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“How did we become like this?” She asked silently, swallowing down the lump forming on the base of her throat. Her dark eyes were trained on the open window, embracing the chilly air as it brought shivers to her spine. “When did we become like this?”
He sat opposite of her, looking guiltily at the small scars and callouses covering his palms. He never looked into her eyes, “I don’t know.”
Neither spoke for much time, just thinking quietly about everything and nothing at all. The silence hovering the air was stronger than any words that could be said.
Then, she asked what both had been dreading, “Why did you do it?”
He shut his eyes tightly, breathing slowly the winter air, before raising his eyes to travel a path up the curves of her face. He didn’t look into her eyes. “I was desperate, and I made a stupid mistake. I needed a break, then she walked into my life, and she was just so,” he trailed off.
“Helpless.”
She nodded, ignoring the prickling ache in her eyes, ignoring her slightly shaking hands, ignoring the way his eyes never met her own. “I wasn’t enough for you.”
“No!” He leaned forward to capture her hands in his own. She flinched back. He retreated himself as far away from her, as if the fire burning within her was strong enough to burn him, “that’s not true. You were perfect. I made a foolish mistake, and I’m paying for my sins. You were more than enough. I was just never satisfied.”
She simply closed her eyes, a lone tear escaping her eyes. She looked at him, silently staring at the bruises under his eyes, his chapped lips, his pale face. She stared at him, unwavering, daring him to look into her eyes.
He didn’t look into her eyes.
She stood up from the embroidered couch, smoothing down her velvety dress, and walked towards the door. She faltered, “I was helpless, too. When I first looked into your eyes, when you wrote those beautiful letters. You build me palaces out of poetry, you gave me wonderful memories. I was helpless too, I am helpless.”
She turned completely towards Alexander, who had silent tears trailing down his hollow cheeks. She pondered for a few seconds over how old he looked at that moment, as if all life was lost to him.
For a moment, for just a single moment, she wondered if it was her fault. His words didn’t reassure her in the slightest, she no longer believed him. For just a moment, she wondered if she didn’t try hard enough to be the best wife he could have had. For a moment, she wondered if she could have done more to prevent this from happening. For a moment, she wondered if she could have done more to satisfy her husband.
But the moment died as soon as it began, because there are many things that Elizabeth Schuyler isn’t, but she was always enough.
“As long as you come home at the end of the day, that would be enough.”
Eliza walked out the room, and erased herself from the narrative.