The 12th Kiss

❁stars, stars

            "Well, if my sister's husband brings his mistress to MY house, there are meant to be some casualties."

Metilda's smile broadened. She was glad Talihra was her sister.

They weren't related by blood. Their appearance made it clear. Talihra's tan skin and silvery hair juxtaposed with Metilda's honey colored eyes and brown hair. They used be friends in their college days that is until Talihra refused to acknowledge her as a friend but instead as a sister.

"I love you. Have I told you that before?"

"A million times. I'm going to do prayer now. You want to join?"

            Even their religious beliefs were different but that never bothered them. Sometimes Talihra would go to the church with Metilda. Sometimes Metilda would pray to Talihra's gods.

            "Yes, I want to ask them a few things."

Talihra's smile dimmed. She placed her hand Metilda's shoulder. "Everything happens for a reason. We have to keep our eyes on the light, not the darkness."

            "It's hard to at times."

"I know it is,"

❁❁❁

            Talihra's god was dressed in light yellow silk. A garland of freshly plucked lilies hung around the golden neck of the god. He was beautiful in his black, bouncing hair and diamonds embedded into the embroidered dress.

            The entire puja room smelled of sandalwood and roses. Metilda sat beside Talihra, her hands folded together.

            The wind chimes sung a pleasant tune by the window.

            "John says he loves me yet he wants to leave me. I know Jannet was the never the reason for the broken state of our marriage. We had fallen apart long time ago. It was like I was sleeping walking through our lives until one day I am jolted out of sleep by John's new relationship. By then it was too late."

            Metilda took in a deep breath, kept praying harder than she had ever had.

"I was so occupied by the struggles. Every day was a struggle for me. I had Louis, then my career was on the rise. Things were hectic in those days. I don't know God when he drifted away. I don't know what to do anymore."

The wind rustled through the curtains. Metilda's eyes were dazed. She felt Talihra's hand on shoulder.

"Look what I found."

Metilda took the small note from Talihra's hand.

            Forgiveness is the final form of love.

"Thank you," She whispered to the marvelous golden statue.

            ❁❁❁

Louis was sleeping soundly in his room and Metilda was about to retire to her own room when she heard the front-door open. She wanted to go straight to bed, not in the mood to face John today, not when she felt so peaceful. But her instincts told her otherwise and she always followed them.

When Metilda walked into the living room, she found a bruised and bandaged John collapsed on the sofa. He was breathing heavily. His eyes had been bruised and both his arms were wrapped in a cast.

"Oh God," She ran to John. Her John, the first man to love for all that she was.

            "I'm fine." He moaned. "I swear I am."

"You sure are." She forced John back into the sofa. "Stay. I'll make you some tea. It'll help you sleep and ease the pain."

            "They already gave me morphine."

"Then be ready for that headache."

He sighed and collapsed back into the sofa. "Fine."

            "How did it happen?" Metilda spoke through the kitchen. He could hear her pull out the kettle.

            "It's not a very exciting tale if that's what you're expecting."

            She turned on the tap and water rushed into the kettle. "I still want to hear it."

"I decided to outsmart the murders. They were hiding in a deserted outpost by the sea. Chief and I tried to force them out but they wouldn't come and kept on firing at us. I ducked under the car's hood to dodge the bullets. They eventually ran out of bullets. Somehow Chief and I managed to capture them and bring them to the police station."

            "How did you fracture your arms?"

            He grumbled something under his breath. "It's not a fracture, just a sprain."

"So how did it happen?"

John wished she wasn't so persistent. "At the police station, I slipped over a banana peel and fell down the stairs. Chief took me to the ER and drove me home."

            Metilda started laughing. "The cunning detective is defeated by a mere banana peel. What a glamourous tale!"

"If you were the one in pain, it wouldn't be so funny."

            She walked outside with a tray on which rested the kettle, a tea cup, and saucer. 

"Your pain is my pain." Metilda whispered. She titled her head slightly, strands of hair fell over eyes. "It has always been. Even when Aunt Rein died. When you cried, I felt the pain."

            John lifted himself off the sofa. His face mirroring the calm before a storm.

"Are you done?"

            She grabbed the back of his shirt, preventing him from moving on. "Forgive me, John. Please."

            "Let go, Metilda. This is the last talk I want to have with you."

When she didn't, John screamed. "I said let go!"

            And she did. Metilda knew she had tried. She forgave John for all he had done wrong and now she knew there was nothing left to do but watch time take its turn.

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Note: everything is beginning to play out. The pieces will soon fall into place. Only you can tell if this story was worth telling.

Meaning of the words

Puja – Prayer