No Kiss Goodbye by Janelle Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

hard as I could. I watched it shatter into little pieces on the ground with a haunting feeling of regret.
    My hands fly to cover my mouth. Mark . Oh God. I had thrown the frame right at him. Why? I was vicious - I remember, but I can’t fucking remember why. I open my eyes as the images began to scramble again. Mark is sitting on the bed beside me; his arms are wrapped tightly around my shoulders.
    ‘We will get through this,’ he whispers as we rock back and forth, together.
    ‘I know, I know,’ I say, soaking up his comfort. But I have no idea what the hell it is we’re supposed to be getting through, and for the first time, I realise paralysis is not my biggest problem. Fuck.
    ‘God, Mark…I’m sorry.’ And now I’m the one avoiding eye contact. This is ridiculous. ‘Did I hurt you?’
    ‘You weren’t in control. It’s okay.’
    ‘Of course, it’s not okay.’
    ‘You’re right; it’s not okay. It’s terrible. We really need to work on your aim. You completely missed.’ Mark’s laugh is dry and forced, and I know it’s a crappy attempt to cover up his tears.
    Maybe I should pretend to laugh, too. But how funny is it that I tried to decapitate my husband with some finely polished Waterford Crystal?
    ‘I hear the doorbell,’ I say abruptly, and I can see Mark is as grateful for the interruption as I am.
    Mark kisses my forehead softly as he stands up. ‘I better get it. Do you need me to help you get dressed, or will you be okay on your own?’
    ‘Of course, I’ll be okay on my own, silly,’ I reply, desperate to be alone.
    Mark looks back at least three times before he leaves the room. I actually have to flick my fingers in the direction of the door to get him to move forward. 
    I roll my eyes and shake my head, but I’m smiling as I conjure images of how long it would actually take Mark to put on my clothes and how much more fun it would be if I just took his off instead. But these happy thoughts are constantly interrupted by nasty flashes that appear sporadically from the back of my mind. I can’t control how they surface, and I can’t suppress them either.
     
    Nothing plays in sequence. It’s bright; like hurt your eyes, fluorescent-in-your-face bright. A slim, grey-haired woman is standing beside me. She hands me a plastic cup of water, the kind that comes from the water cooler in a waiting room. I take it, but I don’t drink from it. I’m busy watching an elderly man in the distance. There’s something oddly familiar about him – a friend or a past colleague perhaps. He’s facing away from me, but I recognise his physique. I scratch at my thoughts trying desperately to conjure a face, but my mind is blank. He’s speaking to a young blond-haired woman who seems to be crying. I recognise her also, but her trembling posture distracts me from seeing her face. I barely notice the handsome man standing poignantly beside her. He’s upset too, but he’s hiding it better.
    The grey-haired woman continues to speak to me, but I can’t pull my stare away from the familiar people at the end of the hall. I’m not listening to a word she’s saying to me. Mark is beside me. He’s concentrating hard; I can see it in his face. He always presses his lips tightly together when he’s listening intently to something. It’s a habit I find adorable.
    I notice his lips begin to quiver; he’s shaking his head. He’s shaking his head – hard. His breathing quickens and tears began to fall down his flushed cheeks. Fuck it; why wasn’t I listening? The harder I try to hear what’s being said now, the more mumbled the words become. The hum of background noise is drowning out the words – the distinctive sounds of teacups chattering in a canteen and babies crying in the distance ring loudly in my ears.
    I suddenly feel a stabbing pain deep inside my chest. My ribs chattered so roughly with each racing breath that I worry they might snap. And suddenly the teacups rattle no more and all the babies