Now They Know

The nurse handed me a cup of tea and I sipped it, despite the fact that my stomach churned at the mere thought of food or drink. How could this have happened?

I'm the one that never puts a foot wrong; the darling of my parents the e'er-do-well, the whitest of the white sheep in my family. At least I was, until today.

No one knows what I have done, yet. Perhaps no one needs to know. That's what he told me anyway.

"It will just be between you and I. Please, Cassandra.

I close my eyes as I remember the way his gaze held mine, the pleading light in his sea-green eyes. I could never deny him anything and now it is done and there is no going back.

The nurse says something and I look up at her, puzzled. She makes a small gesture and I turn my head, see my mother standing there. I run to the haven of her arms, bury my face against her cashmere sweater. She holds me.

He held me, too, in those last moments. His once strong arms encircled me, wasted fingers stroking my spine where we lay drowning in each other and in our grief. Slowly, gently, his arms slipped away and I was alone.

The tea cup stands on the small table beside my chair, the liquid grown cold as he grew cold in the hours before I called the ambulance. I had promised him I wouldn't until I was sure, until there was no possibility¦

And no one need ever know.

There is a stir of movement at the end of the corridor, a doctor approaches. Two young men in dark blue uniforms flank him. I stare at the blue and white bands on their hats and slowly get to my feet.

"It was what he wanted, I whisper.

And now they know.

(C) Meg Britton 2005