Preserving perfection

Her eyes were grey. Not a steely grey, but the soft grey of a sky that is about to rain. When the charcoal clouds merge with the white mist to form a sky that folds in on itself. The air becomes dense and heavy to breathe, and the whole thing becomes impossible to see through.

“If that feeling overwhelms you again, do you have a plan?” she asked. Simple. Calm.

“Yes.”

My reply was equally simple.

“Would you share it with me?” she asked. Her skin was pale with a gentle flush across her high cheekbones. Her hands were delicate, curved enticingly around her bleached wood pencil and her soft leather notebook. Small creases marked the edges of her eyes and lips.

Her lips.

They were full, top lip perfectly shaped but paler than the bottom lip, which looked like a ripe apple ready to fall from a tree at one of my family’s orchards.

Or an apple ready to be torn from the tree.

That lip, ready to be torn from her perfect impenetrable face.

When an apple was torn from a tree, I had caused it to achieve its purpose. When they fell, they rotted into filth and became nauseating mulch under foot. A waste. A decaying waste.

A thing of beauty that had been left too long. Until it was no longer beautiful. Until it was nothing but a seeping mess.

I shook my head slightly and realised she’d asked me another question. My head was bowed and I took a deep smooth steadying breath. Then, I raised an eyebrow, lifted my gaze to meet her eyes and smiled my smooth, practised smile.

“Forgive me. I have a lot on my mind”

She returned my smile.

“Well that’s why I’m here”

For now… I added mentally. I was silent for a long time, my mind flashing through my memories out of order like a DVD with a scratch. My face was still a smooth facade but I realised my fists were clenched and my short fingernails had cut my skin, had dug deep crescents into the palms of my hands. I realised was smiling.

“A happy memory?” She asked evenly, her voice shattering my thoughts.

A mistake. I would not make another one.

I quickly laughed and rearranged myself. Raking a hand through my hair, I leaned back in a practiced casual and inviting stance with one leg crossed and my arms open and relaxed. I gave her a look that I knew made me appear roguish and charming.

She didn’t respond to my act in the way I expected. She was not like other women.

“What is it that you write about me in that little black book?” I asked smoothly, adjusting my body to display my broad shoulders.

Her full lips curved, a hint of a smile. I took that as encouragement.

“Do you write about all your men in that little black book?”

A beat. She looked evenly at me and gave a response that was everything I would expect from this professional, highly educated woman.

“You know that I make notes for all my patients, regardless of gender”

I felt a surge of unearned confidence and before I could stop myself the words were tumbling out of my mouth.

“Am I your favourite?”

Brazen. Desperate.

What am I doing?!

I suddenly noticed the skin across her jawline was taut.

Was… could she.. ??

Could she possibly know what I’d done? What I had planned next?

No. I was charming and polite. I wore my charisma well.

She deftly redirected me, with such skill that I barely noticed she was doing it.

“Tell me about Vanessa. How are things now?”

Another gentle, inviting smile from her. Trying again to draw me out. Calm. Comforting.

As I opened my mouth to speak, my throat froze. I had spoken about my wife many times in these sessions, ensconced in these dimmed lighting and comfortable overstuffed couches.

What could I say? To the world we were rich, carefree and accomplished. We were happy. We were the perfect couple and deeply in love.

I had not allowed anyone to guess that Vanessa had threatened to leave. I had made an exception for this striking, intelligent and self assured woman who now sat opposite me again.

I could confide in this woman. She was intelligent enough to understand me, the way nobody else could.

I had even told her about the money – how I’d given Vanessa $20,000 and promised another $20,000 each week that she stayed with me. I had thought it was generous, an indication of how much I valued my beloved wife. My wife had laughed in my face and declared that she “would not be bought and owned”. As if she thought she was capable of doing any better. She had hit the jackpot when I chose to marry her. That stupid, spectacularly beautiful, vapid bitch.

My eyes darted to the French doors and the artfully lit garden beyond, thinking carefully about my answer.

“Vanessa is much better thank you. She is back to normal. I don’t think we’ll have any further troubles”

In fact, the last thing Vanessa did was five days ago, when I led her by the hand into an industrial freezer warehouse. One of the many, many identical freezer warehouses owned by my father’s company.

My precious wife.

She didn’t have to worry about anything or say anything or do anything anymore. Just sit and be looked at. Like a perfectly ripe apple, preserved forever so her beauty would never rot. She would never turn to mulch beneath our feet.

My eyes were low and I had almost forgotten where I was, when she spoke again

“I’m glad to hear that.”

I raised my eyes to meet hers. Those grey, soft eyes.

I contemplated telling her everything. She understood me. Perhaps I could explain. Like a stunning exhibit in a museum, my beloved wife would be forever young. Surely, somebody would understand that I did it for her?

I took another deep breath and smiled my most charming smile. Opposite me, her lips curved slightly. I would take that as a smile.

She really did have a strikingly beautiful face.

Those lips.

Their colour was as perfect as a blushing pink lady apple struck by the sunlight, graduating from pink to coral.

“Our time is up I’m afraid. So I will see you next week?”

She stood and tucked a soft tendril of hair behind her ear.

I also stood. As I did, I automatically smoothed the non existent wrinkles from my suit. When I extended my hand to meet hers, our eyes met again. Those soft, deep grey eyes.

“You will” I promised. “You will see me very soon”.