All This Anger Was Once Love

TW: mentions of child loss

The story starts with rain.

A crack of thunder, telling all the world of the misfortunes held by a singular human.

Of course, no one knew who the person was, just that something had happened.

;

Another story starts with sunshine.

An echo of happy days gone by.

A woman. A man. A life.

A life lived without sorrow.

;

The tire marks are gone from the street.

Water, rain water, has filled them in, as if they were never there.

She watches where they were, now only a ghostly reminder.

She will continue to stare at them for 30 minutes.

;

A car pulls up. Pastel-painted cans bungee off the back, skipping along the road.

Music plays inside, soft country.

The car doesn’t move much more. It sits in the driveway, the music playing a steady melody.

Finally, he looks down at her, a smile stretching his lips.

She looks at him, her eyes blue orbs dancing in the sunlight.

They mouth something at the same time, then laugh.

I love you.

;

Her knees are soaked.

Rain pats her shoulders.

Her hair is down, untidy and soaking.

He’s gone, she thinks slowly.

Then another thought. A laughing thought that passed long ago.

I love you.

;

Inside, they got to work.

Walls were painted a welcoming yellow, and blue accents reminded them of blueberry pie.

Silver sconces and decor brought it all together, and together they stood in the doorway.

Their eyes watched the home.

“Our home,” She whispered.

He squeezed her shoulder, nodding.

“Yes, it is.”

;

At this point, she didn’t know what was tears and what was rain.

Her eyes felt swollen. She rubbed them, mascara coming away from her face.

Sighing raggedly, she scooped herself up.

Rain continued to fall on her.

Her clothes continued to soak.

But she just turned.

;

The first night they slept in their new house, she couldn’t sleep.

All she could think about was him. How he was here, next to her.

In their house.

In their room.

Together.

Quietly, she rolls over, tapping his shoulder.

He stirs, looking at her in the darkness.

“I love you,” she whispers.

He smiles, pulling her close.

She buries in his arms, and slowly drifts to sleep.

;

The trek back to the house is slippery.

A slap of water crosses her chest where she had fallen.

She slowly goes up the steps, trying her best not to fall.

The porch is creaky, and peeling, yellow paint lay in pieces on the warped floor.

Without thinking, she sits on the rocking chair. His rocking chair.

She pulls her legs to her chest and watches as rain overtakes her previous, pitiful spot.

;

Mornings were spent together, getting ready for mundane jobs.

They never really knew if they liked the jobs, but they did them.

Afternoons were spent together, cooking in the kitchen. Dancing in the TV room.

Laying in the bed.

Watching the stars.

Dreaming.

Dreaming of a family.

Two kids, a boy and a girl. A dog (golden retriever) and a fish (guppy).

Family trips to Disneyworld once a year, weekend adventures every Saturday.

College funds already being sectioned out.

He would be an engineer, she would be a nurse.

Calculations of how much things would cost, arguments about jobs that always were cooled.

A life built on plans.

But no plans for if the plans came tumbling down.

;

Not long later, she got up from the chair.

Might as well get on with her life.

She walked to the door, sidestepping a protruding plank.

She walked inside, taking in the cold emptiness of being lonely.

Tears started forming, but were soon wiped away..

The fire was lit.

Tea was set on the stove.

And she sat on the couch, listening to the rain.

;

Finally, it happened.

There, on the screen, was a baby.

One for her and him.

For them.

Tears were shed that night, not of sadness, but of joy.

Planning began.

A room was converted to a nursery, pictures of animals prowling decorating any corner.

Clothing was bought.

A shower was held.

Mothers and mother-in-laws obsessed over everything, as they do.

And all was well.

All was…fine.

Until-

;

The tea finished spreading into the hot water, and awaited a sip.

She sat and watched the rain outside her window.

She didn’t dare look the other way.

That’s where he would have been.

And it still was too much.

;

Monthly check up.

Less than 5 weeks till.

But nothing.

No beat.

No breath.

Barely a body.

And tears were shed. Not of joy, of sadness.

Of loss.

Tears of death.

Tears that could only be described as profound pain.

And that’s when it all came down.

;

After she finished sitting, she moved to standing.

She moved, in general, to the bedroom.

To the half-empty closet.

To the sink missing all of the combs and shaving cream.

Then to the kitchen.

To the missing mugs.

The missing plates.

Then the pictures.

Vacation pictures, wedding pictures.

Not missing, of course.

But barely seeming full.

One person was still here but the other was probably almost done with his drive to his mom’s.

They were empty.

The house was empty.

The closet was empty.

The driveway was empty.

Now, the only company was the whistling teapot and the pouring rain.

;

People take heartbreak in different ways.

Some will mourn, cry, scream, yell. Show they are hurting.

Others will suffer in silence.

He was a louder mourner, choosing to cry himself to sleep.

She was quieter.

While he begged for a sign of emotion, she begged for silence.

“She’s not here anymore, so stop crying!”

“But we almost had her!”

“And now we don’t. So stop.”

And all the fighting led to no longer saying good morning.

To sleeping in separate rooms.

To making coffee at different times.

To just no longer speaking.

To silence.

And it was deafening.

;

She walked through the halls, the rain finally stopping.

A window ahead showed the last bit of clouds exiting the sky.

It was very pretty outside.

;

That must have been why he left.

One argument too many.

Another, heated conversation about why she wasn’t showing emotion and he was.

The truth was, she cried at night.

She cried because he wasn’t sleeping with her.

She cried for her unborn baby.

She even cried for the honeymoon phase that was now so far away.

But, most improtantly, she cried because she missed him.

Missed his laugh.

His kisses.

His hugs.

The way he seemed to love her no matter what.

And so, when he stood in the doorway with one bag and his car keys, she cried.

She cried in front of him.

He seemed surprised.

But he still left.

He said he needed a break.

That he needed time.

But she knew what he meant.

It meant he was leaving.

For good.

And so she sat in a puddle as the rain fell and his car drove.

And she screamed as she felt the walls closing in.

;

She walked outside, puddles drying quickly under the sun.

It was warm.

Her clothing dried.

And as she stood, she realized something.

Quickly, she ran to the shed.

She opened it.

She reached in and grabbed a bucket.

A bucket of green paint.

She went inside and looked at the plainest wall she could find.

And she painted the wall green.