Every day was the same. Each one ran into the other until she'd lost all sense
of time. She no longer cared what time it was, or what day it was, for that matter. There weren't many
things she cared about any more,
Lately she'd spent a lot of time buried in the past. The present was so hard
and the future, well, she couldn't even bare to think about that.
This morning, after she'd just barely managed to get the kids out to the
school bus on time, she sat for a long time staring into the congealing
coffee in her ancient, chipped mug. The mug was the first gift her husband
had ever given her. So many years, so many tears ago.
They were so much in love. He was so young and handsome. The first time she
saw him, she knew instantly he had to be the one. It was three months
after their first date that he'd whipped out the beautifully wrapped box and
handed it to her. Eyes twinkling, he told her,
"So you can think of me every morning when you use it."
Painted gayly on the mug were these words....To
The Woman I Will Always Love.
She thought of him, as she sat there. The thoughts were
not exactly the kind he'd had in mind way back then. This morning she thought
of the first time he'd hit her. Just a "little love tap" he'd told her. It
would "never happen again". He said those same words the next four or five
There came the night he almost killed her and as he sat by her
hospital bed, he swore he'd never hit her again. Strangely enough he was true to his word; he never
raised a hand to her again. His fists were stalled, but his mouth went into over-drive. Words can cut even
deeper than a knife sometimes, knock you even flatter than the hardest punch.
She hated being weak. Hated that she still loved
him. It was her love that gave power to his words. Her weakness that let the words break her.
Sometimes in her dreams, he would
come to her. He'd look into her eyes and tell her
how much he loved her, how very much he needed her. Tell her he would die for
her if he had to.
She wasn't dreaming today.
She got up, put her cup into the sink and washed the
breakfast dishes, just as she'd done every other day for fifteen years.
She wanted the house to look perfect today. She set about making the
beds and sweeping the floors. She picked up all the kids toys and vacuumed
the rugs. Surveying each room she was satisfied that all was about as perfect
as it was going to get.
She drew a bath for herself, filling the tub almost to overflowing
with bubbles. The warm water soothed her weary bones and she soaked
languidly until the water was cold and the bubbles fell flat. Wrapping
herself in a huge soft bathrobe she walked over to the bathroom counter where
her makeup was organized in neat little rows. She took her time applying her
makeup using her favourite lipstick and eyeshadows. She wanted to look
beautiful today. She walked over to the closet and took out her
favourite dress, the one she always got complimented on. Looking into the
mirror again she brushed her long dark tresses and arranged them into an
upswept ponytail. It was the way her husband most liked her hair.
As she walked back down the stairs, she felt a new sense of peaceful calm. She'd
finally made a decision. She finally knew what to do.
She once again removed the vacuum cleaner from the broom closet, this
time unscrewing the hose and taking it to the garage with her. She worked one
end of the hose over the car exhaust. The other end she put into the front
car window. Making certain she had remembered to
tightly shut the garage doors, she stepped into the car and turned on the
ignition. She wound the window up.
Leaning back, smiling slightly, she closed her eyes and willed herself
to dream. There he was, looking down into her eyes, telling her how much he
loved her. Gazing into his eyes she began to drift away. When she could no longer make out his face, she opened her
eyes hoping to see him more clearly. An object on the seat beside her came
into focus. It was a piece of paper. There were four sweet words printed on
that little piece of paper in a childish scrawl.....Mommy I Love You.
As she placed the vacuum cleaner hose back in the broom closet, many voices
vied for attention in her head. The loudest one said, "Maybe tomorrow will be a better
This short story and all text
and graphics on this page :
Copyright © 1998 - 2004
by Charmaine V.
All Rights Reserved
Thought I'd just better mention that this little story is
pure fiction and not in any way autobiographical. I got the idea for this
story when I heard of a woman who killed herself, leaving three kids behind
because her husband was having an affair. This story is somewhat different from
hers but the point I was trying to get across is that NO man is ever worth
leaving your children without a Mom for....EVER ! Do your children and yourself
a favour and get out of there while you still can.