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Post by captain benjamin harland on Mar 11, 2010 1:58:10 GMT -5
Benjamin was broken down. Where he had once believed that his life was resplendent with blank pages eagerly anticipating the tale of his life, he now knew differently. An aged quality had claimed his movements; a knowledge searing beneath the fleeting gazes of those he passed as he made his way through the market. Leaning heavily against his cane, he paused at a stand to inspect their produce, selecting three potatoes and paying the shop owner with a few tarnished coins. Nodding his appreciation, he tucked the sack into the dirt-stained cloth bag and continued on his way through the damp, cobble-stoned streets. All around him were signs of life – a young mother calling out to her children as they scattered before her like pebbles; shop keepers hawking their wares; regale carriages and wooden carts. Farringdon Market was the great equalizer, combining everyone. He had once loved spending an afternoon merely watching everyone as they performed their tasks and lived their lives, enjoying the seamless waltz as lives unwittingly intertwined. Now he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the refuge of his small flat. The people milling about reminded him that he was still alive.
He had requested another tour with one intention: to never return from it. If he had died while away it would have been deemed a noble sacrifice – a brilliant young career lost before it had ever begun. He imagined the memories he would leave his soldiers, of the stories they would retell over fires until the day arrived that his name was no longer a shadow in their minds and he was forgotten. Unlike the men beneath him, there had been no one to return to once their mission ended. No warm body to press against his in the chill of night. If he returned, he would arrive to the same lonesome place as before. Yet it was late at night, as he tried to formulate tactics to end his life that her voice drifted across his consciousness. “I will see you again.” In those moments he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his temple, feel the desire to hold her consume him, and he knew he could not hurt her that way. Somehow Aíne would know the truth when she learned the news – somehow she had always been able to know.
Still, he had not contacted her since he had returned, preferring that she remembered him as the strong man who had left instead of the battered individual he had become. A low, hissed curse escaped his lips as the now-familiar pain seared through his veins. He had been told that he may never be rid of it – that it would become as permanent as the scars on his leg. The doctor had told him that he should be grateful, that it was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t lost his leg. It had been his opportunity to die and he hadn’t taken it. He wasn’t the hero they hailed him as; Benjamin Harland was nothing more than a coward.
It had been a fool accident that any rookie soldier could make – lighting a cigarette after refilling his rifle. Benjamin had watched in horror as the flames sparked on the young man’s fingers, quickly claiming his jacket. Benjamin hadn’t thought as he rushed forward, knocking the young man to the ground as he smothered the flames. The rifle had gone off in the commotion, the bullet lodging deep in his left calf. He hadn’t noticed that he, too, had been burnt – hadn’t felt the pain until days after. He could have chosen death but for some inexplicable reason had continued to live.
For her. Everything he did was for her.
Some life, he thought dully as he stepped inside the familiar confines of his home once more. Cheesecloth, thin and wavering in the breeze, acted as curtains for his dirty windows, and were the only decorative touches he had added to the small room. All the other furnishings were part of the fee he paid to lodge here. A small wooden stand stood by the door. Shrugging out of his woolen jacket he hung it over the top of the oval mirror that required silvering. A chipped white china pitcher and bowl sat on the weathered shelf of the stand, a small bar of yellow soap and his razor placed neatly beside it. He limped forward, placing the sack of groceries on the small butcher-block counter before continuing to his bed at the far end of the room. The heavy gray wool blanket was pulled taut over the sheet, the pillows smooth and undisturbed. With a groan, he settled onto the edge and worked to remove his boots. He had never removed shoes before the accident, but had come to discover that the pain lessened without them. He never had company, and so, felt no need to maintain appearances for them.
Leaning back on the bed, he ran his hands over the faint stubble on his jaw and exhaled heavily. Try as he might to formulate a purpose for his life he continued to come up short. With his injury he might never return to the frontlines and then what? He loved a woman who belonged to another and had lost the one thing with any reason in an attempt to flee from her. “You’re a fool, Harland,” he muttered to himself. “A bloody fool.”
A hesitant knock at his door was enough to end his self-deprecation. Sitting up slowly he reached for his cane once more and began his slow hobble toward the door. “Be right there,” he called out.
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Post by aíne donoghue on Apr 1, 2010 23:49:10 GMT -5
 The needle clutched between her two fingers, she wove over and under the garment with timed grace. It was just a hem on a rough wool skirt, like most of her work. She had done this countless times over, the method like breathing. Under, over, under, over. This particular fabric scratched against her freckled hands, she wondered how the owner could stand it rubbing against their legs. Yet, as she sat in her cramped flat - coarse linen wrapped around her own figure, she supposed one became used to it. Oh, how she would love to hold silk or lace in her hands. Let it caress over her raw skin, and soothe the aches and wear. Her gaze immediately fluttered to the closet door, where yards of Irish lace lay folded behind the peeling paint. It had been a Christmas gift from Danny – to make a dress of it for the day they opened their shop. She looked away from the closet door, and to the figure sitting silently across from her.
