The Tapestry

The Tapestry
This tapestry makes me nervous. I see it when I wake up and when I return from work. The pattern of green and orange stripes is too psychedelic for me. But I will never throw away the tapestry; it was Vanessa’s favorite decoration. And it will remind me about her after our recent and final breakup.
Vanessa. We were together for about three years; she was my first and only love. I was 23 when we met, and she made a man of me in all senses of this term. Our first year was like a dream; we reflected the belief that opposites attract. Vanessa was 18, she went to the art college and wanted to become a famous abstractionist. I abandoned the high education after the first year and worked as a construction man. I have never understood her attraction to these combinations of stains and stripes. But I always tried to support
her initiatives. That is how a good boyfriend should act, right?
Well, the life showed I should do something more. Our ideal world broke when the second year began. Vanessa started to criticize me; she argued that I do not want to develop, I am a down-to-earth man and will never fully understand her. She started to spend more time with her college friends and found a new sympathy in this environment finally. I was destroyed; I spent hours under their windows begging for the second chance. After a month I called Vanessa, screamed that I cannot live without her, phoned off and took a handful of pills.
She still cared about me then.
Vanessa called the ambulance and rushed to my flat. Medics saved me, and Vanessa promised to give me another chance. That is when the tapestry appeared; she said it would symbolize the beginning of a new stage in our relations. We were able to restore a fragile peace for the next year. But the third one brought the total destruction of our love. Vanessa accused me in the manipulative behavior. She returned to her parents and lived with them for about a week several times. Last week she said she will not return despite all my words and suicidal attempts.
Vanessa really left me. Now I spend many evening hours looking at her tapestry. It is not the only thing she left with me, but it is one of few that keep a part of her. The thing is not only green and orange anymore; blood platter created a fanciful abstraction on its surface. Stains turned brown already, and this color reminds me about Vanessa’s hazel eyes. It was an accident; I have never hit her before. But she was so mean and awful that day; I did not understand how it happened. Vanessa laid on the floor when I was in countenance again; she did not
breathe.
Her parents think she went to Europe to expand her art experience; friends have the same opinion. I am the only one who knows Vanessa will never leave our town. Her body became the part of the basement of our new town council; I even held a small funeral ceremony, when put her there. I hope she was not too mad at me. If the afterlife really exists, I will try to apologize and explain my behavior to her tomorrow.