Chapter thirty: Parchment
The winter time has passed in its sombre majesty; having brought skies of richly marbled greys and trees so elegant in their bare beauty. Those cold days for calmness and reflection are waning and a new energy rises. On the spring day, Margo sees the flowers that are to colour her world for the warmer days to come, waving in the breeze like a smile born of the cosmos - happiness in brilliant shades. She lets her eyes flow from tree to tree, noticing the buds ready to open into the light, to be as green flags in the ever-warming wind.
The river is soft, wending its way between the banks that are the new vivid turquoise only the springtime can bring. In the post dawn light the water doesn't sparkle like it does at noon, instead it is mellow like a Monet painting. Up ahead is the bridge Margo stand on every morning, it's basic and functional, beams of wood from bank to bank with a rail on each side. Already her eyes are scanned the ground for sticks to complete step one of her daily exercises.
She spied a rotten branch, human snapped, likely dropped by some dog going by the teeth marks in it. She snapped it over and over until she can't get the leverage for another break. She wipe the damp fragments of bark onto the skirt of her flowing summer dress before throwing the stick far into the field for her dog to fetch.
Through the unmown grass which pushed against the vibrant flowers, blew a breeze that tickled her exposed skin. Stifling a smile, she enjoyed soaking up the vitamins the sun's rays had to offer. With a long exhale to the pristine clouds above, in through her nostrils and out through her mouth, she felt reformed.
The winter months were harsh and only brought her an internal warfare of addiction and agony. In the blizzard with nothing but the bottles of alcohol to turn to, she'd grown accustom to the familiar feeling of being guilt ridden and alone. She was not lonely as she had her beautiful daughter and her husband whom she'd married in a registered office. But, she was alone. In her woe, she hid a frown behind the neck of a bottle and drowned her demons in the liquor, swallowing the fire and accepted the pain and refused the company.
They say a bad parent was a traumatised child, caught in the fires of their own suffering, their thoughts more hurricane than poetry or soul. Only, rather becoming her mother, she became one herself and allowed her title to resuscitate her and spew the venom from her liver. If Ben couldn't help her, surely, her living flesh and blood could. The wake up call led her to a new, cleanly cycle of love and health and as she realised she'd neglected Aurora for the daily fixes of wine, it obliterated her and she promised to better herself for the love of her daughter.
The addiction was fuelled upon the realisation that William wasn't coming back. When she was with him, the pain had stopped and without his muscular arms which held her tight, keeping her protected at all costs, she resorted to a less helpful medicine that only ruined her much more than William ever could.
If she stopped to dwell for a second, she'd soon find her face wet with tears and her crackled lips would taste the salt. The end of their relationship was that of a breakup of sorts, for she was grieving the loss of a person who was still very much alive, whether he felt that way or not.
After spats with Ben, she would soon realise she couldn't pick up the phone and talk to her human shoulder to cry on. Instead, the booze was her best friend. With its contents, she would become intoxicated to the point where she couldn't see Ben, only his brother whom her heart so desperately yearned for. She made a mistake, all those many months ago, however, maybe it was for the best. Perhaps Will felt the same way, no longer fighting for her, thus, he didn't return her calls or attend special occasions. Perhaps, he moved on.
In the permanent fatigue of tragedy, she had to accept his departure, because after all, she was the one who pushed him away, even if she didn't want to. At first, it was hard for her to walk across the bridge over the water, for she could only see herself and William, in their younger years, playfully shoving one another to see who'd fall in first, and whoever dropped into the river would pull their companion in with them, which would blossom into a heated session of passion along the grassy bank.
No longer able to eat at fast food restaurants, she found herself staring into the windows to where she and Will once sat, throwing fries into each other's mouths and whoever scored three in a row was rewarded in a milkshake, however, it was a pleasant treat for both, seeing as how they retrieved an extra straw to share the contents.
Every time Ben lay behind her, tangled in their white love-stained sheets, goosebumps rose along her arms with each finger he twirled in her sandy hair. She hated visualising William toying with her locks from behind and every time she went to attack the stranger, she found the much older man standing, a cheeky grin on his face and when she'd stick her tongue out in response, his laugh would echo and still, to this day, it radiated inside her mind every time she heard Ben chuckle.
