Her by Valeria Yatskevich

Sometimes he had overwhelmingly strong desire
to see her. In such moments Mark was resistless. He even could feel weird physical pain if he didn’t see her for a long period of time. At nights when he didn’t need to work as a taxi driver he could not sleep at all: he thought that he need to see her just for a while.
When he had noticed her at the first time he became baffled and shocked. That night he was waiting for a client near the French restaurant. At the other side of the road there were a Historian museum  and a bus stop. It was almost midnight and the deserted streets were illuminated by the weak light of lanterns; therefore firstly he had not noticed the woman who had got out of the door of the museum and stayed near the bus stop. The client had  made him waiting for forty minutes and Mark’s fatigue became to turn into fury. Mark had hit the car wheel with angry and thought that if that punctual client did not come for  ten minutes he would come to his destination by  bus. Mark had looked at the bus stop and confused. Suddenly he had felt that his breath was intercepted and his throat was dry. He had not believed his eyes. ‘Maybe, I sleep? Perhaps, I was waiting for the client and fell asleep’ he thought.
The woman had looked as his Angeline. He had thought: ‘ I have not seen my Angel so beautiful for almost three years! I even forgot that she can be so charming, so energetic, so… alive’.
Of course, he knew that it wasn’t her. It was just the woman who looked like her.  The both women had long curly brown hair and  neat thin features. However, the woman’s cheeks were rose and skin was pink and healthy while in his memories Angeline’s skin  were pale and even grey in contrast with her crimson blood which had come out of her cut veins.
He did not remember her in another way. He just remembered his Angel in the bath full of cold water and her blood, his Angel was like broken toy of the God. He knew that he had  tried to save her because her weak lung had still fulfilled the respiratory function, but he did not remember what exactly he had done. His trying was reflex because he had known that she would die anyway. She had got a brain cancer. Only ten minutes after her death Mark had understood that  she was not alive any more. He had noticed that she looked like statue with  lifeless dark eyes and bloodless lips and that was the only her look that he could call from his memory. He had not cried about her death and said just few general statements at her funeral. His heart was paralyzed by Angel’s death and his mind was afraid of the memory of her distorted motionless body.
But when he had seen the woman who looked like his dead wife he could not stop crying for almost four hours. Mark had not continue to wait for the client and with  tears in his eyes driven to the cemetery to see Angel’s grave. He had crossed over the cemetery’s  fence. He had moved slowly and quietly. He had stopped near her grave and talked with her about everything that had came to his mind. ‘I am  studying medicine. At night I work as taxi driver. Sometimes I meet your older brother, Jacob. I suppose, he will marry soon. I try to care for  gold fishes you had bought. I  bought new bigger aquarium for them. Oh, Angel, I… What do I say?! It is hard… Hard to see you in another woman! You!’ he had said with pain. His voice was raucous. It had took great effort for him to say: ‘You are d… You are not alive… I know why you did that. But understanding doesn’t mean forgiveness. How can I forgive myself that I could not help you to become  happy  even if the happiness would be short? Why I couldn’t persuade you that we would be happy?’. And he had told her all his pain and desperate but only the sound of wind was the answer for his questions.
After that night he became to park at the other side of the road near the Historian museum and wait for the woman. She worked at the museum from Monday till Saturday almost to the midnight. Mark felt himself calm when he saw how she comes to the bus. He always sadly smiled when the bus passed his taxi. However, he had to work and sometimes he did not come to see her for weeks until the hellish desire to see the woman did not again own his mind. And he again parked the taxi near the museum and wait for her.
One night he took his observation point and saw her in nice green dress. Mark thought: ‘This color matches Angeline  so much!’. When he realized that he had called the woman by the name of his dead wife he became frightened. He thought: ‘How could I even do it? This woman really looks like Angel, my alive Angel, with sparkling eyes, confident gestures and beating heart. It does not mean I can like this fleshly spirit! She is  just a picture of the woman I love but I can love this  picture! My Angel don’t deserve to be betrayed…’ Suddenly, Mark  stopped talking. He looked at his reflection in the front view mirror and quietly said to himself: ‘But did not Angel betray you?’.  And Mark decided that until he did not get the forgiveness from his wife (even if he yet did not know have to do it) and until he did not forget his wife he would not come to see the woman any more even if it hurt him.