Of Mine Enemy

chapter twelve

Saiorse was not a thief. She understood the woes of losing things once held precious. Whether it be a twine of ribbon, or the finest of gold, if Saiorse could not pay for it, she did not take it. Only a very special thing could ever be worth thievery. No, Saiorse did not steal trivial things.

Saiorse stole smiles.

For months it seemed Saiorse slaved away to capture the smallest turning of lips. Each day a challenge to bring forth a happy gleam to her husband's eye. The further he dove into his work, the harder those smiles became to draw. Saiorse did not understand what it was Beckham thought so important that he pay so much attention to. He only left their home to fetch the food he never seemed to touch, even after Saiorse spent the entire evening cooking his favorite stew or heated delicate wine over the fire, suffering burns for the spicey treat. Saiorse feared she'd driven Beckham to hunch over his desk, slaving over his formulas and his books that seemed to magically appear out of nowhere.

Her fear grew stronger on one particular evening as the moon washed over its full cycle once more and still, nothing had come. She'd been around many women - friends with quite a few raising families as well - and all the tales they'd foretold of the grueling months matched her unfortunate experiences. So, as Saiorse stared at herself in the vanity, pulling her gown tight over her tummy, she was quite certain her fears were not misplaced.

It took days to gather the courage; Beckham, so dedicated to his work, only desired her touch when the wine she offered seemed to be a wee too strong. Conversation of their future all but halted - Saiorse wondered if he could no longer see past the yellowing pages of his work. Already a distant gap had wedged between them, his long nights spent at the hunched over desk leaving Saiorse to fend by her lonesome in the chilliest of nights. In the beginning Saiorse had enjoyed his tales of forging creatures with magic, Saiorse, real magic! But now, now it had become a terrible problem. Beckham had become obsessed with the unnatural and the welding of monsters from human beings.

He'd tried to tell her once they could have forever and not the romantic kind of forever he always spilled to her when he'd hint for the unbuttoning of her blouse. Saiorse knew Beckham believed they could truly live every rise and fall of the sun until the Earth itself crumbled beneath their feet - but she did not believe a word of it. Even the flowers spawned from the soil itself had its time. The rocks outside of the tiny cabin they'd made their home in would shift and change long after they left the Earth.

Beckham no longer accepted that the end would one day come, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps when they were old and grey; and it scared her.

As the evening drew close and the house became dark, Saiorse sat cross legged at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers over the oak. How would she even get his attention? He had left the world hours ago in favor of his new findings. She'd sent him to the market for sage, but he'd returned only moments later, eyes bright and jacket flying as he gave an outcry - he'd found a solution, he swore. He had placed a lopsided kiss to her mouth and abandoned the food fixed for him where Saiorse left it. In passing, she'd slapped it from the counter for one of his many 'tracking hounds' (he used them to hunt down what he thought went bump in the night) to greedily lap from the floor.

Shoving herself from the table, Saiorse marched down the halls, grabbing a candle on her way. Hip bumping into the door, she swung it open, hoping the cracking of the door against the wall would gain his attention. Beckham hunched over the desk, scribbling furiously over his parchment. Sighing, Saoirse slammed her fist into the wall. He barely flinched.

"Beckham," Saiorse called.

He waved his hand as if to dismiss her. Saiorse's brows pinched angrily. She sat the candle aside, storming forward. Hands wrapping around the ledges of his book, Saiorse ripped it from underneath his arm, allowing it to clutter to the floor. Immediate rage sparked over his face. He leapt from his seat, diving for the book, but Saiorse violently kicked it, sending it scuttling across the floor.