Despite the monotonous downward spiral into a pit of depression, light shone through the well and guided her onward and upwards. Ben had been affected by William's departure and with knowing it was for the best, it still hurt him to know that Margo was commiserating for Will. He wasn't as stupid or naive as she supposed he was. He turned a blind eye for so long that he forgot how it felt to be loved so purely and passionate, the same way in which she felt for William, but with his loss came the undivided attention, and with the newfound flame, followed the happiness in the spring.
In the early rising sun, she walked home and patted the fur of her golden retriever. In the dust, her cowboy boots created small clouds of dirt and with the straw hat resting on her head to block out the heat, their modern countryside farm came into view. The house itself stood tall with celadon wooden panels landscape with the same colour of front door, a grey cross-gabled roof, a chestnut beam overhead and a wooden porch which was supported by a mixture of cream bricks, accompanied by steps to allow the individuals to enter the haven.
Smiling, she heard the neighing of horses that awoken from a full nights rest, and soon, she was sure the cattle, pregnant sheep and pigs would follow suit. With the farm not too far away from their back garden, she was able to see the horses beginning to roam in their pens. She never would have thought she'd be in the position to call this paradise her home. Hell, she never would have thought she'd been alive by twenty nine with a loving husband and precious daughter.
The morning sun shone through both the cream curtains and blinds, showing the beauty of tanned hues in the sparkling light. With Ben's broad back moving with steady breaths, Margo could see the beautiful pattern of moles and freckles that imprinted on his skin. His hair had grown longer since the failed attempt of a wedding. Now, the ends of his hair licked above his shoulders and the hairs on his face had also grown, however, a beard was a major turn off for his wife, and so, he kept the moustache above his lip with the stubble around his jawline.
Ever so gently, Margo got back on top of their bed after taking her boots off. On her side, her frail hand traced along her husband's handsome features. This time, she saw him for himself and not his brother, and just when she thought she was over him, life always had a backup plan to revoke her attempts of committed thoughts.
"Mornin, baby."
Ben's husky voice never failed to make her thighs tremble. Through his disorientated blinking eyes, he felt his wife trace around his swollen lips and he barely placed a kiss to the tip of her index finger.
"I didn't mean to wake you up, Benny. Go back to sleep."
With an exasperated sigh, he rolled his body over onto Margo's lap and rested his head on her thighs. His eyes locked with hers and with a small smile gracing her pump lips, he let out a soft moan. Even after all this time, certain things she did never failed to make the blood rush to certain areas in his regions, and this morning was no exception.
"Well, I'm awake now." He grumbled playfully.
Peering down to the tent in the white sheet, she smirked in satisfaction. "You can't tend the farm with distractions now, can you?"
"Wanna know what I think about as a distraction?" After hearing a small hum in response, Ben continued, licking his lips. "You in your army clothes, all hot and bothered in the jungle."
Scoffing, Margo lightly slapped his chest. "I was hot and bothered, but not in the sense I assume you're talking about."
"You were in your hotel room though." He sang.
"Oh, shut up." Margo pushed him away from her lap and stood up from the bed. "I'm gonna go and make breakfast. Are you hungry?"
"Not for food."
In a swift motion, he'd pulled Margo back onto the bed, only this time round, he was in control and raging with hormones and power. With her legs slightly agape and her dress revealing her mid thigh, Ben took the opportunity to retrain her hands by her side and tease her by leaving delicate kisses on her inner thigh. It drove them both crazy.
With her skin tasting like the vanilla body wash she'd used this morning, her essence was divine and by the second, his lusty hunger increased and he couldn't contain his excitement. The seconds rolled into minutes and when they found themselves riding out a wave of sheer passion, Ben's fingers dug into her hips and her legs were around his waist, situated on top of him. Magnificent sparks flying rampant, Margo was easily infatuated by the only healthy drug there is. And with desire in their eyes, they finished their climaxes simultaneously, sweating, gasping for a breath and bewildered smiles. From here, things were looking positive.
When Margo moved off him and gathered her garments, Ben groaned. "Oh, come on. You're bound to be ready for round two!"
