affiliate link and by following it to join Medium, I will benefit for promoting membership with a tiny extra portion of your membership fee at no extra expense to you.
D. Denise Dianaty, Editor and Graphic Designer for the WE PAW Bloggers E-Zine. Administrator for the writers forum “WE PAW Bloggers” group and its sister group “Pandora’s Box of Horrors” on Facebook. In addition to being a self-published author and poet, artist, art-photographer, and administrator of the group, “WE PAW Bloggers,” Denise is a graphic designer with 25+ years experience, predominately in print media.
