How long am I going to sit here staring at this bloody chair?
Two years since he sat in it. I can still hear the clink of glasses, the soft music in the background that became important in the lull of laughter and conversation. I feel that chuckle deep inside my stomach even now watching him lovingly as he cleaned every speck from the plush velvet seat “Rice, Rice” I hear his voice “Bloody rice, sticks like glue. We will not have rice at our dinner parties anymore.
The wind is still blowing, trying to rush in autumn and doing its best to blow the trees bare of their leaves.
I wonder if there is any Brasso? Ah yes here, pushed way back here in the dark recess. That would never be. Always on the ready, right in the front row of the cleaning cupboard was the Brasso.
I hear his voice singing `shake shake shake’ and see the little dance he would always do as he got the Brasso out to clean his chair. “What am I doing? This chair has had it. Oh well, I have it ready now. When will these tears stop? Brasso, tears, chair, tears, memories, tears. Time they say, time…well… two years have passed and that is time enough for me. It isn’t any easier and it will never be any easier, that is a lie to say it will.
My face looks weird in the reflection. No wonder he would shine the brass surround so often; he was so vain. He was beautiful though. What he lacked in height he made up for in everything else he possessed. His smooth brown skin, high cheek bones, chocolate brown eyes that danced with every piece of his personality- kindness, humour and sympathy for anything that existed on earth that was mistreated.
Dance with me Robert .Dance…STOP HEAD, STOP!! STOP WITH THE MEMORIES!
Shit oh shit I am so, so sorry, I know you say I am clumsy but you always forgave me but what would you say now that I have spilt Brasso all over the velvet of your precious chair…Fuck. Fuck you brasso, fuck you chair fuck you Damien for dying, fuck aids; fucking world.
Thank you wind, stopping just at the right time, would never have made it to the garage otherwise. Hurricane season is not a time for the outdoors. Screwdriver … this one should do.
If you can see me from up there Damien, don’t look, I will have this fixed in no time.
What have I done to you Damien. I didn’t mean that one night stand. You were away so long. I closed my eyes and pretended it was your warmth, your love. As soon as it was over I couldn’t believe I let myself pretend to that extent. It was my overwhelming need for you in a moment of madness and you had to pay for it before me. Now, now I am tearing you apart again.
The one thing you bought with you was the chair, your only memory of your Mother, her chair, you lovingly restored it, cared for it as if it was your Mother and now I have ruined that as well.
It broke me when you were diagnosed, it broke me when I had to tell you what I had done. It broke me when your eyes filled with loving tears and forgiveness…that is so you.
I can’t fix it, no more than I could fix you.
I didn’t think I could break anymore but this; your chair ruined; It is the last straw. I am sorry.
This is your favourite place Damien, you couldn’t believe this was so close to our home; so quiet, nature at its very best. Hurricane season or not, this lull gives the peace I need.
Sit with me Damien, this your chair, do you mind I have bought it here to your favourite spot. I know it is damaged beyond repair but we will be together and hopefully you can forgive me again.
I am taking my shoes off Damien. I would never stand on your chair in shoes. You would be horrified.
Remember when the ranger put this fence up. You were so pissed off, spoiled nature you would say. Well this fence will not keep us apart Damien – Your chair will see to that. My love is coming home to you.
They found my body at the bottom of the ravine. An old damaged chair next to the guard fence. No suspicious circumstances was the finding.