Revenant

        'Tony? ' she says, her voice quiet. He stands still, not moving into her touch, but resisting the urge to pull away. Her voice sounds so familiar, so warm. He lets his eyes fall shut, her voice echoing around his head. Her hand falls away and she says his name again. He is filled with a sudden surge of emotion – he loves this woman! He loves her, wants her to be his wife! He sighs and turns, ready to embrace her, ready to forget these last crazy hours, to take her to their bed and make love to her, to bury his face in her sweet smelling hair, to tell her that he is sorry, the accident fucked with his head but he's back now-

        Anna is staring at him. Her face is contorted into a vague caricature of sadness, her eyebrows twisted, mouth lowered like a child's drawing. Her eyes are dark and empty. Tony thinks of that night, at the pub, her eyes, rich and sensuous in the golden light. He thinks of the Cutty Sark, of Anna's face, lit with enthusiasm as she asked him if he saw what she did.

        Can't you see the pirates? Can't you just see them Tony?

        Tony pushes past the body of his wife and heads to the closet.

        'Tony? What are you doing?'

        He grabs a blanket, a pillow from the bed.

        'Tony, come to bed. Please.' Her voice sounds wrecked. He forces himself not to turn around. When he answers, his voice catches in his throat. He coughs and tries again, pausing by the door. 

        'I'm going to sleep on the sofa tonight. Please don't follow me.' He waits for a reply, but she doesn't speak, so he heads for the living room, arms clenched tight around his blankets. He glances back, just for a second, and sees her silhouette, dark and unmoving in the bedroom doorway. He closes the door firmly behind him, and thinks about her cold hands brushing against his skin in the taxi. He moves the dresser across the door and leaves the lights on as he sleeps.        

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         Tony dreams. He dreams that he is at the park, the one with all the trees. He is sitting with Anna under a bright young beech and they are having a picnic. They are eating average tasting burgers and Anna is wearing her green silk dress. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and in the golden afternoon light, she glows. Tony takes his mother's ring from his pocket. It weighs nothing at all, it is a band of golden light, the same kind that is brushing over Anna's hair, pooling in the curve of her breasts, dripping off her hands as they move. He holds it out to her and she gasps. Her hand brushes against his and it is icy cold. The cold spreads into his fingertips, into his veins, into the bones of his hand, the flesh of his arm, eating into him like acid. He jerks back and Anna blinks. Her face is loosening, almost melting, like wet clay. The skin is sagging away from her bones, her eye lids are drooping, leaving a glistening red gape under each eye, her mouth is a slack, cavernous darkness. Tony tries to scream, but in his dream the icy cold of Anna's touch has spread into the meat of his torso and is now clutching at his throat, the weight of the cold paralysing him, he is gasping uselessly for breath, Anna is sticking two fingers in her mouth, dragging the corners up into a hideous smile, her eyes vacant in their collapsing sockets, and she is saying, 'Yes, Tony, I will marry you, I will, I will, I will-'                                              

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