He looked out the window in a blank stare. His body slack against the wooden chair. She wished she knew what he saw, what images hid behind his deadened eyes. They had been bright and full of life once – his warm, brown eyes. It was what she loved so much about him – the pure liquid warmth that melted in the hues of his irises. They were hollow now, enough room to fill the expanse of her chest. His once rosy skin had paled to ash and cinder, flaking into the air. The soft chestnut curls atop his head remained limp, no longer ruffled in thought or play. In truth, the man before her was no longer Danny Donoghue. Only a shadow of someone she once knew.
She reached tentatively out and placed her hand atop his. He did not react – his eyes transfixed on the nothingness. She squeezed gently. ”Danny,” she cooed. ”Would ya care for something to eat, love?” He remained still. She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. She gazed at him for a moment longer, waiting as always for him to look back. When a minute passed and nothing changed, she let go of his hand. Opening the pantry, she found only a satchel of flour, enough to make perhaps a half of a biscuit. Retrieving her money purse from beneath the bed, she found a couple pounds stored away. She stared at the empty pantry and back at Danny, considering if it was worth it to leave him with Mrs. Coddington, the old woman who lived downstairs. She was kind enough, but the fear that in her absence Danny would be taken away always chewed at her marrow. Shuffling the coins in her palm, she tucked them into her pocket. She walked over to Danny, and pressed her lips against his brow, and whispered “I’ll be back soon” before getting Mrs. Coddington.
As she wandered through Farringdon Market, she instinctually felt at home. Her quiet flat was much too tame for her wild heart. As costermongers shouted their wares, shoppers haggled over prices, and children dashed and laughed through the streets, she sighed. This was home, this was where she belonged. A light tune played against her lips as she ambled down the cobblestoned street. Before buying anything, she stopped in front of the flower cart. Brilliant shades of flowers clustered in baskets but it was tiny subdued purple blossoms that made her chest swell. Picking up the heather, she cradled it carefully in her arms after giving the seller tuppence. Danny had never given her these flowers – no man had. These flowers grew in wild abundance over the fields of her Ireland, a gift spring had always given her.
”Those are lovely,” Aíne turned to face Caroline McKeely, the wife of an old comrade of Danny’s. Aíne smiled and shared a knowing glance with Caroline, who had grown up in Scotland. ”Thank you, I couldn’t resist. It reminded me too much of home to pass” Caroline nodded in agreement, sweeping a curl behind her ear. ”I haven’t see ya in such a long time! Where have ya been off ta?” Aíne fiddled with one of the stalks of heather as she replied, ”Oh, just taking care of Danny…” A soft blush rose on Caroline’s cheeks as the knowledge resurfaced to her memory. ”Is he well?” she asked timidly. ”As well as can be. Though it has been harder with the compensation gone. I haven’t been able to get out to stop by, to ask what happened.” Caroline stared for a moment at Aíne, confusion clearly displayed in her eyes. ”Compensation…?” she asked, knitting her brow. ”Ay. We received a couple of pounds every month as a soldier’s compensation…that’s what Captain Harland…said…” As the words fell from her lips, she understood. The compensation had stopped when Captain Harland – when Benjamin, had left. The comprehension left Aíne pulling for breath.
”Perhaps ya should ask the Captain. Joseph said he’s returned from his tour, though no one has been seein’ him much.” Aíne looked up dazed to Caroline. ”Benjamin is back?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. And amidst the din of the market, Caroline was unable to hear her. ”There’s Joseph! I best be off! Find the Captain, I’m sure he’ll know. It ‘twas good ta see ya again, say hello to Danny for us.” And with a gentle smile, she met up with her husband and continued the life Aíne was meant to have.
Aíne leaned against the wall of a building, and crushed her purchases to her chest. Benjamin was here. Her chest began to heave as her heartbeat raced. For six months, she clung to delicate moments when she felt all had been taken from her. In those six months, she began to realize how much Benjamin’s company consoled her. Something felt missing from her life, and yet she persevered, keeping those thoughts locked. Something unknown was seizing her, and she didn’t know whether to fight or give in.
Without thought, she began walking. He had told her his address ages ago, in the case of an emergency. The thought of visiting him had never passed over her thoughts until this moment. She looked at the street signs, oblivious to the masses of people as she weaved effortlessly through them. Turning down a lane, she found the street number. The building was of old, worn stone – ivy crept through the cracks and weaved along its surface. She smiled, this was the Captain’s.
