Rita and the Rifle

She closed her eyes for that ethereal moment..
The music intoxicated her, and slowly seeped into her veins, then started flowing from the corners of her eyes, her heart melted in teardrops.
It was as if she was taken back, back to the longing, the glances, the pregnant silences, bewitching smiles and the way she didn't feel her hand anymore as he took it into his, as if it belonged there, a part of his hand, like the last piece of a long forgotten, unfinished puzzle.. It fit.
Or did it?
She didn't know anymore

"Rita's name was a feast in my mouth.. Rita's body was a wedding in my blood" The words of the song, "Rita and the Rifle"
"And we burnt in the wine of our lips" it went..
She felt the song, the music, the lyrics.. And it hurt, it burnt, as much as the scalding tears on her pale cheeks.
It brought back the way he used to take the breath from upon her lips, and give her his in return. To breathe
She never did breathe after that,
And the walks under the pouring rain; she could almost see him, her hand lost in his "careful habibti", he'd say when they neared a puddle, " I won't drown Ziad!" she'd say, teasing him. And he would pull her further from the puddle, as if her words were a threat of her jumping in..
She couldn't help but smile, in the bitterness of it all.
She hated her dependency, the way she needed him so badly......
She hated it, the way his clear eyes could see into her soul. The way his eyes brimmed, when she had one of her mad fits and told him she didn't love him.. He stood there, calmly, and said, "Well, I’ll never stop loving you Katia.. I love you, I love you DAMN IT".

"You know" he had said, the last time they spoke, "I need space, I don't know how I feel anymore. I...”
Every fiber of pride vibrated in her, she put on a brave face, got up and left.
He did try to talk to her afterwards, but she never picked up the phone, avoided him when she saw him, to her, he was buried, along with the pain that killed her slowly.

But that was months ago..
And she hadn't heard anything about him lately
Her dignity sustained her for a long time. But now...
"It’s the music" she thought,” it’s bringing back the pain",
It swelled in her ears, the music.
But he did love her, didn't he?
It was in his looks, his voice, his touch, those couldn't be wrong, or fake, or unsure. ...As he said.

The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Katia?"
"Yes it is, who is this?"
"I’m Ziad's cousin, Rami",
"Well, it's over between me and Ziad",
"Katia" he cut in,
"Ziad's dead, he had terminal cancer, he didn't want to tell you he only had a few months to live...”
She hadn't heard the last part.
All she heard was her sobs, as she buried her face in her knees, and the end of the song "Between Rita, and my eyes, was a rifle".