Sand in the wind (V)


             The next morning, he opened his eyes to check whether the rain had dissipated. Over the last few days he had worked hard and eaten poorly.  So he allowed his weakness to take over and stayed in bed all day long, only dozing off, but he couldn't sleep deeply.  Finally time passed by without him being concious of it. Now and then a few isolated images and memories appeared to his closed eyelids. He could see Sara walking around at home, among lots of guests, while he was standing near the cliff looking at the horizon, smelling the salty foam of thecean.

             When the sun had set, he couldn't keep his eyelids closed anymore. He got up and went to sit down in front of the window, looking out over the sea. There, without moving a muscle, he sat, through all the hours of the night and most of the next morning. While it was dark, he sat staring at the darkness without blinking. When the sun had risen, he didn't move his eyes, and continued to stare out at the curtain of rain outside. Throughout that period, he grabbed the old armchair with taught, tense fingers.  Around midday, the telephone rang. "Dave, I'm worried. It's been a long time since I visited Sara for the last time. Whatever happens, whatever happened, you can count on me and my help. Whatever. Just pick up the phone and call me. We will find a solution together." Dave put down the phone, stood up, and shut his eyes tightly. He felt the emptiness of the house all around him. Bedroom, kitchen, dinning room... everything was loneliness and rain.

             He stood like that for longer than an hour, his body trembling, without knowing if he was going forwards or backwards. The only noise was the raindrops hitting the glass window . Then he opened his eyes and went to the front door. He threw open the boxes, in search of the red dress. When he finally discovered it, he put the dress in a plastic bag, grabbed his raincoat from the coat rack and hurried towards the forest. Before he had even reached the first row of trees, he was soaking wet. He walked briskly, clutching the bag tightly. The ground under his soles had turned into a messy pool of slippery mud which gushed down the hilll between the trees. Every step that he took was a tormenting task. Sometimes the mud was so deep it reached up to over his ankles, and at other times he stumbled over a tree root, falling to his knees. He could hardly see further than the next tree.

             Tears streamed down his face. He couldn't see through the damp mixture of tears and rain. He walked ahead for what seemed like hours, trying to find the spot where he had buried Sara's body. He wanted to . But his mind couldn't remember the place he had wanted to forget from the start. He tried walking in all directions in the forest without finding the grave, reaching the outskirts of the city again and again. There, while he tried to recover his breath, he stared at the buildings under the rain. Time after time he saw the colourful umbrellas of people moving around, the headlights of cars breaking the grey light of the streets. There in the meadow that separated the forest from the city, he rediscovered a sense of peace. The elusive path in the forest took him to that meadow three or four times, and became a place for him to rest, each time a little bit longer than before. And then, a feeling that was not completely different from outrage forced him to walk back to the clumps of trees. He kept on walking until exhaustion brought his legs to a standstill. The night was pitch black, the rain had even stopped. He lay down on the mud.  His eyes were closed very soon... he went into a state of somewhere between dreaming and unconsciousness.
 
             The sweltering heat and penetrating beam of a sun that was already sitting high in the sky awoke him. He tried to get up, but his body was numb, almost frozen. He was covered in a thin layer of snow. A night snowfall had completely whitened the ground and the forest surroundings, the trees, the pebbles, and the sky was crystal clear. There was no smell in the air. He realised he was still clutching onto the plastic bag, and he took a look around him. Everything around him was silent, motionless and calm. All his muscles were aching, even just by thinking about moving them. After many attempts, he was finally able to sit down. Then he realised he was in a clearing, a place that felt strangely familiar. A burst of energy came to him suddenly, and with exhausted hands he started to dig in haste.  With vigorous movements he dug up the soil and the stones... until his hands came to an abrupt halt when it hit a web of hard roots. It would be impossible to dig a grave in that spot. Dave burst into tears. For a long time, his sobs were the only sound among the snow and the trees.

             A few hours later he returned home to a landscape devoid of clouds and where the wind was but a soft breeze and the waves were unable to smash their frothy spray against the rockface. Slowly he walked to the phone and dialled the doctor's number. He came to Dave immediately.  Within half an hour, he had certified that Sara had died exactly at ten o'clock that same morning, and that her body had been buried, in accordance with the law, in the back yard of their house, as per her husband's wishes.  A small funeral would be held the next day.

             Ten o'clock in the morning. Sand in the wind. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later.