As each stair was ascended, each pound in her chest grew heavier and louder. Before she could stop herself, she tentatively knocked on a wooden door, and then it was too late to turn away. A familiar deep voice sounded from behind the door, and she found herself helplessly aching for that comfort she had missed. Suddenly, the door swung open and there Captain Harland stood, barefoot, before her.
”Benjamin…” she mouthed. This was not the stony-faced captain that showed no vulnerability, no emotion. Her eyes quickly took in his unshaven, sharp jaw line and the weariness in the blue of his eyes. What had he gone through? Suddenly she became conscious of the fact that she was standing there without any explanation. Looking down to the heather, she smiled softly up at him. ”I heard you had returned, so…so I brought you these,” she said in a quiet voice. For a moment, all that could be heard was the rush of life outside. Then she saw.
His stance – typically so rigid and stoic had crumbled ever so slightly as his weight clearly distributed entirely to his right leg. ”What…what happened?” she asked tenderly, her eyes glancing down to his leg and back up into his cerulean eyes. Then, without forewarning, the thought of him gone forever from her life washed over her. Suddenly overcome with sorrow, she dropped her flowers and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck she whispered, ”I can’t help but say, I’ve missed you, Benjamin.”
She knew how entirely inappropriate she was acting. She was sure he would never come to see them again. But she couldn’t turn from the overwhelming presence of comfort when she had been alone for so long. Her nerves seared. Her chest quivered. And her whole body trembled. And as that unknown feeling seized her again, she gave in irrevocably.
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Post by captain benjamin harland on Jun 16, 2010 23:49:10 GMT -5
This was a dream. Cruel and acerbate; he knew by heart for that was what it contained. His every desire, every hope was etched upon the features of the apparition before him. Benjamin knew the soft blush of freckles that tickled her nose and cheeks; the errant strands of hair that she would curl behind her ear. He missed her soft scent of milled soap and fresh bread as it lingered in the space that she did not. It was the scent of home – a place he had not realized he was missing until he had found her. Every night that he had been away Aíne had come to him. His name remained a whisper upon her lips and he often wondered if she had even uttered it. He would wait with bated breath as she came to him, reaching out with trembling fingers. It was then that the dream shifted to nightmare and she vanished as she must because she was not meant for him to hold.
As Aíne slipped through his fingers with as much substance as fog, Benjamin would drift back to the moment where her fate had become entwined within his own. “Promise me something, Benny. Promise you’ll look after me Aíne if I can’t.” Danny’s voice cracked as it pressed against Benjamin’s consciousness. Trapped within the ailing man’s words lay the acrid taste of betrayal. He had often wondered how much Danny had sensed about his illness – if he had known that he would never return to his beloved wife as a whole man. There were nights where Benjamin had wondered what would have happened if Danny had simply died rather than hang on, if it wouldn’t have been better for them all. If he had known he wouldn’t recover from the fever why had he stayed, a mere shell of who he had been, haunting them both? The answer pressed against his memory and Benjamin was no longer able to ignore the sound of the other man’s voice. “Ah, Benny, ya don’t know love. Not like I do. Such things never die.” Danny was unable to exist without Aßne – a sentiment Benjamin could not debate.
The dream had never occurred in his home, always hers. This small, damp flat was his refuge. There were no memories of Aíne here because she had never come. Yet there she stood, beautiful in her vulnerability and he felt the familiar desire to hold her in his arms electrify each nerve. A hesitant smile teased her lips as she looked up at him, her slender fingers idly playing with a piece of heather. “I heard you had returned, so… so I brought you these.” His jaw tensed as he regarded her, waiting for the dream to become familiar once more. She had never spoken when she came to him, never looked as real as she did in this moment. He longed to tell her that she needn’t bring him anything, her presence was enough. She was enough. He could exist if she knew she was out there, happy and loved. The purple shadows beneath her eyes belied the truth time had bestowed upon her in his absence. Danny was still ill; still trapped within a prison he had created deep in his mind. He had often wondered how the other man could gaze upon Aíne and not find the strength to return. Benjamin knew how torturous it was to stay away. “What… what happened?”
I wanted to die. The words seared against his lips as he fought to hold them back. I wanted to die so you could finally be free. Instead of speaking the words aloud, Benjamin slipped back into the familiar persona of a stoic militia captain. It was who Aßne knew; who she expected. She already had one broken man to contend with and the last thing he wanted was to burden her further. His lips parted to reassure her and tell her that it was nothing and would heal. Before he could find the words she was moving toward him. Benjamin’s breath stilled as he waited for the moment she would disappear leaving him alone once more. Instead he felt her crush against him, arms encircling his neck. Her breath was warm against his neck, silken strands of hair curving into the hollow space between them. His body moved without conscious thought, arms encircling her waist and pulling her closer. “I can’t help but say, I’ve missed you, Benjamin.” Pressing his lips against her hair, Benjamin inhaled her soft scent. This was where he belonged – the home he had always sought – and no matter how inappropriate their actions, he knew he could never push her aside again. “You’re all I thought of. I… I won’t do this to you ever again.”
