Tuesday, July 14, 2009
P.S. - I usually only write fantasy/sci-fi so this was pretty new to me and caught me off gaurd so I dunno how well it turned out...
She sat on the edge of her four poster bed staring at the blank screen on her cell phone. He hadn’t called in over a month; she’d asked him not to, so that was a good thing. Right? A sign that he respected her wishes. Respected her.
Damn him for not calling. Damn him for caring. And damn her for missing him.
She was married now. She had a life. She was happy. Wasn’t she? Her husband was a great man, kind and understanding. Her son was the most adorable child she’d ever seen, and smarter than she could’ve ever hoped.
So what was the problem?
Tears welled in her eyes and her cell phone went blurry. She sniffled, trying to hold them back. She’d asked him to stop calling, and he had. And she hated him for it. She wiped the tears away from her eyes and scrolled through the phonebook on her cell. She stopped at his name. Should she call him? What would she say?
Her finger slipped, pressing the call button; she panicked. She hit the end call button a dozen times, tears running freely down her face. She hated him for doing this to her. For making her feel this way.
He was the one who left. Him. Not her. He was the one who abandoned her. And she’d moved on his absence, but things were never quite the same. She hadn’t been the same. Her smiles never reached the corners of her eyes, her laughs were never totally genuine, and she’d never looked at anyone the way she’d looked at him. Even after she’d met her husband, after they’d gotten married. It was only after her son was born that she’d started getting back to the way she’d been before. But everyone knew why, even if her husband had been too naïve to see it. They knew.
She jumped up off the bed and threw the phone at the wall; it shattered into a handful of pieces and fell scattered on the floor. She collapsed to the floor in a fit of fresh tears. She lay crumpled on the floor, sobs wracking her body.
The door closed downstairs, marking the return of her husband. She pulled herself into a standing position with the help of the bed and leaned against the post at the end near the window, her arm wrapped around it for support.
“Hello?” His voice rang through the house. She couldn’t bring herself to answer.
She stared out the thin curtain at the crisp, clean yards of her neighbors and she wished it hadn’t come to this. His footsteps made dull “thumps” as he climbed the carpeted stairs. The door creaked open and he stopped in the doorway, taking note of the scattered remains of her phone.
She felt his eyes on her back and she went stiff. She held her head up and her shoulders back to hide the tears flowing from the corners of her eyes. She let out a shaky breath.
“I see.” He said; his voice was hollow. “Is that it then? You’re just going to give up?”
What could she say? That she was sorry. That she should have never married him. That she was weak. No. She couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to him.
“You took a vow, Sara! And you’re just going to throw it away? That should mean something to you. Your family? What about Charlie? Huh? He’s my son too! Are you just going to throw away everything we had?” He was angry. He had every right to be, but he had a right to the truth. If she didn’t do it now, she’d never forgive herself.
“That’s just it, Paul, he’s not your son.” Sara croaked, fresh tears spilling down her splotchy cheeks. She turned around and locked her bloodshot eyes with his, “And I don’t think you ever had me.”