It has been six years since my picture perfect life fell apart. Six years since my little angel gained her wings and flew up to the heavens. Six years since her daddy walked out of my life. Now, there's only me left behind slowly suffocating between these four walls. Sometimes I go out to breathe air, hoping to forget a little at a time. The irony of it all is I forgot the best parts of my life yet the pain still cuts deep like a fresh made wound. My last suicide attempt was also six years ago. Deep in the throes of my depression, I ran my car off a cliff only to wake up in a hospital bed with no recognition of my husband. It's not as if I don't remember our marriage. Only, I cannot recall what he looked like, as if he was just an illusion. His loss still hits me hard like it was yesterday. Like my family had just been torn apart, like I hadn't somehow survived alone without them. I rummaged through my luggage for the tenth time today but I can still find no evidence of their existence. All the wedding photos, family portraits, even sketches of his face seem to be missing. The funny thing is, I still remember what my baby looked like, I just can't remember her father. His visions still haunt me, I dream about him playing his electric guitar, shouting my name from the stage, jelling his hair into thorns, scratching his head in confusion but his features have blurred into a daze. I still wonder why he walked out all those years ago. But I also know that if he ever came back, I would take him in without a word. Perhaps this is my last line of defence, my thin shield of protection from being drawn into a self-destructive romance with him. I loved him with all my strength. I loved him so much that when he finally walked away, I had no substance left in me to hate him.
He'd give me no reason to resent him. The eight years that we were married, he gave up his life to be with me. While I was out working day in and day out, he dropped everything to nurse our sick daughter. He stopping drinking, going out, playing music to stay at home with our child. I had always thought I would repay his kindness one day but he left too soon. When our daughter passed away, he disappeared with her. Life went on without a hitch, work was just as hectic, my head still a mess. But soon I was too preoccupied with my own guilt to carry on. If not for my memory lapse, I would have ended up dead. Now, my life has found yet another purpose- to piece back together the puzzle that is my husband.
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I have perfected all the little stories, mannerisms, inside jokes she shared with him. The plan is being executed seamlessly. She has no idea what typhoon is about to walk into her life. Only when her heart is left in ruins, collecting the rummage will she realize what disaster befell her. I stood outside her apartment door with a guitar pick in my mouth. My ears were already pierced thrice on either side and her name was inked in cursive across my chest. I dragged an old electric guitar by the neck and leaned against the doorway waiting for her to open up. I saw her shadow near the window sill peaking at my figure outside. Then, it took her a total of four seconds to come dashing into my arms.
"Hu...u...h...", she opened her mouth to say something but choked on her tears. "I am sorry", she said after five minutes of spilling her snort out on my shirt. "You look like someone I know".
"Uh..huh"
"No, I thought you look like him from the way you dressed and...to tell you truth, I don't remember him. His face is blurry in my memory so I go crazy when I see anyone who resembles him even a little".
"Hey", I rubbed her arms in comfort. This was the crucial moment, I had to convince her now. "It's me, um?"
I added the "um" like he used to. Then, I wrapped my fingers around her palm exactly like he would, waiting for her answer.
"You? You? Really?"
"Really, I came back".
"You came back? To me?"
"Yes". This seemed to work. Her hyperventilated crying turned into gentle cooing noises. Like a scolded pet, she silently drew figure eights on my chest. After holding her in the same position for ten minutes, my muscles stiffened up. I lifted my forehead to look down at her. She was very much satisfied with herself, relaxed enough to steady her racing heartbeat.
"Aren't you going to ask me why?"
This was an essential question. Even if she wanted no knowledge of the past, I had to make up a valid excuse so as to sustain this strange relationship.
"No, you are here. That's enough", she rejected me outright. What a strange woman!
I told her anyway, "after Nina passed, I thought I should pursue music. I signed with an Indie label now. The band is doing well".
"Really?"
She walked me down to the couch and naturally placed her head in my lap, looking up and smiling uncontrollably. Am I the only one who feels this is stupid? No matter how much she loved him, she cannot just pretend their six years of separation did not happen. What if he fornicated with another woman? Ask some questions, you useless fool!
"Where are you sleeping tonight?" Okay, that's a question but not even close to being useful.
"Where do you want me to sleep?" I redirected the question. Nicely done!
"With me". Stupid! She is way too gullible when it comes to this man.
"What if I leave again?"
"I never said you have to stay", she answered honestly. "I am so grateful that you came back, I cannot ask for anything more. Everyday moving forward is a blessing".
I ran my fingers through her curls like he used to. Soon, she dozed off snoring in my embrace. I can hardly believe how easy it was to coax this foolish woman into thinking I was her husband. But good things never come this easy, I had to be cautious still. I took off my shirt to reveal my tattoos. Because of this one stupid project, my body is ruined. Come December, I have to shell out a month's worth of earnings for laser treatments. What luck!
She slept on the sofa for another three hours while I snooped around for clues. When she finally woke, she excited claimed, "I haven't had this sound a sleep in years. Thank you for coming back".
Yeah, yeah. You won't be thanking me later.
"Honey", she called after me all of a sudden. "Take off your clothes".
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Even though I don't remember his face, I can tell you every other thing about him. How much he sleeps at night, his favourite records, his brand of eyeliner, even how many times he gets up to piss. I know I shouldn't be thinking this, I shouldn't be doubting him. But he has come back after so long and a little rational voice in my head tells me I have to confirm his identity. His chest has my name inked on it. But every one knew that, the man was perpetually topless when on stage. I needed concrete evidence. So when he slipped out of his trousers and revealed the burn marks on his inner thigh, there wasn't a happier soul in the world. The curves of his stretch marks were carved into the shape of the Red Sea. It couldn't be anyone else, he was my husband indeed. Plus, the way he kissed me just then, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that I loved him. I loved this man, goddamn it, and all questions faded away with his one touch. Once again, I dived head first into a whirlwind romance that was sure to leave me hurt.
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I knew it would come to this. That is why, before coming here, I copied the exact marks on his body and etched them on to me. I became him and no one, not even his wife could tell us apart. She may have loved him once, but no force in the world could stop her from falling him love with me. I bent down and kissed her until my body was pressed against hers and she was pressed against the floor. She gave in without a fight. I guess there wasn't much to fight about. She loved me, or atleast the man she thought was me. She looked at me with twinkling eyes and chanted my name over and over again as she sunk into me. Indeed, there wasn't a woman in the world who could resist my charms.