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Post by aíne donoghue on Jun 17, 2010 3:39:20 GMT -5
When Danny had been away, she often sought the rare afternoon sun in Hyde Park. One afternoon, when the August sun had burnt away all other clouds in the sky, she found a bright blue butterfly upon her forearm, kissing her freckles. The wings were iridescent in the sunlight, a color she had never seen before. It fanned its wings lazily – the delicacy and fragility of its beautiful wings evident as the sun pierced through them. As quickly as it had come, it fluttered off again – fading into the bright azure sky.
- - - - - -
He smelled of fresh soap and clean linens. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The heat of his skin warmed her cheeks, and she nestled her head further against the curve of his neck. She breathed in again – her breath coming in trembling boughs. He was pulling her to the edge of a vast longing. She shivered in response, goosebumps rising on her freckled, pale skin. She tried not to put any of her weight against him, but all she wanted was to be closer.
“You’re all I thought of. I… I won’t do this to you ever again.”
As the words fled his mouth, she gripped his collar in her fist. Unsought tears suddenly began to flow down her blushed cheeks. You’re all I thought of. The words were like hooks into her flesh, burning her skin and nerves until she was raw.
”You could have died,” she whispered. His arms tightened around her waist at her words. A quiver suddenly ran through the extent of her body. Her breathing shallowed as she tried to pull herself deeper into his embrace.
”You could have died!” She repeated, pounding a heavy fist against the flat of his chest. She pulled her head off of his shoulder and looked at him, frowning. ”What were you thinking?!” Tears continued to fall across the archipelago of her freckles. ”You can’t leave me Benjamin, don’t you understand? You can’t.” She repeated the two words over and over as she fell against him again, her tears soaking the fabric of his shirt in a dark blossom. The tip of her nose brushed just barely against the length of his neck, but he moved his head slightly in response. She looked up at him, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw with her eyes, until she reached the soft arc of his lips. She lingered there for a moment, before her gaze swept up to meet his clear, blue eyes.
His words came back to her again, ”You’re all I thought of.” Suddenly she became acutely aware of his arms around her waist, the feel of his heart against her chest, the tangles of his hair caught in the soft grasp of her fingers. Moments collided in brute force upon her mind. For how long had she been blind? Weeks? Months? She felt as if she knew the answer, judging by her own beating heart.
She reached up, her parted lips lingering against the cusp of his full mouth, waiting for him to close that space between them. The yawning expanse that had always divided them. This was the closeness she yearned for – that she had always yearned for, she realized.
”Don’t leave me,” she said, the words brushing against his lips like the downy beat of butterfly wings.
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Post by captain benjamin harland on Aug 24, 2010 22:23:12 GMT -5
Benjamin had only ever perceived strength in Aíne. He had known other women over the course of his career from varying walks of life. His uniform had opened many bedroom doors and there was a time where he had readily sough the escape they provided. In each he had found the same act in which they feigned vulnerability. Beneath their lowered lashes and demure smiles they hid themselves hoping to make him feel greater – as though he possessed something they lacked. Aíne was different. Strength exuded from her. It was there, trapped within slender and calloused fingers. Fingers he had watched stoke the fire or absently stir her tea. He had spent countless hours watching her mend clothing for people incapable of realizing that their hems were stitched together with beautiful dreams. Her strength was liquid and hard in her deep cerulean eyes. He often worried over them when they appeared red-rimmed and bloodshot from vigils kept at Danny’s side. Benjamin saw the strength of her determination whenever those tired eyes gazed upon Danny’s wasted form or his name was mentioned in conversation. Aßne refused to concede – it was one of the reasons he had fallen in love with her.
Nights were always filled with thoughts of her; of worries and dreams and Benjamin often wondered how Aßne’s eyes had looked before he had allowed her life to become eclipsed by ghosts. He was certain he had seen it once on a crowded harbor a lifetime ago. Hope had sparked bright in her blue eyes as she searched the crowd for her husband. She had been radiant in that moment. Sun glowing in the pale folds of her dress; illuminating her hair. He had known who she was the moment their eyes had met. Danny’s stories had failed to capture Aßne for she was never meant to be contained. With one look she had penetrated a lifetime of defenses leaving him raw and breathless. Somehow he had found the words he was required to speak watching as realization stole her joy. His words hadn’t been necessary; knowledge had darkened her gaze before he’d uttered a word and Benjamin had braced himself for her collapse. Instead he had watched as something fierce and hard had steeled itself in her eyes. He handed Aíne back a mere shadow of who her husband had been and knew that he would never be the same because of her. In the time since he had never seen her falter; never saw a tear or heard a whispered regret. Her strength had always been what had drawn him to her. Somewhere in the time since their first meeting, Aíne’s strength had become his own.
