Araminta

Elizabeth Goh

It’s hard not to be near those you love. I vaguely recall somebody once said that distance creates fondness, and I can confirm at least that much is true. I ache for her, more than I could for anything else. My lead-lined eyelids keep closing, but I force them open with Herculean strength, glaring up at the dusky grey ceiling of our bedroom. If I accidentally miss her arrival by being asleep, I could never forgive myself. My vision is fuzzy, and the corner of the roof keeps morphing into two as I grip the plush arm of my chair to keep myself awake.

She’ll be here soon. She will. My Araminta. Then, I can rest.

Almost as if destined, I hear a faint something. A quiet breath, a footstep creating a tiny creak in the dark wood floors. My eyes snap open, and a huff of breath whistles from my lungs as I swiftly stand up from the worn green armchair and look at the shadowy doorway, wide awake.

“Araminta?” I begin to fill with warmth.

She’s back.

She must be in the kitchen. It’s later than she usually comes back, but I don’t care. I step out of the room on socked feet, entering the hallway and smiling widely at the sight of my heart.

I can barely see her in the dark hallway – I killed the lights long ago, and besides, it’s almost two in the morning. All I can see is a head of brown curls that fall in ringlets down her back, and the long white nightgown that she favours. The way that her dress flutters despite the still air of the hallway makes her look almost like an apparition – an angel, even – as she adjusts white lilies sitting in an opulent vase on the hallway end table.

“Mint,” I breathe, and I can feel my face lighting up into a smile. I don’t remember her being so beautiful – how did I not notice? She’s the light of my life – I can’t believe that the last time I saw her, I didn’t tell her so. I make sure to tell her now as I close the distance between us.

“You look as radiant as the sun, my love.”

I only see a flash of a smile before she turns the other way, beginning to walk down the hall, past two doorways and into the kitchen. Her footsteps are feather-light compared to mine, dainty and silent compared to my heavy pace thudding across the planks as I follow her.

I glance into the open bedroom door as I pass it. I can see our child, Sephtis, sleeping. Too-big clothes envelop him as he lies awkwardly on his bed, gentle snores emanating from him every few seconds.

It’s no matter. Araminta is back – I’ll think about him… later. I couldn’t care about anything nor anyone else right now.

When I walk into the kitchen, I can see her already outside the window in our backyard. She fits in perfectly with the gently swaying plants outside – elegant and dainty, just like the flora surrounding her. She turns, and smiles at me. I feel my feet carrying me to the sliding glass door in hopes I might be able to take her hand.

My breath fogs on the glass into little clouds which blur my wife into a sea of colour. As I slide the door open, I shiver – gooseflesh appears all the way down my exposed arms, covering my bare chest in tiny dots even as Araminta disappears into the bushes. Stepping out into the garden, my socks dampening on dewy grass, I follow the path where I’m certain she went. The trees caress me gently as I go, leaves brushing my face with a lover’s touch.

I’ve never cherished Araminta more than right now, when I’m half-afraid that I’ll lose her forever.

I follow my instincts into the little clearing – beautiful even at night. Crickets chirp sleepily, and flowers line the grove. I’ve planted every one of them, painstakingly watering seeds day after day until they blushed and bloomed into a veritable rainbow of colour. The trees lining the area are well-kept, not a twig out of place, and a stream bubbles sleepily in the distance.

And in the center… in the center sits Araminta. Her hair sways balefully in the breeze, and she smiles at me.

“Come,” she breathes, voice as faint as the rustling of the leaves above. I obey, and sit beside her.

“Araminta,” I whisper. I drink in the sight of her sage eyes like I’ll never see them again.

Distance creates fondness.

I close the gap between us, my hand reaching up to caress her flushed cheeks.

Instead of warm flesh, I find granite. A cold, unyielding head of stone sits beside me, words lovingly carved into its face.

I inhale shakily, cold air filling my lungs, and exhale. My ribs shudder like an old engine, gone too long without its most important parts. Close to giving out.

ARAMINTA KALMIA, the engravings read. The grey surface is only just beginning to wear – moss creeps up from its foot in a soft carpet of green.

She is loved.

She will be missed.

A choked sob forces its way up and out of my throat, an unnatural sound that knots in the natural weave of the nature enveloping me.

It’s hard, living without her. Days like today, she’s the only thing I can think of – nothing more, nothing less. The worst part is that I know I’m a terrible person. Sephtis, our son, doesn’t deserve the husk of a father that I have become after his blameless mother left me for death’s embrace.

Recovering from the loss of somebody that you love is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I know that some days are better than others – some days, I can smile at Sephtis and think of happy memories of Mint – but some days, like today, it’s all I can do to grip the arm of her favourite green armchair and try to hold on.

Now, I tangle my fingers into the soft grass as tears stain my eyes and nose pink and puffy.

I’m sick of being a terrible father. Weary of chasing after my dead wife, and leaving my son ignored in the dust.

I’m ready to be better. I know that it’s going to be a long, tough road raising Sephtis with Araminta beyond my reach, but I’m willing to try and let her go. And if, even for a second, Sephtis is anything like her?

I will know I have succeeded.

But, for now, I shut my eyes and reach my hand out blindly. The pads of my fingers touch cool stone. Nothing will tear me from her side – at least until the morning comes.

I drift off to sleep.