writing exercise: leitmotif

The Rocking Chair

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

Guard me Jesus through the night,

And wake me with the morning light.

I couldn't breathe. The early morning light nearly blinded me when I forced my eyes to open, but it was infinitely better than the images haunting my dreams. My neck was stiff as a board as I sat up and looked around the chilly room. I didn't remember falling asleep in my grandmother's rocking chair, but I must have. My legs felt numb as I set my bare feet on the cold wooden floor. The room was sparsely furnished, only a small writing desk, a love seat and the old wooden chair rocking slightly in the sunlight. I wondered if Lucian was planning another project that would never get finished. Where was our portrait? I wondered as I ran my hand lightly along the barren wall. I took one last look at the room as I stood in the doorway. It was odd that he'd place the rocking chair in here. I hadn't seen it since Quinn stopped wearing diapers. 

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

When in the morning light I wake,

Teach me the path of love to take.

I woke to the voices from above. The muffled sound traveled down the stairs and through the open door to the living room, where I had fallen asleep to the soothing sway of the chair. I couldn't hear the words being spoken, but the sound of footsteps indicated that they were the in the bedroom. My curiosity got the better of me, and despite all warnings about feline fatalities, I slowly crept up the stairs. The voices got louder as I approached and I was able to identify Lucian as one of the speakers. 

"I just don't think we should do this here."

"Luc-" Luc? Who was this woman, who had a nickname for my husband? I listened closely as leaned against the wall by the bedroom door. 

"Zoey, you have to understand my position, I-"

"I do understand, Luc, I do. But we've been doing this for almost a year, it's time."

I risked a peek around the doorway and stopped breathing. Whoever this woman was, she had her arms wrapped around his waist and Lucian wasn't exactly resisting the embrace. I felt like my heart was dying. 

"She's here, Zo. She's here in this house and this is our room. I can't destroy everything I had with her in this room, in this house."

I lost my ability to feel, my emotions suspended as I took in what was said. Had. He said had, not have. A year? 

I returned to my position against the wall, thoughts and memories racing through my mind as I tried to understand how I could've missed this whole other life he had been living. The sound of the two of them approaching spurred me into action and I quickly ducked into Quinn's room. The walls remained a comforting blue, but all evidence of his childhood had been removed. It was just as empty as the room below.

I watched the pair through the small space between the door and the wall. They were holding hands and Lucian paused at the top of the stairs to place a gentle kiss on her lips. My voice cracked as I whispered his name. He turned his head quickly at the sound and I stepped away from the door. 

"What is it Luc?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It sounded like...nothing. Never mind. Let's get you out of here before-"

I let out a long breath as their voices faded away. 

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

Guide me through the starry night,

Wake me when the sun shines bright

The darkness was smothering. As my eyes adjusted I realized what had awoken me. Crying. I planted my feet to cease the rhythmic movement of the chair and instinctively looked down. But my arms only cradled me. I turned away from the window and to the source of the crying. I could make out the white linens in the starlight and the silhouette beneath them. I realized he was asleep as I moved to stand next to my side of the bed. He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm beneath his head and the other clutching my pillow. There was a trail of tears down his cheeks and onto the pristine pillowcase. I couldn't resist the urge to gently move the lock of hair that fell over his brow. 

"My Mina."

He sighed my name and I froze. In sleep he looked innocent and I could see clearly what Quinn would become.

"Lucky." 

I gave him the nickname on our first date. There had been a moment when the conversation faded as we sat on a bus bench, watching people stream past. He turned to me with a small smile on his face and I asked him what he was feeling. He grabbed my hand and said, "Lucky."

From then on, that's all I called him. Well, except for those twenty hours of labor when I was cursing him and his role in Quinn's conception. And he called me My Mina. His love. 

His tears had stopped, but I realized now that my own cheeks were wet with my silent weeping. I turned away from the bed and saw the rocker illuminated by stars. How did it get up here? I walked over and ran my hand down the well-worn wood. Standing with one hand on its back I turned back to my sleeping husband. 

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the lord my soul to take.

He sat in the chair, his elbows digging into his thigh, head in hands. There were no more tears now with the sunlight streaming into the room. It was the only piece of furniture left in the room we had lived in together for nearly twenty years. I leaned against the wall facing him, my arms wrapped around me in a futile attempt to hold in the pain. There were no tears, but I could feel his pain as acutely as my own. 

"Lucky-" I started, but there were no words left to say. It was all so unfair. 

"I'm sorry." His voice was rough from his earlier sobs. "My Mina, I'm so sorry. I don't want to leave, but-"

"Then don't," I whispered, "Don't go."

He looked up and stared straight at me, hope and pain in his eyes. But then he closed his eyes and sighed. 

"I have to. Its what's best. For both of us."

"No, Lucky-"

"Dad?"

We both turned as Quinn walked into the room. I took a step forward and reached out to my baby boy. No, not a baby. My son. Nearly full-grown now. 

"Dad, what are you doing up here?" Quinn asked as he moved toward his father, not noticing my presence. Lucky stood up as he approached. 

"I'm just-" he cleared his throat, "I'm just saying my goodbyes, Quinn. I just needed her--needed her to know I still love her."

"Dad." Quinn hugged his father and it took my breath away. I took a step forward, but his words stopped me. 

"She knows," he whispered, "She's been gone two years, and wherever she is, she knows we love her. We always will."

He continued on in hushed tones, but I didn't hear what he said. I was distracted as the memories flooded in. I remembered getting caught in the rain, the fever and my laughing protests that I was just "under the weather" and needed a short nap. I remembered now Lucky's worried voice as he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead and my tired request for my nana's rocker to help me sleep. Sleep always came easier in the rocking chair. 

I broke out of my reverie as the two began to make their way to the door. The chair silently rested in a patch of sunlight by the window. When they reached the doorway they turned back.

"We love you."

As the words filled the empty room, I sat down in the chair setting it to slowly move with me. I looked at the empty doorway and smiled at the memory of my boys. 

"I love you, too. Always."

I leaned back against the rocker and let sleep claim me. 

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

I ask not for myself alone,

but for thy children--every one.