The cool dampness of her tears against his shirt threatened to break him. He had watched life slip from a man’s eyes and listened to their last words as they rasped against pain but they did not compare to the woman leaning against him now. “You could have died,” she whispered. His grip tightened, drawing her closer, longing to shield her from all that she had been made to face. He wasn’t strong, not like she needed. Her words flooded his last defenses, washing away the little that had remained. He was hollow, raw. Her touch seared as it healed and he never wanted to let go. “You could have died!” she repeated. “What were you thinking?! You can’t leave me Benjamin, don’t you understand? You can’t.”
His hand nestled lovingly along the base of her neck, downy strands of baby-fine hair brushing against his fingers. He made no move to stop her small fists as they accented her cries; no move to silence the tears she had kept bottled for too long in his presence. Benjamin wanted her pain and frustrations. If he could ease the weight of her burdens for one moment he could atone for all his presence in her life had cost her. Aíne was so good that it caused him to ache knowing what he took from her. It caused him physical pain to know that he would have to let her go. Holding her now he wondered if it was possible for a man to go mad with desire and if he hadn’t already. “Shh,” he murmured. “I came back, didn’t I? It’s just my leg. God gave me two for a reason.”
Aíne shifted in his arms then and Benjamin waited for her to pull back. For the moment where the warmth and comfort she had provided to disappear and be replaced by the cold embrace of his longing once more. Instead she looked up at him, her glassy eyes studying his face, searching it. Her firm resolve had cracked; enabling him to glimpse the pain she had kept concealed for months. It was not the pain that unnerved him now. Benjamin had long expected that it was there and that she was too stubborn to acknowledge it. Aíne had never admitted to needing anyone or anything during his visits. Danny had told him as much, cautioning Benjamin to keep his wits should anything happen. Her obstinacy was the reason he kept his assistance from her; why he could never free his mind from thoughts of her. With her defenses down he could see her fear, her heart and it threatened to tear him in two. As her eyes met his once more, Benjamin saw the thing he most feared: knowledge.
Time ceased. All that existed was her – the press of her body warm and soft against his own; the way she was looking at him. Benjamin knew he would carry this moment with him forever. It would sustain him long after she had left and he was alone once more. He wished they could remain forever cocooned in this moment where desire overshadowed reality. Here they could forget that they could never be together; forget the man who had forgotten them. The longer Benjamin looked at her, the easier he found it to read want in her eyes and the angle of her body. He wanted nothing more than to strip away everything that lay between them. From the corner of his eye his rumpled bed beckoned and it required every ounce of strength he had to remain where they were.
His own lips parted, searching for the words that would betray his heart. If Aíne did not leave soon all that remained of his resolve would crumble. Too much time had passed since he had last seen her and her presence assaulted his every sense. He breathed her in, cherishing her scent, allowing it to repaint his faded memories. If she remained he knew he would cause her a lifetime of regret. Neither of them would be able to look at Danny without the knowledge of their betrayal tainting them. Watching her leave undamaged would be the only noble thing he ever did and Benjamin swore he would spare her from experiencing pain ever again.
“Don’t leave me,” she breathed, her words coaxing life back into his haggard bones. He felt his righteousness dissolve along with them.
His grip on her tightened, afraid that if he released her now that he would lose her. Urgent and desperate his lips closed the gulf between them. Benjamin had spent his entire life searching for meaning to his miserable existence and knew that it was Aíne. It had always been Aíne even before he knew who she was. Here, in the desolate flat he called home he knew his purpose. He had been asleep until this moment, moving apathetically through life and believing he saw color when it was merely shades of gray. Aíne was his light. She brought color to his drab existence and he never wanted to let her go. Warm and honeyed, his kiss expressed all his inadequate vocabulary could not. Gone were there excuses. Past and future melted away in the heat of the present. Months of longing now navigated for them. He pulled her closer, not wanting anything to steal the moment from them. Only once his lungs burned did he release her. This time there was no apology in Aíne’s gaze, only hope. “Don’t be foolish,” he breathed as he reached up to brush his fingers across the smooth camber of her lightly freckled cheeks. They were still damp, tears clinging to her long lashes. His voice rasped with emotion and for the first time he did not regard it as a sign of weakness. It was strength to feel for her as he did. She continued to sustain him without realizing it. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”
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Post by aíne donoghue on Sept 29, 2010 14:24:12 GMT -5
Dear Danny,
It has been years since I last heard your laugh or seen your kind eyes. I thank God for giving our families the sense to teach us to read and write. I find a sort of peace in writing these letters. Though I know you won’t receive one of them, in some way I think my words reach to you beyond this paper. It is hard to imagine you away from me, lost in places I can’t begin to imagine. Whereas I sit mending some of the ugliest pieces of clothing you ever did lay eyes on. I miss you Danny, but as these months go on, I feel as if I am beginning to forget what it feels to truly miss you. My memories of you have faded to dull pieces of thoughts. Knowing this letter will never reach you, it is why I can write this.
