His Lovely Wife

Chapter 2

There were no clouds in the sky to shield him from the sun. There was nothing else in the empty field to fill the role either. All that was there was dead grass and a dying tree surrounded by a patch of soil; soil which was growing several blades of healthy grass.

This would be a field of death left like this, but it isn't.

There is still life.

That life kept the lonesome tree company and her long blonde hair and white dress brought him comfort.

And he didn't feel so lost anymore, so scared.

The dead grass faded into the soft soil as he approached her back. The fallen leaves swept across the floor by her feet while her dress waved like sea foam breaking on the shore. Her hair parted and rejoiced being able to fly with the leaves.

The closer he got the more familiar she became. The closer he got the more he saw of her. There was the curves of her ear, the ribbons on her shoulder straps, the lines on her palms, and a golden wedding ring on her finger.

"Ah, that's right." He thought. "She's my wife."

He knew she was his wife, but something began troubling him.

"She's my wife, but I don't remember her face." He thought.

"I don't remember it." He fretted.

"I can't. Why? Why? Why can't I remember my wife's face?"

Her shoulder was warm underneath his hand as she began turning, the golden ring on his finger twinkling.

"Please turn around. Please, let me see your face." He begged.

"Please."

The dog barked and howled outside, ignoring its owners efforts to quiet it. A single window filled the bedroom yellow; one of the lime curtains tied to the side while the other hung loosely. With the room left just as messy as it was, the husband began to wake.

"I didn't get to see her face... why? Why can I never see it? Why can't I remember? Why can't I... remem..." He trailed off as he looked around the room.

"Where am I?" He asked himself.

Underneath the barking came footsteps. Light and gentle and growing louder with every step. Then a light knocking on the door.

"Honey? Are you still in there? I'm coming in now." And the door began to open.

The woman stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. She treated him to a warm smile, but that didn't help his worry.

"Sheesh, look at you, sleeping until noon again!" she said playfully.

But the husband wasn't playing. "Where's my wife? Where am I? Who are you?"

Her expression remained unchanged.

"You're home, silly! And as for me... well I'm your wife!"

"... My wife?" He asked as he scratched at his back.

She nodded. "Good morning, honey."

"You're not my wife. My wife has long blonde hair." He said, his guard still up.

She blinked and looked down. The barking carried the conversation a moment before she raised her head back up. She walked toward the bed and sat on it beside him. The husband scooted a couple inches away from her. She reached for his hand, but pulled it back.

"Yes, she does... but that was in the past, honey." She took a moment to think.

"Listen to me carefully: Your wife isn't blonde anymore, she can't be blonde anymore so she dyed it. That's it. And shorter hair is much easier for her to take care of," She quickly bit her lip before continuing, "I'm your wife. I'm your wife. This is how your wife looks now. This look is more... me." She finished with a bright smile.