He considered all songs. Emily rolled her eyes and spit on the floor. He never could make up his mind and he was growing tired of waiting. She'd done herself up this time, and she'd mopped the floor, hoping for a truly wild night, yet here Rick was, caught between Pink Floyd and Led Zep.
Emily would've liked some Bryan Adams, even some KISS would've done the job, but nobody ever asked her what she wanted. So, she had to hint, she had to suggest without even suggesting what would make her happy. But it seemed to be slipping from her grasp – maybe her happiness wasn't so important after all.
'Rick,' she pleaded.
'Yes, darling, I'm coming,' he called back, absent-minded. His voice was loud, as if she was two thousand miles away, rather than two steps. Well, Emily thought, she might as well be. Emily began picking up her discarded clothes from the couch and putting them back on. She did this slowly, at first, waiting for him to notice, to revolt, to stop her. And then faster, she zipped up her pencil skirt and drew on her blouse.
Yet, Rick never turned from his record collection. He wasn't being mean and he definitely wasn't trying to be rude. On the contrary, he would've liked to set the perfect mood, to make a beautiful memory for Emily, his heart, his love. But while he was deciding on the walls and sounds of the memory to be, Emily's recollection of the moment was already fading into bitterness.
When she was fully dressed and he was still muttering album titles to himself, she decided she'd leave. With tears in her eyes, she slipped on her heels and walked toward the door. Surely, he'd stop her now, he'd realize, finally, how much misery he'd caused her.
Yet, what was he going to realize? That his very way of being had bothered her so? He would've felt so bad, if he'd known. He loved her so much, he never wanted to hurt her or cause her upset.
And so, she walked out the door and allowed herself to cry, when she heard the door shut behind her. She bawled as she went, struggling to stand, it hurt so much.
And Rick, finally putting on some old school Stones and smiling, turned to the love of his life only to find a room full of emptiness.
'Love?' he called, yet no voice called him back.
He turned the corner and it felt as if his heart fell to the floor. Emily was nowhere to be found and he just wanted to scream, he cried out for his lost love and wished her back. He wished he could be different, so that she wouldn't leave. Or wouldn't have left, for the fact was, it was already over.
She was already out of his life, but not out of his mind. So, so not out of his mind.
Over the next few hours, she lightened his every thought, his every movement was doubled over by the pain of her disappearance.
He could barely think straight, he had no will to eat or live. And on another side of town, Emily stayed in her motel room, staring out the window and wondering where and why her happiness had gone. And wishing, not for the first time, that Rick could've been different. A bit more decisive, perhaps. Stronger and more sure of himself. Maybe not so obsessed with music and rather more obsessed with her.
And it was almost as if she'd gotten what she wanted, for his records gave him no pleasure, now. He allowed the sadness of the voices of the past wash over him and mourn his sad state, without hearing one single word.
'Please don't leave me again,' he whispered when Emily came back.
'You never loved me,' she cried unable to contain her tears.
And Rick shook his head. 'You're the only thing I love.'
She seemed so angry, so upset with him now. 'Then why didn't you love me while I was here? Why did I have to leave for you to realize you care?'
And he shook his head again, rambling and lost in his desperate thoughts. How could she say this?How could she ever think he did not love her, when she was everything? When all he wanted was to make her happy.
And now he has to watch her beautiful face distorted by so much sadness, so much loss and hurt that it hurts him, too.
'I'm sorry, I promise I'll throw all my records away. I'll never listen to music again, I'll do anything to make you happy.'
And Emily weeps, hearing the words she waited all her life to hear come so very late.
And she whispers 'It's too late', but only in her mind. She can't bring herself to tell Rick this, so she falls into his arms and loves him, filled by such passion, such desperation.
Such abandon.
'I love you,' she whispers, lying beside his body on the floor. 'I always loved you.'
And he smiles, because he's happy again and she's come back and everything's fine. Everything's just fine.
The cage in the middle of his heart has finally broken open, he's finally free. The incessant need to be so meticulous, so precise, the need to choose...they're all gone now. And things don't need to be just right or just perfect anymore. He's free, he's finally free. He's seen the world without her and it was so lacking in color, so desolate that it scared him straight.
Now any record will do, the song doesn't have to be just right. It doesn't even matter. There is no just right, and there is a world of possibility at their feet. He wakes, filled with joy and happiness, dying to tell Emily that they're finally free and they can be happy. But the house is empty. For a second, the memory of before flashes through his mind.
Please, God, don't let her leave again. Don't let her be gone. He's never prayed before, because he always thought it was rather pointless, that prayers only fall on deaf ears, but as he does now, he's filled with such ardor.
She's not gone. She can't be gone, she's just nipped out to buy some milk for their morning coffee. Everything is fine.
There's a knock on the door and Rick smiles. She must've forgotten her keys again. Silly Emily, always forgetting things, never organized like him. Or like what used to be him.
He beams as he opens the door, but it's not her. Rick's brother, Anthony, stands in the door, staring into space. When he looks up, to meet his brother's eye, Rick sees that he's crying.
'What's wrong?' he asks and Anthony gives him such a strange look. 'What's the matter, Anthony?'
'I'm so sorry, Rick, I'm so so sorry.'
Anthony hugs his brother tight to his chest. 'Why didn't you call me?' he asks.
And Rick can't understand his brother. Why would he have called?
'It was on the news, this morning,' Anthony whispers, not letting go of his brother. And without thinking, Rick pushes his brother away and runs back in. He turns on the TV, but that doesn't make sense either.
It keeps showing pictures of a crash and telling lies. No, he wants to shout, Emily Masters, 34, is very much alive!
'She's just gone out to get some milk,' he whispers, 'she's just out to get milk.'
There was no car out of nowhere, no distraught woman crumbling in the middle of the road – why are they saying this?
'They're lying,' Rick tells his brother, 'she was here last night. She came back. I made her happy. She came back to me.'
And yet, the TV says she never did.
Weekend freewrite based on the prompts offered by the ever-wonderful @mariannewest, check her out if you'd like to join the freewriting train!
Thank you for reading,
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