“Just a minute!”
I wait patiently at the doorstep, hands in my pockets, gazing outward towards the winding country lanes. They bob up and down the hilltops like buoys, disappearing over the grassy peaks before popping right back into existence at the bottom again. Visible for miles on end, they appear as nothing more than a series of interconnected brown streaks from afar, like tunnels in an ant farm.
The leaf-strewn mud outside the house is streaked with fresh tire tracks, still moist from last night’s thunderstorm. Dirt sticks to my boots as I shift nervously from foot to foot, whistling quietly and making a mental note to purchase a thicker jacket before the last remnants of Autumn fully fade, making way for the long, cold Winter. Even now, the air holds an icy thinness, one that will soon amplify and expand to encompass every little extremity. Snow will be blanketing soon. Thick, heavy snow, several feet deep in the worst years. Snow up to the doorknob.
The sound of soft footfall comes from the upstairs floor of the house. I turn, craning my head in the direction of the bedroom window. A familiar shadow dances across the blinds, making the rickety old window frame rattle with each step it takes. It reminds me of candlelight, the way her body shimmers and glows against the pale dark of the room, like a flame melting hot wax. I smile, wondering if she can see me standing there, with a little less hair and a little more stubble, but still me, undeniably, still me. Still the Robert she used to know.
The light drains, and I frown as the house goes suddenly quiet. I step up onto the porch to press the doorbell once more, just as she comes treading down the top of the stairs.
Even through the warped front door windowpanes, I can see just how beautiful she still is. In the time that’s elapsed since our last day together, I had expected her radiance to dwindle somewhat, but no, she has somehow matured into an even more heavenly being. Her movements across the downstairs corridor are so fluid, so ethereal, I almost think I’ve seen her ghost. Her pace slows as she sees me, perhaps standing a little closer than necessary. Catching myself, I take a step back, giving her the space to move forward and unlock the door.
A hanging basket of wilted flowers thumps against the door as it swings open, only slightly louder than the thumping coming from my chest.
“Hello, Margaret.” I say as she comes fully into view, putting on my most earnest, sincere smile.
“Do I know you?”
Her voice is like an angel’s, yet her words pierce my soul like daggers. I mask my sadness and clear my throat, scratching the back of my head.
“We, um… we knew each other back in high school. Well, more than just knew each other, really… I recall at some point we were–”
“’‘Ah,’’ I remember,” she cuts me off, leaning against the doorframe. “Funny how things change, huh?”
“Ha, I know, right?” I laugh awkwardly. “God, how long has it been, like, a decade? So many memories. Though, to be honest, quite a few I think I’ve forgot. I don’t even remember why we broke up.”
“Because I didn’t love you. I never loved you.”
I stammer, picking at my nails as I glance towards the ground. Margaret plucks a cigarette from behind her ear and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth.
“R-right, right… anyway, I… um… I was in the neighbourhood and was wondering–
“How’d you find my address?”
A jagged chill ripples down my spine.
“Well… um… you weren’t answering your calls, so I gave Emily a ring instead. You remember Emily, right? She said the last she’d ever heard from you was that you were moving here. 15 Brookfield Pines. My aunt lives in the area and while I was dropping by to see her, I thought I might as well come visit. It’s a shame you and Emily didn’t stay in touch, you always seemed like good friends.”
Margaret stares blankly, playing with her whitened curls.
“Hah… it’s funny, y’know, you always said you wanted to live out in the sticks somewhere, surrounded by nature. I always thought that would’ve been nice too, but I got stuck in some dead-end city office job. Guess we can’t all live out our dreams, right?”
“I suppose you wanna come in, don’t you?”
The slight annoyance in her tone nearly pushes me to breaking point. If only I could wrap my mouth around those scarlet lips one last time.
“Yes, Margaret,” I say. “Yes, that’d be wonderful.”
A whiff of perfume catches my nose as I stroll through the front doorway, Margaret following and shutting the door behind me.
The house is small and simple, cosy and rustic. It’s the exact kind of place I envisioned me and her settling down in all those years ago. The walls are a smooth blend of wooden and stone surfaces, illuminated by a string of soft, white fairy lights that stretch into the living room like a trail of fireflies. Rich, captivating daylight shines through the windows, bathing me in a warm energy that lasts right up until I take a closer look at the glass.
It’s paradise, and yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here. Me, reflected in the panes, with my thinning looks, thinning smile, wearing a messy hoodie, dirty shoes, and baggy jeans… it isn’t right. I’m far past my prime, and she’s only just beginning.
“Robert?”
I snap out of my daydream. I’m sitting on the living-room sofa across from Margaret, a mug in my hand, filled with…
“Sorry, what is this? Tea?”
“Peppermint tea,” Margaret replies, already rolling another cigarette. “Only kind I had left. I had a mug ready to drink before you knocked.”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind peppermint.” I say. It’s a lie, and she probably knows it, but it doesn’t stop me from lifting the beverage to my lips and taking a swig, even as the taste burns the back of my throat and makes my cheeks feel sour.
“So, tell me, Margaret…” I continue, setting down the glass on a kitten-themed coaster. “What do you get up to these days?”
