Every one quarrels

THE QUARREL
By
Jan Harrison-Brown

Why can she not see the sun for the clouds? Why can she not feel the
pain from inside of him? And why, Could he not hear the muffled sobs
from beneath the blankets?

I lay awhile, pretending to be asleep; I was lying with my back to her.
The torment of the day weighed heavy. Slowly, it ate at me. She always
knew best! Never was she wrong! Her stubbornness had infuriated me.
With her accusations and untruths. I had disbelief of the whole
situation.

Her sobs and sniffles kept him awake that night. He turned onto his
back and lay watching the passing traffics headlights, as they shone
across the ceiling. One - two - then another and another. He felt the
tension increase as he pulled tighter his crossed arms and clenched his
fists, with his head buried in his pillow. His frustration was now
unbearable as he rolled over to face her.

The street light shone in through the bedroom window, giving an aura to
the room, warming and softening the surroundings, in which they
lay.

I caught a glimpse of her shape in the shadows. Slender and slim. Her
naked shoulder protruded from beneath the sheet. As I scanned over her
neck, shoulders and hair, I could feel a sense of excitement. I inhaled
deeply. Holding my breath for a moment. Her perfume, the brand she
always used, pricked my nostrils. In a second, my anger defused, and
the warmth and feeling I could sense, made me long for her touch. Lust.
Tingled through out my body. I wanted her and I wanted her now!

"The animal." She sobbed, her most inner thoughts and dreams shattered.
She wiped her swollen eyes with the already sodden tissue. Her pillow
felt like a clod of earth, damp from morning dew.The argument was
petty, she told herself.
"Why did he say all those awful things to me? Why would he not see
reason? And why, would he not see, I was only trying to help?

She felt the bed move as he rolled over. She stopped crying and
listened, not daring to move or make a noise. She lay wondering, was he
sleeping? Or was he in the same torment? The silence became painful.
She wanted to talk, but part of her knew, it would be of no use. Her
reasoning would not be seen. He would never listen, or see what she was
trying to say - Be it right or wrong!
Lifeless she lay there. The thought of his touch despised her. Her
bitterness made her close her eyes even tighter, and as thoughts
flashed by, the odd tear trickled down her cheek.

We'd not long been together, and all night we would dance. Some felt it
to be vulgar! To give such a public display. Around the ballroom, we'd
sway, this way, and then that. No one else seeming to have, the grace
and ease that we would perform. The room full of courting couples and
Gentlemen standing, trying to look impressive, and important. Ladies
sitting, like sensual, coloured wall flowers, looking on at us, and
following us, as we pranced around the room. Many longing to be in my
shoes and in the arms of this charming fellow. But, to us, the hall was
empty. We were alone. In our own paradise. They could see, a match made
in heaven. We'd stare. Longingly, into each others eyes, The bottomless
pit to our souls. The music would play in the distance, softly,
sweetly. I don't remember what the music was. But, I do remember. We
were in love.

She felt his arm wrap around her waist and he pulled her closer to him.
She could feel his warm breath in her ear, the sensation stung as it
traveled down her spine, their bodies molded into each others form. It
felt welcoming.

Slowly she turned to face me, and as our eyes met, I lent up on one
elbow. Our gaze now fixed, I smoothed away her hair from her face. I
kissed her cheek softly, gently. The taste of clammy, salty skin
touched my lips. I kissed her again.

His touch felt wonderful. We'd been so wrong, neither fully to blame.
Had we not shared enough pain? My lips warm and his tender met
harmoniously.

The rest of the night became fruitful and passionate.
The quarrel forgotten - until - the next time. . .