Neomythology - Soulmate

She told people they moved for the kids, but that was really just an afterthought. It was true that Lake Forest had great schools, but this was only casually mentioned at the end of his speech explaining why they were moving.

It was the opportunity of their lifetime, he had said.

“The opportunity of our lifetime!” She echoed the words happily as she gazed into his eyes with adoration. He kissed her, the only person in the world who understood.

It was sad how nobody else could understand. Her colleagues at the hospital kept insisting she was giving up on her future, and besides, what would she even do all day?

“It's for the kids,” she would say each time it came up. This was the one thing she knew would make them stop talking, the one thing they wouldn't argue with. There was no point in trying to say anything else.

She would have followed him anywhere, but this time it was to chase a dream. They moved into the house his great-aunt had left him, and just as he had promised, the children loved their new school.

“Of course they do,” he said. “Why wouldn't they? It's the best.”

“The best,” she sighed with contentment as she rested her head on his shoulder. Everything was so perfect, the children had to be happy. This was the opportunity of their lifetime.

When he ran for mayor, she just knew he would win, and he did. She didn't much care for the political life, but seeing him shine, his golden hair as bright as the sun in the spotlight, gave her a warm feeling inside that words could never express.

One day, when she was out shopping, a young reporter tried to catch her for an interview.

“Is it true your husband has been taking bribes from construction companies looking for contracts?”

“Bribes from construction companies looking for contracts?” She laughed, raising her eyebrows as she looked at the younger woman.

“Are you saying you have no comment?”

“No comment.” She walked away.

She saw the stress start to eat away at him. He would stand for hours in his office, scrutinizing the portrait that hung behind his desk.

“Is that me?” He asked her this often, as his hair lost its luster and the years built up on his forehead. “Who is that man? Can that be me, really?”

“Really,” she said, running her fingers through his thinning hair and placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck. “Really.”

He flinched at her touch, and pushed her away. The last thing he wanted was reassurance from this sad old creature, this pathetic wretch who would never have her own portrait painted. Her compliments were insults in disguise, wasted admiration from a nobody.

He couldn't see the pain in her eyes, and she didn't know how to say it was there.

He had one affair, and then another. He met a younger woman, and he fell in love when he saw himself reflected in her eyes. This one listened to him, truly, and she was able to see things the way he did. It was so nice to have someone to talk to, he thought, and he kissed her. The only person in the world who understood.

When the story broke, that younger woman used herself as her own source. Shocking expose, the headline said, before revealing that the mayor had confessed his corruption in a very intimate setting.

They found him behind his locked office door. He had taken his portrait off of the wall and rested it on the back of his chair. Almost ritualistically, he had leaned his head back against the image of his own face so the gun in his mouth fired through the canvas behind him.

She couldn't be bothered to attend the funeral. She didn't want to see it, and she didn't want to hear it. So many words, so wasted, people always talking, talking, talking, with nothing important to say.

Her son didn't come home to say goodbye, but her daughter did. The girl - no, the woman now - was just in her second year of graduate school, but she was old enough to cradle her mother in her arms like a child.

The older woman felt so frail, her bones as brittle as a bird’s. Her daughter stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, and her mother seemed to find some comfort in the closeness.

Her daughter wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure if she should even speak. If silence couldn't be inherited, she must have learned it on her own. After thinking about it for what seemed like hours, she decided to try.

“You should eat, mama. You're dying. I know you miss him, but--” she hesitated. How could she say this? “But, after everything that happened, everything that he did, maybe he is better off now?”

Her mother smiled, and nuzzled her gaunt cheek against her daughter's chest.

“He is better off now,” she breathed softly. A sense of serenity washed over her heart, and she slept.

♥