I wake up, roll over and gaze through an open window. I see that twilight has arrived and with it the gentle fall of snowflakes. I sigh and get up to block out the outside world with the over washed grey curtain. The endless, dreary days have begun to blend into one another and I am not sure exactly how long I have been waiting here for. I was meant in this place for a week. Instead I have watched the Autumn leaves change colour and fall to the ground and seen the world turn winter white. How long should I wait for? The uncertainly renders me passive; and my inability to act brings with it a sort of numbness that I cannot seem to shake off.
I had arrived in this small town on the edge of the water full of hope, certain that my future had been determined. I was to meet him, the man of my dreams, here in this faraway village. I had left behind my job, the apartment I had worked so hard to buy, my family, and my social network of friends. He wanted a new beginning, he said, far away from those who would criticise us for our relationship. Far away from the wife he was to leave, and the parents who kept an emotional noose around his neck.
James. The man of my dreams. My soul mate. I think of his gentle laughter, and the lock of tawny hair that falls across his forehead. I think of how he makes me feel with his touch: all tingly and excited inside. Will I still feel like that now? Four months after the last time we touched, hand to hand, and kissed goodbye as I left behind all I knew .
I look through the living room window, peering through the snowfall to see whether dim car lights are approaching. I peer in vain and I begin to accept that my wait, too, is in vain. He is not coming. My gentle James is not strong enough to leave the life that makes him unhappy. He is not determined enough to leave the people that dominate him and subdue his inner soul. I close the shabby curtains slowly, knowing that tomorrow I will leave this place to return to the life I had left behind.
Would you have waited so long?
(This piece of creative writing was inspired by Rebbecca T. Dickson in her Just Write Challenge)
© Colline Kook-Chun, 2013