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Friday October 17, 2008

Both women’s eyes were closed.
“He’s gone.”
She didn’t answer the person who had just accompanied her. Instead, she just nodded, knwing full well she couldn’t see her.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“No, Bette. I want you here, actually. You’re the only one that knew him like I did, inside out.”
She moved a little closer and rested her head on Bette’s shoulder. Bette draped her arm over Tina’s shoulder and took hold of her hand. She softly stroked the blonde’s fingers and they sat their in silence.
“I feel so guilty,” Tina voiced her feelings. “I feel so guilty for letting him go.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Everybody says so, but it was.”
“What could you have done? He was only walking out of the door, he was only crossing the street. If it was anyone’s fault, it was the fault of the driver of the car that hit him. The irresponable son of a bitch that was racing as if he was in some sort of video game is to blame for all of this, not you.”
Bette spoke the words softly, but with strong emotions. She was so much like him, the strong protector.
“He asked me if we were ready, if I was ready… if I had said that I wasn’t, he would have stayed. He would have asked me why and if there was anything he could do.”
Bette remained silent. She was now staring at the painting right in front of her.
“It was his favourite,” the brunette said after a while. “I remember when we saw it together for the first time. We were absolutely sold, but it was just too expensive. He has always been a fan of Paolo Vulno.”
“I can still see him standing right in front of us. He could gaze at it hours on end. Sometimes I still expect him to just come in through the front door and wonder why everybody’s here in black and depressed.”
“He’d be offended if he knew people weren’t wearing any cheery colours. And have you seen Ian Ramsey? Peter would never have wanted him here.”
“I know, he’s such a hypocrite. But what can I do? I can hardly kick him out.”
Silence fell again. They both knew there was no sense in trying to make conversation, and neither felt the need to. Both women’s thoughts were with Peter and the moments they had shared with him.
Suddenly, Tina felt how Bette’s body was shaking. She opened her eyes and looked up at the brunette. Tears were falling down her cheeks, streaming down, rivers of pain. She had to gasp for air, her breathing rather short. The heartache was evident in her face that was strained with pain. Tina hushed her and took her in her arms, rocking her silently.

Downstairs, people were beginning to wonder where the widow and the sister of the deceased were. They hadn’t been seen around for a while.
“Maybe they are upstairs?” a young man wondered. Next to him was Jayce, a colleague of him. She was the receptionist at Bette’s gallery, he was Bette’s personal assistant.
“I don’t know, don’t you think it’s a bit inappropriate to go there? It’s private…”
“What if something happened? What if they fell over and broke their necks?”
“You worry too much, James, but go and take a look if it eases your mind.”
James left his glass at the nearest table and went straight to the stairs. As he was climbing them, he saw two figures leaning against the wall, eyes closed. When he reached the top, he saw their entangled hands. There were still traces of tears on both women’s faces and they were breathing deeply. James decided to let his boss and her sister-in-law sleep. They needed it. Little did he know how true his thoughts were. Little did he know what there last spoken words to each other had been before they had succumbed to slumber.