The Color of Home: A Novel

The Color of Home: A Novel by Rich Marcello Page A

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Authors: Rich Marcello
amplifiers, his first bass guitar, black box synthesizers, endless cables, a case of guitar polish. . . .
    Did everyone leave? He started to sob. The ultimatum. If she left him, they were done. He was moving on and was going to find someone who actually wanted to be with him, who understood how much he had to offer. Too much pride. Didn’t seem right. The path of reason. He knew she was scared. He was scared too. But they loved each other and belonged together. They could figure things out if they just tried to do it together. Would she commit to trying? Maybe. Higher ground. He loved her. He was strong enough to handle the truth. Death was the only immutable. If she needed space, he would give it to her. But he needed some way to check in with her every so often to see if she was still in the same place. Last resort.
    Back on his feet, he switched the light off. In the dark, the smell of guitar polish reminded him of how much he loved music.
• • •
    When Nick stepped into the apartment later that night, Sassa met him at the door wearing only his Yellow Submarine T-shirt. Like many nights over the past year, dozens of lit candles had turned the living room into a grotto. Sage scented the air.
    She extended her hand palm up. Her eyes were puffy. “How are you doing?”
    He took her hand. “Can we let things settle for a few days and see if splitting up still makes sense? This is such a big decision. Maybe we’re scared and there’s a chance we can work things out.”
    She wrapped both arms around him, and pulled him close. Resting her head on his shoulder, she clung for a bit, then gently, silently, guided him to their bedroom.
    On the way, he grazed his finger along the wall to fill the place with love, as he’d done many times before. He’d stored so much during the year. Was this the last time? Or was there hope?
    In the bedroom, she whispered, “Leave the lights on.”
    At the foot of the bed, she undressed him slowly, expertly. Pulled his shirt off. Unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans until they dropped softly to the ground. Expanded the elastic on his boxers until they ballooned over his hips and fell.
    A moment later, he was naked on the unmade bed watching her undress. She was so beautiful. It almost made him forget.
    On top of him, with her hair draped over her breasts, she let him enter her. Eyes open and penetrating, at first she moved slowly, as if she wanted to make sure he understood, as if anything she could say wouldn’t be enough, as if only their joined bodies could understand. Once she’d cycled through, she sped up; let repetition, intensity, reinforce the truth.
    He had to look away. She had so much compassion. Love. Strength of purpose. The alarm clock on the nightstand read exactly 9:49. At 9:51, he abandoned any hope of persuading her to stay. She needed to leave. He had to let go. Somehow on the way toward good-bye, he managed to keep the sadness out of the room, thankful for one last time when he could lose himself.
    Afterward, he flicked the lights off. The outside street lamp barely illuminated the room. The underlight had morphed him into a shadow. He glanced over at Sassa, who had fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately, as if a giant weight had been lifted, as if she were free-dreaming. Still naked, he covered himself with a sheet, and folded his hands behind his head. What makes someone a soul mate? Effortlessness. They had that. Trust. They had that. Honesty. That, too. Lust. Yep. Nothing about being whole first. Not a single thing. He’d found his soul mate; he’d found home, but she hadn’t. Was there a way forward together? His heart offered one answer, his head another, and in the end, old patterns won out.
    A thought took shape. He turned on his side and tangled his finger in a strand of her hair. She’d entered his life as an “almost” and was destined to leave the same way.
• • •
    On the morning Sassa moved out, Nick met her one last time

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