by Lee Moan
***
He opened the annex door a crack.
He listened for a few moments, but there was nothing. He stepped into the lounge, creeping along in exaggerated pantomime steps. His pulse thrummed in his head.
He paused at the foot of the stairs and looked up at the bedroom door.
It was open.
That was when he heard the sobbing from behind him. He turned and found his wife standing in the hallway with her back to him, the front door gaping open before her. She was hunched over, peering out into the impenetrable sea of black.
“Portia?” he said in a cautious whisper.
She stiffened, looking over her shoulder. “Leave me alone, David.”
“What are you doing, Portia?”
“What does it look like? I’m going to end all your troubles. One small step for me, one giant leap of freedom for David Scarsdale. Isn’t that what you want?”
He crept closer, feeling the thud of his heart in his ears.
She pulled at her skirt, her deeply creased blouse. “No wonder you wanted to leave! Look at me! Big fat frump! I wouldn’t want to stay with me, either! And you think I’m holding you here against your will! You think I’m doing all this to make you love me!” She looked back out into the empty void. “Well, I’ll show you now, David, just how much I love you. I’m going to jump and then all this will be over. You’ll be free!”
She took a step forward.
“No!” David said. He wanted to grab for her, but he was afraid they might both end up tumbling into oblivion.
“Why?” she said. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do this?”
He stared at her, his mouth working overtime as he tried to find the right answer. But in the end he dropped his gaze, lost for words.
“See,” she said. “You’re better off without me. The universe is better off without me.”
She stiffened, wiped away the tears from her cheeks. Her right foot came up off the ground. The abyss beckoned.
“Portia,” he said, his voice stolen away by a sudden and unexpected rush of emotion. “Don’t leave me like this.”
She turned and looked at him, a bitter smile on her lips. “It’s always about you, David,” she said, and then fell back.
He reached for her, trying to grab her shirt, her wrist, anything, but the fabric of her sleeve slipped through his fingers. As she tumbled out into the darkness, David dropped to his hands and knees, clutching the door frame and watching his wife drop silently down down down into the hungry black.
Soon he was unable to make out her features, just her tiny figure dropping away, and before long she was just a pinprick of colour in the void.
He fell back into the hallway, slamming his back against the wall. He took long, slow, ragged breaths, his entire body trembling and fighting back a wave of emotion.
It’s all right, he told himself. It’s all right, because all of this is going to end. In just a few moments this madness would all vanish and they would be back where they were: Monday morning, him at the door of the breakfast room, her at the table chewing her Special Bran.
He closed his eyes and waited, waited for the reset to happen.
***
He is still waiting.
She is still falling.
