Arthur sank into the armchair, holding his untouched beer sat lonely on the dusty table. Mike was opposite to him on the couch, joyfully drinking his beer. They’ve been unpacking the entire day until sunset, still, no signs of Brooke appeared. The moon was slowly but steadily ascending into the sky, casting the clouds around the brilliant, white orb with its luminosity.
“It’s getting late and cold,” Mike commented, looking out of the window.
“I know,” Arthur answered. “Don’t worry about it, Brooke knows how to look out after herself. She’d had years of experience. She is smart too; she will be back before midnight.”
“Who takes care of her when you are gone?” Mike asked, shifting slightly on the couch, an air of uncertainty in him.
“My brother,” Arthur said. Silence crept between them; no more words were spoken for a quarter of an hour.
“Do you blame the driver?” Mike asked.
Silence answered Mike’s question.
“At first I did,” Arthur sighed, finally deciding to tell. He felt he had to take the pain out of his chest. “But later on I realized that the driver was doing the exact same thing as my wife. He was trying to get home to his family under the heavy rain. Accidents happen and he regrets it. That night, he remained by the side of my wife. I am grateful for him to have done so; I know she did not die alone under the rain.”
Arthur had flashback of the painfully recurring memories. Although it had been nearly ten years ago he still remembers the tears stinging his eyes and face, mingling with the fresh rain. He still remembers holding her in his arms, close to his heart in an attempt to keep her with him. He still remembered her last words before parting this world.
“Take care of Brooke and love her. Be happy for the three of us.” She had said with a heavy voice. She was fighting back sobs that would perforate her chest and mustering all her energies to remain by his side as long as possible. Then she was gone.
Arthur cried and wept the loss of his wife, his life will never be the same after that night. God knows how many times he had solely devoted to his work in order to forget the pain and painful memories. He felt he had sacrificed Brooke to attain peace in his mind because every time he saw her, she was the image of her mother.
Silence prevails once again, leaving both men to their own thoughts.
Arthur glanced out of the window, watching the waves washing the shore gently. Their monotonous and constant rolling was appeasing and comforting. He remembered the words of his wife during their honeymoon:
“Don’t you love to listen to the sounds of waves at night?”
He always answered yes.