Why did you leave me Danny? There is an emptiness that grows in me, and it frightens me. Where are you? I loved you and it is this love that leaves me.
You are waking now in the next room. I keep waiting for a sign from God to know what to do. I think he left me long ago though, back when I was still just a girl. It is only me left now. Myself and the hope that I will know what to do.
Love,
Aíne
Benjamin’s lips were against hers. Like the breaking of a seal, their kiss tore away a previous barrier that had separated them. Emotions held captive, enfolded upon their intertwined figures. The rush of blood warmed her freckled cheeks and tingled the cusp of her lips. She could feel her heart pounding against her bones; the tips of her fingers trembling and what she could only describe as the swell of a wave rising within her. She gripped her fingers in his dark hair. After Danny had been carried off the ship, the Aíne she had known her entire life, fled. The tempestuous girl who she had been in her fair share of scrapes and tumbles with was gone. The fire, the longing, the selfish girl inside of her had died. Left was only a miserable hope – ice that could not melt, leaving her frozen in an inescapable path. But their kiss had shattered it. The overwhelming sadness that unknowingly had woven itself into her flesh slid off her skin. She had needed this closeness, longed for it. Pulling herself deeper into his embrace she didn’t want to break this thread that had begun to pull her back. When she felt as if her bliss would consume her, Benjamin pulled softly away. “Don’t be foolish. I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”
She stared up to him, and thought of the years she had lost. Her innocence had left her, washed away with the tide, leaving only traces of wrinkles where it ought to have been. She had known sorrow – its clutching thin arms trailing her throughout childhood. A child of the famine, her family had lost her father and four of her siblings. She was nine when they buried her father in a shallow grave. They had already lost two boys, Michael and Colm and little Kate. Her mother had no more tears to shed as the youngest children wailed for the pain of hunger and fever. Aíne had held onto the patched folds of her mother’s skirt, grasping onto the wiry stems of heather in her other fist. If she held on hard enough maybe her brothers and sisters would stop crying, her father and siblings would return to them and her mother would remember how to cry. But her uncle began to fill the grave and she knew she had not held on tight enough.
She tried to meld herself into the arc of Benjamin’s arms encircling her. She wound her arms along his shoulder blades, pressing her bare cheek against the hollow of his throat. How long had he felt this way for her? How long had she pretended not to notice? ”For how long have ye known?” she whispered aloud. She felt his chest rise and fall, his skin against her skin, his bones and her bones. An unfamiliar feeling had settled along her nerves. It took her a moment to remember – it was the sense of feeling safe.
”It don’t matter. For so long I’ve had to look out for myself. I’d forgotten what it felt like to not worry. But whenever I saw you, for those brief moments I felt like I had once. It’s like I’m home.” Suddenly she heard a door shut from down the hall and approaching footsteps. She loosened herself from his embrace and slid past him, pulling on his hand to follow her into his flat. Picking up the heather she had dropped she placed it carefully onto a bare table. Twirling one of the small purple blossoms, she realized she had never been here before. Taking in the room – bare, but clean – she knew it belonged to Captain Harland. Slowly she looked over to him. Standing still he watched back at her. Something had been loosened from his usual rigidity. She swore his eyes were even a deeper blue.
With a gentle, languid smile she crossed the room and sat down on his bed. Drunk with the heaviness of their kiss, she felt the space that divided her and Benjamin ache in her chest. For a moment he remained where he was, as if the wood grain of the floorboards knotted him to the same spot. But then he moved, his walk slow and hindered from his leg. A knot formed at the base of her throat at his injury in so plain sight. Yet, he moved with the same straight posture as always. When he neared, she took his rough hand into her own and kissed the weave of lines that threaded across his palm. He sat softly beside her, and rubbed a thumb along the camber of her cheek. Lithely, she pressed herself against him, their lips clinging blindly to one another. Her hand slipped across the smooth plane of his chest as her top garment deftly fell off her shoulders beneath his hands.
