The Last Word

He kissed her forehead as tears rolled down her cheeks. He didn’t know what else to say. He could say he was sorry, again. No, that wasn’t it. He could say, “I forgive you”. No, that wasn’t it either. He stroked her hair gently. Her chest heaved again as she gasped for air, not managing to get enough to fill her lungs, which only made things worse. She sniffed twice, rubbing the side of her hand under her nose before letting it fall against her leg.

She leant on the back of the sofa heavily as he stood next to her, staring into space. His hand rhythmically starting at the top of her head and trailing down to her neck, before it lifted back to her head. She’d tried to explain, he’d pretended to listen, looking around the living room with a glazed stare. Closing her eyes, she tried in vain to stop the tears. She didn’t know how long they’d been like this. It was worse than screaming, worse than insults, this silence. It crept over her skin like insects, making her shiver and wrap her arms around her stomach. He didn’t move. Top of the head, stroke down, top of the head.

His bag lay packed at the front door, abandoned. Like the screaming; like them. His things still littered the apartment. The mug he always drank coffee from, his toothbrush on the shelf under the mirror, his favourite book, dog-eared and stained, lay on the bedside table. She hadn’t mentioned them, she wasn’t sure she could find the words. It all seemed so final, so finished, so abandoned.

She’d found her breath, finally, but drops still fell down her face, splashing from her chin onto her chest and then creeping down between her breasts. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. His hand dropped from her hair, and he walked to the table and took a seat. She watched him as he leaned forward onto his knees, head in his hands.

“Daniel…” she whispered, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“Don’t.”

“But please!”

“No.”

“Talk to me!”

“Nuthin’ to say,” he shook his head, pushing himself up and leaning against the high back of the chair he had always found uncomfortable.

“There is! There's so much to say, Danny! Please, just scream at me. Get it over with.”

“I don’t want to scream at you, Katie. Just drop it.”

“You can’t leave like this,” she pleaded. He looked over at her, her face flushed, eyes red, and looked away. “I’ve said I’m sorry. What more can I say?”

“Nuthin’.”

“You’re a coward!” she choked.

“Maybe.”

He stood and walked over to his bag, lifting it with a grunt and slinging it onto his shoulder. He stepped over to her, resting his fingertips against the back of her neck and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She looked up and gripped his arm with both hands.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded, soft wet eyes staring into his. He shook his head, taking her hand in his and pulling it from his arm.

He returned to the door in slow steps. His feet felt like lead but barely made a sound on the carpeted floor. He pulled open the door and took out his keys, unclipping the one for the apartment and placing it on the side table.

“But, I love you.” she whispered.

“I know.”

He gripped the handle, pulling it closed.

She slid down the back of the sofa, knees up to her chest as she sat. Loud bawling sobs shook her body as the last word he would ever say to her began evaporating.

“Goodbye.”