"Round two or a second baby?"
"Both!"
With the sound of wheels spreading out across the dirt pathway, Margo peered between the linen curtains and noticed the red delivery van inching towards their drive. Now, Ben stood with only his shorts on but it was enough to keep his modesty, so, she voulunteered for him to retrieve the mail.
"I need to get dressed." She poked her bottom lip out to which Ben kissed tenderly. "Be a doll and get the post, will ya?"
Nodding his head, a smug smirk resided on his lips when Margo marvelled at his chest and with her eyes scanning the hollows of his body, she ripped her vision away and pushed him out of the room, rolling her eyes at his husky chuckles that could be heard from the hallway.
When she slipped on the remainder of her clothes and walked barefoot down the grey carpets in the landing, she made her way down the stairs and saw Ben standing, in all his half naked glory, holding a single letter addressed to Margo. He met her halfway, and with an eyebrow raised, he shrugged after handing her the envelope.
"It doesn't say who it's from."
Margo hummed and made her way into the kitchen and as she sat down at the table, opening the mysterious letter, Ben couldn't help but feel uneasy. It wasn't often she received a letter, unless it was for a missed therapy session or bills. Nevertheless, after a second of studying her face with a frown, he opened their wide fridge and collected the ingredients to make his family breakfast.
Dear Margo
By now, I'm probably a distant memory in your mind and rightly so. I was foolish to believe you'd walk away from your perfect life for someone like me, but I was even more foolish to believe that history would repeat itself.
If is easier now that we no longer lurk in the shadows, afraid to be caught. Even though our actions weren't suspicious, our feelings and behaviour definitely rang alarm bells in my brother's mind ans I could visibly see the turmoil on his face every time you and I crossed paths. It was unfair for us to put him through that when he only deserved the truth and loyalty.
Yet, knowing a life without care is easier, no matter how hard I've tried to get over you, I still find myself thinking about you from time I time and wondering, what if I stayed? Would we have ended up in a bigger mess? Would you and Ben have split up? Would you and I have ended up together after all this time? Sometimes, the good memories hurt more than knowing I am unable to hold you the way I used to.
And while I have told myself not to fall for you again, I have paid a visit back to Texas, purely for selfish reasons. I'd be lying if I said I was here to apologise, but I won't. I ruined your wedding for a reason and maybe you understood why but you'd built a dream so perfect you believed to be reality, and so, you pushed me out of the picture.
And I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you. I got your calls and I watched them ring, ring and ring until they ended. Your letters stopped after awhile, along with your simple texts that demanded me to respond. I didn't have the courage to reply and I don't regret it. Call me a coward, but ignoring you was the best way to move forward. I guess I'm an even bigger idiot to think I'd get over you, because we all know that's impossible.
If you're not busy, I'd like to meet up by the park at noon, simply to turn this chapter to end the book. The closure needs to begin as a healing process. We both know we can't continue the rest of our lives with the toxic, forbidden love we share. As you know, it's excruciating and we deserve better. I mean, you have better, but I know i'm not going to find anybody like you, and that's for certain.
And if you don't meet up with me, I hope one day you'll realise I truly did care for you. Through thick and thin, from the moment we met til the last, I had your back like no other. It may not have seemed that way the day before we left in search for Lorea's money, but I stupidly thought that if I pretend not to care, you'd feel the same. Maybe if the tables were turned, we wouldn't have ended up like this.
Benny is a good man. He is impulsive, arrogant, narcissistic, cocky and hot headed, but he'd never hurt a damn hair on your head. You've changed him from a man whore to a doting father and maybe have tried to conquer the quest but of course, you've been the only one to succeed. You had the same affect on him that you had on me and now, it's time for him to enjoy it while it lasts.
Maybe one day, you'll be as happy as you pretend to be.
-William Miller
Margo, after rereading the letter in disbelief, had crumbled the paper in her hands and she excused herself from the table.
"What was it, baby?" Ben asked with curiosity.
She walked over to the open stove and with the fire which bad been lit, she tossed the letter on top of the flames and watched it quickly curl inwards to black soot. Without emotion on her face and a dull tone, she responded simply. "Bills."