Muse

I was struggling getting the wheelchair over the doorway threshold. As the wheels gave way, I started pulling the chair in the sunlit garden, the soft rubber wheels touching the pavement still wet after a morning rain.

I continued pushing towards the gazebo, with one hand blocking my eyes from a sharp noon sun. The woman in the wheelchair was sitting still in the light breeze, long thinning hair flowing down her blouse, deep brown eyes fixed on some point she couldn't see.

I briefly stopped and stroked her hair, then continued to squeeze her carriage past the rose bushes as the deep pink flowers followed us with their heavy heads, watching our progress towards a bench on the empty side of the garden.

Rustling of leaves in the mild wind was interrupted by a slightest of moans. I bent over towards Ellen and whispered in her ear:

"What is it, Ellen? Do you want to settle around here?"

Another soft moan.

I pulled the wheelchair near the bench on a grassy lawn and sat down beside her, taking her hand in mine. My knees creaked slightly as I put my weight on recently repainted wooden boards and relaxed my back, putting its weight on a sturdy curved seat.

We sat there among the bushes of marigolds, surrounded by lavender fields. Her expression was peaceful and relaxed as she was looking at the flowerbeds. Some days it felt like she was actually smiling, even though I couldn't ever see her move a muscle.

"Fucking hell", - I mumbled, looking at the tiny speck of blood oozing out of my finger. The scarlet drops were covering ivory paper I was working on for past weeks. My first days were quite slow, referencing a letter in the table, then going back and carefully piercing thick yellowish paper lined with a ruler. After struggling with writing more than five pages a day I've managed to build a set of tools out of wood blocks and staples, creating every letter of an alphabet and pressing those tiles one by one each time I wrote the book. It was monotonous, tedious job, but after days of work seeing her hands run along the surface of paper was all the gratitude I ever needed.

She was sitting on a bar stool, reading 'Postman' and smiling to herself. I sat down on a creaky wooden chair, looking at the plate set before me. The baby yellow colored mass of egg yolk, sliced onions and milk was reflecting dim sunlight coming from the kitchen window. I glimpsed over dirty counter and a mountain of dishes in the sink stained with yesterday's dinner.

"Ellen", - I said, my temper rising, - "it's half done and looks like shit."

"Oh, you want me to prance and dance around for you!? Here you go, love, your perfect breakfast is ready!?", - she said, springing up from her stool and throwing book on the table.

"I want a meal I can eat, not something you give to a swine!"

I stood up and threw my jacket over the shoulder, picking up my wallet and reaching for the door handle.

"You can eat a dick then, Matt!" - she yelled after me.

As I was closing the door I heard a plate shatter against the wood, undercooked omelet hitting the floor with a wet squelch.

"Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just.. We ran inventory this whole week, some expensive stuff is missing and it's my problem now. Dave left few weeks ago and I'm getting suspicions it was actually him. Police might have to get involved. It's a huge pain in the ass."

Ellen's head was in my lap. I was switching programs on TV, trying push every crappy thing that happened today out of my brain. Ellen's eyes were half closed and she was picking a spot on my knee with her manicured finger, looking sulky. A fly was buzzing against the glass, struggling to get out in the evening air. Fascinating, how those annoying insects can find the tiniest gap to get in, but can't find an open window to fly out.

"It doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that", - she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I know, and I already said, I'm sorry." - I replied, stroking her hair.

She turned around, putting her face against my belly button. Her hot breath reached through my shirt and a chill ran down my spine. I ran my finger around her earlobe and down her neck. She shuddered a bit and smiled the way I loved her to smile.

"Ellen, please, I'm trying to sleep.", - I moaned, turning around and putting a pillow's cold side over my head.

"Let me just finish a chapter. Go sleep on a couch if that's annoying you."

I turned around and threw my pillow down.

"The hell? You can go sleep on a couch if you want to read your goddamn book."

"Fine!", - she snapped, pulling a bed cover and striding out of the room, slamming the door shut.

"I do." - I said, trembling with anticipation.

Months of delirium, hundreds of fights, tears over finding seating for my uncle Phil that was too friendly with drinks, the bridesmaid canceling over a break up and invitation cards being not exact shade of white were behind us.

"I do."

Her red lips parted open to utter a single sentence. She looked so radiant in her milky white dress we got after driving six hours to the only right dress designer. After hours in a stuffy little shop I felt like strangling that uptight guy. This was the sixteenth time she was crying that week. At least now they were happy tears.

Kissing her I could barely hear applause and whistling over the sound of a tiny heart pounding against my chest.

I was spying on the girl sitting under tree's shade, a book in her hand, an expression of utmost concentration fixated on her face, eyes jumping from line to a line. I was rehearsing the speech in my head, getting more nervous by the minute. What if she tells me to go away?

I walked over to her, suddenly aware of my feet being too big for my body and hands waving like windshield wipers in a dire need of maintenance.

"I see you're reading 'Postman'? My friend gave it to me and I just can't keep reading it. Does it get any better?" - I said, breathless, dropping on an vacant spot beside her.

She met my eyes with hers and smiled gently.

"Yeah, uhh... It's good, I like it a lot."

"I'm Matt and you are?", I said very fast, half of the words getting stuck in my throat. I felt my cheeks and neck get really hot.

"Sorry?", she eyed me, her smile getting wider.

"I'm Matt. And what's your name?"

"I'm Ellen."

Her face flushed with various shades of pink and she hid behind her book. After a minute or so she peeked over the cover to find me struggling with a bookmarked spot in my copy.

"Do you want to read it together?"

"I would love that."

I opened the door to my study, feeling uneasy. Ellen sat in my favorite leather chair, a book in her hand. The reading light was on, dropping a bright spot onto her lap, shining a reflection of a glossy book cover onto the wooden floor.

"What are you doing here?", I asked.

She raised her eyes and met my furious expression with a defiant one.

"I just felt like being here. You know, since I don't have my book anymore I got one off your bookshelf."

"I told you, it's my private space. Get out!", I yelled, my face burning up.

"See? That's how I feel about you touching my things!", she said, as if mocking me, spinning in a chair, with an insane smile disfiguring her face.

"Get out.", - I whispered with a hoarse voice, my hands shaking.

She got up and slowly walked across the room.

As I turned my eye towards the chair I felt my heart drop. The leather surface was sliced and cut open in a hundred different places, feathers poking out like a whipped cream drops in a black coffee.

"What the fuck is that?", I turned around to Ellen. She was standing outside the room, her face full of malice.

"I thought, if you can cut my books, I can cut your things as well, it's only fair."

I walked over to her, my legs feeling numb, my eyesight fading in a dark mist.

"It was a gift from my grandmother. She cared about me more than you ever did."

Her face dropped. She poked my chest with her tiny finger.

"Too bad she didn't leave you anything useful, like a working dick."

I don't remember why her body was lying on the landing downstairs, bathed in a light coming from the dining room.

Her back curved under an angle I though was impossible.