Lips of an Angel

Part 4

The paper crumpled under Ashley's fingers and a lump burned in his throat as the last of Denise's words ran over and over in his head.

No, no this can't be true, this can't... “Den?”

A frown of anguish creased his brow and he looked back down at the letter in his hands. He smoothed out the paper again, a strange choking sound falling from his lips as he did so; he should preserve her last words. Would he believe them tomorrow, in a week, if he couldn't read the letter over again? Did he really believe them now?

It hurt to think about it, the shaking in his hands successfully creasing the paper more than he managed to smooth it; in the end he set it down on the coffee table. Maybe he wouldn't actually need to read it again, the cursive words seemed to be etched onto the inside of his eyelids when he closed them to drag back some composure. Surely Denise wouldn't play a joke to cause him so much pain? Could there really be truth to the tale she had told.

But how could there be, how could his Denise be dead? But she wasn't his Denise any more was she? hadn't been for a long time.

She'd been sick? Even when they'd been together, she'd been suffering with whatever ailment it was that had been the death of her. Ashley's mind wandered back over the course of their entire relationship and he realised that she was right. The signs had been there, subtle, almost dismiss-able – which is exactly what he had done. Why had he ignored the signs, never questioned them once? They'd all seemed like nothing at the time; besides would she even have confided anything in him?

He thought they'd had such an honest, frank relationship given the number of spats and arguments they'd had and worked through, coming out the other end seeming stronger for it. All that time she'd been hiding such a secret, such a big burden. And now she'd relieved another burden on him so that she could finally move on.

Suddenly Ashley jumped to his feet, there was somewhere he had to go. Those words couldn't be her last, that couldn't be how they said their goodbyes. There was only one place Ashley could think of to go where he might get the chance to see her one last time.

He all but ran for the door, almost colliding with Sasha as she pushed it open; just returning from work and dripping a wet puddle onto the floor with her folded umbrella. It must be pouring outside.

“Sorry,” Ashley called back over his shoulder as he rushed out of the door, neglecting to even grab a coat in his haste.

“What? Wait, Ashley, where...” But Sasha's words escaped him as he burst through the main door of the building and was swallowed up into the mist and noise of the summer rainstorm. He thought he'd heard the flat door slam behind him and Ashley had a feeling he might be facing a night sleeping on the sofa. But he would make it up to Sasha, he had a lifetime to love her and to treat her like a queen. Denise was all out of time.

Ashley raced along the pavement, his feet splashing loudly through the torrent of water that flowed along the street from the sudden downpour. Heavy raindrops soaked him through to the bone in minutes, though he hardly noticed.

The trip into town took no time at all – they didn't live far very far away from the town centre, but his usual, leisurely walking pace always extended the walk considerably. Barely 10 minutes of his brisk jog and Ashley was staring at the wrought iron gates of the graveyard; who'd ever have thought he'd be visiting the place twice in one day.

The dark grey of the sky and thick lashing of rain made the rows upon rows of neatly aligned headstones feel dark and foreboding. Ashley hesitated at the gate, so many emotions twisting and turning in his gut. They made his body shake, bile rose in his throat and grief stung at his eyes. Did he really need to do this, or was he just being a fool standing out in the rain?