The captain and the soldier. Like the heather that she had left atop the dark soil as a child, she knew she would have to eventually let go.
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Post by captain benjamin harland on Sept 24, 2011 2:54:36 GMT -5
The first blush of evening stained the sky rose; the cicadas’ song fading only to be replaced by crickets. Lanterns were lit, giving the small canvas tents the appearance of jewels across the deserted Indian landscape his men now called home. Tomorrow everything would be packed away and they would continue their journey north. The fragrant spices of the city were replaced by the sweet humid air of the desert. His jacket was stained with the desert’s sand, and the fabric reminded him of the soft cotton of a woman’s dress as he reached for the cigarette and small tin of matches in his pocket. As far as he could tell matches were the single most important piece in any soldier’s arsenal. It was the link between the foreign world they were immersed in and the comforts of home. A cigarette, no matter how stubbed, was something to look forward to at the end of a long day, and in many instances that small tin of matches was the only thing they could control.
Sunset seemed to linger in India, allowing the colours of the sky to remain warm as the air cooled. Perhaps it was a gift from one of the many Indian gods to their people after a day of unbearable heat to allow them respite in the evening. If he believed in any god, Benjamin would want one that provided such small pleasures, but he could not bring himself to believe. In all of his journeys he had been unable to find a god that spared mankind from suffering. There had to be something, though. Here, amongst the symmetry of the dunes; where the stars appeared so clear and close that he was certain he could collect them in his palm, there had to be something more.
“Oy! Cap’n! Join us fer a game?” The sound of one his men broke his thoughts, and for a moment Benjamin considered joining them in a game of cards around the fire. He shifted his weight in preparation to walk and felt the slight weight of letters press against his thigh. Aíne. “Not tonight, lads! I’ve got other business to attend to.”
He spent many of his evenings in solitude, unable to bear the riotous laughter and jibes about the wives and girlfriends they had left behind in England. He could not mention her name, but he could envision the soft camber of her cheek and firm press of her lips as she gazed toward the bedroom door. Benjamin knew the way she moved her spoon through a glass of tea and how the errant strands of hair framed the face he was cursed to carry with him.
Is this to be our fate? Forever longing for something that will forever slip from our hands like the sand in this desert. We both long for your happiness. We both long for conclusion. When I die, whether it be here or on a different tour, I hope you will understand a measure of why I have done all that I have and forgive me. Though your heart will never be mine, know that you will forever be the sole proprietor of mine. You have become my refuge, my escape. It is your smile that warms me against the nights chill. It is where I hide. Please know that even though I am gone, that is where I shall remain. This is the way it is. There cannot be any compromise for this is how it was meant to be: me belonging to you and you belonging to another. I love you. I love you with every breath and every tear. I can only hope that my meagre belongings will somehow atone for all that I have burdened you with. If you remember nothing else, I beg you to remember how I loved you.
Benjamin
He stared at the ink drying on the dirt-stained paper before folding it into quadrants and adding it to the pile that he carried with him. Those words were the truth he could not speak, but the recipient would never read them. There was no address or names, nothing that could connect his affection to the woman they were meant for. He had written her name once before casting the page into the fire just to see how it had felt. Aíne would not cry when she learned his fate; there would be no children clinging to her skirts as his casket was lowered into the uncaring earth. There would only be his name etched on a stone. All of his worldly possessions would be bequeathed to Aíne and Danny; they would sell them and it would be as though Benjamin had never existed.
- - - - - -
Desire coursed through him; each breath ragged as he waged war with himself. Every nerve ending seemed alive, sparking against the stillness. “It don’t matter. For so long I’ve had to look out for myself. I’d forgotten what it felt like to not worry. But whenever I saw you, for those brief moments I felt like I had once. It’s like I’m home.” He remained still as she crossed the room and sat on his bed; it creaked slightly beneath her weight. As he watched her, Benjamin knew that he should stay where he was, but couldn’t. Not when she sat so near and far. Not when the ghost touch of her lips still lingered upon his. Yes, he thought, this is home – the only home I’ve ever known.
He wanted to run to her. To take her into his arms and love her, never letting go, but his leg slowed his progress. He walked deliberately, hoping to mask the extent of his injury from her. She had enough worries without adding him to her list. With each step he could feel the charred remains of his letters to her against his leg. Some had been completely destroyed, but others had remained. They were battle-scarred and lacking their former beauty, but they remained, and Benjamin had not been able to part with them. The letters were more of an embodiment of himself and Aíne than the words they contained. When she reached for him, Benjamin could only close his eyes and pray that she never let go.
