Regret

t was early in the morning and darkness still engulfed the study. Mark sat in his armchair and simply stared at the VDU which had somehow failed to be switched on.

The only sound in the house was a whistling breeze emanating from the study window and the clinking sound of ice swimming around a glass of Cointraeu. The man that sat in the chair was tired. A determined scowl held heavy eyelids from sleep. But it was more than physical, Mark was tired of a great many things.

Fifteen years ago Mark met Ingrid. Ten years ago he married her. And though now she slept in the bedroom upstairs Mark had never felt more alone in all his life. Clinging to memories and to hope was no longer enough.

All those years ago Mark met the woman that would be his life. He could never understand what she did to him but perhaps that is why he loved her so. Ingrid loved another, though she wanted the attention Mark so willingly gave, the attention she deserved but had never received.

In a time when Ingrid's true love was nonchalant, Mark seized his opportunity and proposed. For all the wrong reasons they wed. Ingrid cried at the wedding and Mark convinced himself that it was in celebration for what she had gained rather than grieving at what she had lost.

In the ten years they were married Mark tried to win her heart. In his devotion he pushed Ingrid away, into memories of what could have been, what should have been.

Quickly Mark brushed aside an undisciplined tear. He was stronger than that. Slowly light began to push the night away and the stars, in which young lovers wish, died away.

Although their marriage was superficially perfunctory Mark knew that they would never be as one. With a shudder Mark recognized the familiar creak on the stairs outside the study.

In a moment Ingrid opened the study door. As she entered the sunshine followed her and drove gloom from the study. The sun cut through her gown and silhouetted the body she had given Mark through marriage. A few stray strands of wheaten hair lit up like a halo.

"Mark?" she gently queried. Her dark eyes reflected Mark's dark intention.

"In here ... my love" he said flatly.

Ingrid moved into the room and stood behind Mark. All was quiet. Mark drained his glass and placed it upon the proud oak desk in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and felt Ingrid's arms fold warmly around him. Firmly Mark held the hands that hugged him so.

The dull VDU reflected Ingrid's gaze as their eyes locked.

"I can't give anymore" Mark stated matter of factly.

Ingrid looked confused.

"What do you mean "can't give anymore"" she shot back at him.

She tried to breakaway but he held her firm.

Mark forced her to look at him through the screen. The reflection was direct, personal and yet not too painful.

"I mean" he continued "Our marriage, my life ... us". Mark turned into ice. As hard as rock he hit Ingrid with the facts, with the future. He hid his love somewhere deep, managed to contain it or else he would break down.

"You just haven't had enough sleep" Ingrid retorted. "It's been weeks since you have had a decent nights sleep, and you've been drinking."

She kissed the back of his neck

"Look how tense you are. It's been weeks since you've made love to me."

"Actually it's been months" Mark replied sure of his convictions "or hadn't you really noticed, or cared. But you're wrong. We never really made love, it takes two people in love to "make love". We had sex because you never loved me."

Furious, Ingrid managed to break free from Mark's grasp. While he stared at the screen she kicked this, tossed that and broke many things. Finally she turned to him with eyes black as coal and an internal fire to match.

"You bastard!" she screamed at him.

Mark leaned back in his chair and quietly closed the window behind him as if his only immediate concern were the neighbors. In a cry of anguish Ingrid jumped towards the desk and snatched up the VDU.

Splinters of glass assailed the peaceful morning air and the ringing of a VDU hitting concrete bounced around in Mark's head.

Ingrid collapsed to the floor and curled into a fetal position. She wept. Mark left the warmth of his chair and kneeled beside her. He wanted to hold her but found that he didn't even know how to touch her. He wanted to explain that everything would be all right but it would not be.

The sun now bled light into the room and the night became another painful memory. Wetness reflected sunshine off Mark's cheeks. After all these years he was finally a broken man, a beaten man because he could not find a way to combat a memory.

Awkwardly Mark put his arms around Ingrid and forced her into a sitting position. She tried to shrug him off but his embrace was too intense.

"I can't compete with him" Mark confessed as he held her near.

"With who?" Ingrid sobbed back through her hands.

"The man inside your head" he said quietly. "Go back to him and work it out. Either way you need to know, to exorcise this empathy for a memory. Please understand that I love you more than my life but I can't be your lover and have your body but not your soul." He finished with a loud sigh.

Slowly Ingrid squeezed his hand and turned to him. Her streaming tears were only outdone by his. They saw each other through the weather, and understood. Ferociously they hugged each other for the last time.

In time Ingrid found her memory but life didn't grow much brighter. However this man could live with Ingrid's memories, regrets and hesitation whereas Mark could not. Still she failed to realize that she loved the dream and not the man. Soon other dreams drifted her misguided heart.

Mark chose a different path. That night the full moon cast white gold upon the outside world as he drank much darkness into his heart. His love, his heart and his life fell into shadow. Insomnia cured, Mark slept for a most extraordinarily long time.