“Not much. Little bit of photography here and there. The landscape is pretty beautiful in these parts.”
She lights the cig she’d rolled, staring at the wall as she puts it between her lips. I feel my jaw loosen as I begin to lose myself in Margaret’s jewel-green eyes, quickly realising I need to say something, or the conversation will stagnate.
“Y-yeah, I’d noticed. It’s nice to get away from the city every now and then. Remember how we said we would move somewhere abroad? I think it was Russia. You always did want to snap a shot of those funny little buildings in Moscow.”
She says nothing, though I think I can detect a hint of sadness spread across her face, dampening her usual cold, indifferent expression.
“I went abroad last year. I won a holiday trip to the Falklands in some yearly office raffle. It was a treasure hunting expedition, the type where you go around exploring forgotten tombs and such. It was a lot of fun, though, I didn’t find much of anything…except this ring.”
I fish it out from my trouser pocket and hold it out in my palm. It’s a dark shade of bronze, adorned with a cloudy grey gemstone and covered in intricate engravings that seem to glow a hushed milky-white. Margaret turns her head, her eyes flaring with a subtle curiosity as she examines the ring, leaning in close to get a good look.
“Originally, I was just going to sell it, but no one will buy it off me. It’s got some silly old superstition surrounding it about a curse or something like that. I know you never believed in all that stuff. To me, it’s only really worth its weight in how pretty it is, so… I’d like you to have it.”
She raises an eyebrow, taking the cigarette out of her mouth. The smoke wafts between her fingers elegantly, like a thread of white silk rising up to the ceiling.
“Is that why you came here, Rob? After we haven’t seen each other for ten years, you stop by to give me some stupid ring?”
“I mean—”
“I’m sorry Robert, but we’re over. We’ve been over for just about a decade now. Yes, I cheated, and yes, I broke your heart, and yes, it was a stupid and irresponsible thing to do and I’m sorry, but I don’t want to get back together. I’m not looking for a partner right now, and even if I were, it wouldn’t be you.”
I feel my face turn bright red as I struggle to force out a sentence.
“No, no, no, you d-don’t understand… I don’t want to get back together. Just consider it a reminder of all the good times we had together. That’s all.”
She stares daggers at me. I swallow and scratch my neck.
“Please, just…take the ring. If not for you, then for me. It would really mean a lot.”
Margaret sighs, leaning back into the sofa and rubbing her forehead with her spare hand. She looks at the ring, still sitting in my now outstretched palm, then at my pleading face.
She grabs it and slips it onto her finger, sliding it all the way down to her knuckle.
“If anything, it was nice to see you again, Robert.”
She gasps and presses a hand to her ears. I know exactly why. She knows she’d said that last word, but she hadn’t heard herself saying it.
“Robphert?” she slurs, her mouth filling up with saliva. “Ropbhern, whasp haphenning?”
She stares down at her hand. Instead of grey, the ring’s gemstone now glows a fiery red, the patterns twisting and spreading outward across the skin of her finger, warping it to a saggy heap of flesh. Snot fills her nose in an instant, dribbling onto the floor as it leaks from her pores.
“I know you can’t hear me,” I begin, standing up. “But I’m sorry you never loved me.”
Margaret shrieks, but no noise comes out. Her entire mouth is swelling up like a water balloon, filling with more and more saliva until it’s drooling down her chin like the juices of a ripe mango. Hot, slimy earwax drips onto her naked shoulder, burning and corroding the skin beneath it.
“I’m sorry I was never good enough for you, or your friends, no matter how hard I tried to keep you happy.”
Margaret’s entire arm wilts, the skin melting onto the ground as it falls from the bone. The pattern engrains its way up her shoulder as she tries desperately to wrench the ring off her finger, to no avail. Even as the skin around it recedes, it constricts itself tighter and tighter, refusing to come loose.
“I’m sorry about that worthless ring, and the one I offered you in that little velvet box on the day we broke up.”
Margaret staggers to her feet, her vision blurring. Thick clumps of dyed hair fall from her scalp, littering the floor. She sways back and forth as she stands, reaching out for something, anything to keep her balance. In her daze, her leg hits the coffee table, and she collapses onto the ground, slamming her head against the hard, wood floor.
“But I suppose, in some sense…”
Her pale, shrunken legs seize as her splintered skull begins to collapse in on itself. I sigh and crouch beside her decaying body, caressing a strand of mottled hair away from her face oh so delicately.
“That ring is priceless to me.”
The shaking stops, and all is still. I turn the body over and observe the ring, the fierce red of the central gemstone now having dulled back to its original shade of grey. I reach out to pluck it from the finger, hesitating as I’m inches away from the flesh.
“No,” I think to myself. “She looks much better with it than without.”
And with that, I let myself out. The caw of a faraway crow echoes across the land as I step outside, sucking in another breath of that sweet, unpolluted country air. The revving of my car’s engine is a pleasant sound as I hop back into the driver’s seat, catching one final view of the corpse through the living-room window. It’s reflected by the dusty wing mirror as I disappear over the hilltop, the streaky brown path behind me becoming nothing more than a blur.