He sat hesitantly beside her, slowly tracing the freckles that dusted her cheeks with his thumb until she pressed herself against him and closed the space between them. He could lose himself in her kisses; forget time and place and reason so long as she was close. Her nimble fingers slipped the straps of his suspenders down his arms before reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “Aíne,” he whispered. “Are you certain? If we continue forward we cannot go back.”
No matter her decision, Benjamin knew that he would never be the same.
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Post by aíne donoghue on Nov 15, 2011 1:36:47 GMT -5
“Aíne, are you certain? If we continue forward we cannot go back.” Her hands fell to her lap as she stared back at him. She hesitated.
- - - - - - - - -
She laid in bed, watching as the thin gray light of morning snuck into the room. Her auburn hair, usually pinned back, fell behind her shoulders in soft waves. She was alone, as she had been for many years now. She heard the low, hollow coo of the mourning dove sound outside the window. She thought of Danny listening to the birds the other week, their calls sharp and chirping. She hadn’t known he had been listening as he sat beside the window, staring out as he always did. “The birds sung,” he began. “They sung. They sung. ” Aíne looked up from the hem she was mending, laying the garment on the table.
”Danny? It’s alright.” She walked towards him until she kneeled in front of him and placed a hand carefully on his. He stared across to her, their gaze connecting for the first time in weeks. ”Who sung my dear?” she asked. He raised his eyebrows as if willing her to remember. ”The birds sung. I heard them. You did.”
”I did?” He stroked down her forearm carefully, as if brushing a soft coat. He watched his own hand for a while, and then looked up. “You wore white.”
Tears rushed down her cheeks as she remembered. On their wedding night tiny little birds she hadn’t know the name of, twittered in a tree outside the pub where their reception was held. They had been so loud some of her cousins had gone outside, throwing rocks into the tree to scatter them. The sounds of the birds were jarring, a pulsating squawking as twilight smudged her vision. She had stood, arms folded tight, watching her cousins drunkenly yell and throw stones at the towering oak. Danny had found her and pulled her in around the waist, a pint tucked into his other hand. ”Ignore them.”
”The birds, or me cousins?” she had asked in a sigh.
Danny laughed deeply that resonated in her chest. ”Both. Don’t let them bother ye. Come inside, me love.” He had leaned his forehead against her head, whispering the last part and then a soft kiss on the arc of her cheekbone.
She looked back at her husband, thin and empty, like linen pulled too tight over the lid of a jar – the weave slack and drooping, unable to use. She wondered what was left inside him. She imagined his memories like wet newspaper, pulling apart in her hands, the ink running. Aíne stared at him, trying to hold onto his gaze. She could feel her throat clenching closed. But then his gaze shifted and she lost him.
“They sung. They sung. They sung! They sung!” he began to yell, banging his hands down on the wooden armrests. He jerked violently in his chair, scraping gouges against the floorboards. Aíne yelled his name over and over again, attempting to calm him. She grabbed him with force, running her hands down his arms, something that calmed him. He resisted for a while, moaning and trying to resist her touch. At last, he calmed. He watched out the window in a dampened gaze.
She straightened his blanket and rubbed her fingers over his hand. She stared up again as her last tear dripped off her cheek. She rubbed at her cheeks as they had begun to itch from being wet. She sat down at her work again, picking up the garment. Her hands struggled to find the rhythm of sewing. She thought of Danny’s repeating words, trying to find more meaning than they ever had with to begin. She imagined again the birds singing in the tree on their wedding night. She rested the dress in her lap as she stared out to the middle-distance and frowned.
The birds hadn’t sung. They had screamed.
- - - - - - - - -
She sighed deep, pulling the blanket close to her chest. The mourning dove cooed again before flying off in a flurry of soft flapping. She felt a gentle hand rest on the curve of her bare waist – the weight, eliciting a gasp from her. “Are you stealing my blankets?” a deep voice asked, still rough from sleeping. She rested her hand atop his, gripping onto his fingers. ”Is my hand cold? I’m sorry.” His hand was an ember, creating a bundle of heat beneath his palm. ”No, ye’re warm,” she said, turning her body beneath his hand to face him.
The hint of a smile was tucked in the corners of Benjamin’s mouth. She reached up to touch him, her brush of fingers delicate and curious. She smiled softly. She tucked her arms close to her chest and nestled her head beneath his chin. ”Keep me warm.” He wrapped his arm tight around her in answer. She sighed again, pure contentment aching in her chest – too large in something so small. ”I love ye,” she said silently, only mouthing the words, afraid to lend them sound lest they be true.
- - - - - - - - -
“…we cannot go back.”
Her hands in her lap, she gazed at him, taking in the depth of him. He was here, holding her with full knowledge of who she was. She brushed his hair back with the tips of her fingers. “I don’t want to go back.” she said decidedly, before pressing her mouth unyieldingly to his.
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