Devoted

Florence enters the sitting room catching sight of James seated in one of the armchairs. His ever-present cigarette between his first fingers, smoke curling around his head. The creaking of the floorboards is unnaturally loud without the music she had played every day after Hans had left. She couldn't stand the silent house after he had gone and played the gramophone every day to fill his absence. Glancing at the closed case she tries to remember the last time she had played it. Before James came home? Crossing the room to the gramophone she opens the case and selects a vinyl, following the steps she had watched Hans do so many times. The opening notes begin to play and she hums along.

"Turn it off," James commands and she acts as if she doesn't hear him and he raises his voice, "Turn the bloody thing off!"

Florence stiffens, keeping her eyes on the spinning vinyl. Shakily she removes the needle from the vinyl and places it back in the paper cover. Closing the lid, the latch clicking into place she bites her lip. Will she never be allowed to play music in her home again? Never hear the sweet chords of the same songs Hans had played for her on his violin that had moved her to tears? No, James just needs time to settle. It's just too soon.

A month has passed since she went to pick her husband up from the train station. She isn't sure that she even picked up her husband. This man sitting before her looked and shared his name, but was nothing like the man she married. Gone was the soft, vibrant man James had been, and in his place a wreck of a man. She had tried to ignore the tremor in his hands until this morning when he lost half the pail of milk. He refused her help so she is taking it on herself to speak with Ron this evening when he comes over for dinner. She hopes he will listen to the older man and friend.

Taking the chair opposite of James she studies him in the light filtering through the window. Dark circles stand out against his green eyes, even darker than when he had arrived. Nightmares plague his dreams every night, forcing Florence to wake him and provide comfort. It's the only touch she receives from James, they haven't tried to make love since their botched first attempts a month ago. James barely looks at her let alone touches her and she longs for the touch of a man.

Except it's not James she imagines, it's Hans. Every night when she lays next to James, not touching or speaking, she torments herself by reliving the touch of Hans. His lips against hers, strong hands over hers on the violin, and holding her in his arms like she was the only thing he needed.

"What are you thinking of?" James asks, so softly it barely registers.

"What?" she asks leaning towards him to hear better.

James stares at her, his eyes glassy and pupils large. She rarely sees him with alcohol but it's ever present in glassy eyes, and the smell. He brings the cigarette to his mouth, the tip glowing red as he puffs on it before letting his hand fall to the side. Blowing the smoke out through his nostrils he looks at the floor and Florence waits for his response.

"You always get this far-off look, like you are somewhere else. And you smile, you never smile for me anymore."

It's accusatory and Florence stiffens, surely he can't know. She folds her hands in her lap to stop any nervous fidgeting in case James looks at her. What does she say? Yes, she's thinking of another man while he sits in front of her. That he's right and she doesn't smile at her husband who doesn't touch her. She's caught at an impasse, either she lies or hurts herself. Or she tells the truth and hurts James. She thought she would have more time before she had to tell him the truth.

"Tell me, Flo!" James shouts rising to his feet to tower over her chair.

For the first time since she has met James, she feels fear. It's like ice water coursing through her veins when she meets his eyes. His expression is unreadable making him seem even more dangerous. Looking down at her hands she notices her knuckles have turned white from clasping them together. Shaking them out and buying herself time to decide her course of action she's taken aback when James grabs the arms of the chair.