The Last Night: Snippet
Monica lay on her back, in her silken gown, eyes wide open. Did she wake herself up by snoring? Was it the water dripping from the faucet? She knew it was neither. The culprit was her wandering mind. On nights like these she couldn’t shut it off. She could hear the clock downstairs painstakingly tick as the secondhand worked its way around to the 12. “I have got to get a digital clock,” she thought to herself. But the clock was the least of her worries. Her mind was more focused on where her husband was and why he hadn’t called her to tell her he’d be late coming home. Late wasn’t the right word. It was 3 o’clock in the morning. Shouldn’t she know where here husband was? Didn’t most wives?
Dare she guess why? She knew it would eventually come to this. The intense sixth sense she got when he was home went off like a fire alarm. Lots of awkward silences, shifty eye movements. What else would it be? But she didn’t want to believe her feelings. At every chance she got she convinced herself that it was just paranoia. Her jealousy of his new career as an executive was getting the best of her. That was the way of coping with her senses and she knew it had to stop. Luckily they hadn’t had kids yet. The thoughts of that made her physically nauseous. She couldn’t imagine breaking their little hearts. It wouldn’t have been their fault yet they would have wondered what they did wrong. Ugh! Thank God they had no children. She’d seen it with her other girlfriends, how many times they get involved as an innocent in the emotional showdown between a husband and wife. So naively picking sides, wondering why mommy is hurting daddy. Thank God she didn’t have to worry about that.
She heard the large hacienda style door close. Was her world about to come to an end? The glamorous lifestyle that she had grown so accustomed to? Frequent trips to St. Tropez, Italy, and Spain without a second thought. Was his success why she had stayed so long or was it love? In the beginning it was love. In the beginning there was hope. But the two longed for emotions had faded during the course of their 6 year marriage. She did what she could to keep the marriage fresh and alive. Trying to fill his every sexual need was right up there with making sure the house was kept up and there was home cooked food on the table. Cooked by her and not some maid that could have slaved in the kitchen instead. She could hear his footsteps strategically and methodically climbing the stairs. But it was too late she was already awake and waiting.
Regardless of the fanciful life they have led. Regardless of all the tags that still remained on designer dresses, she knew she had to end this. She could no longer ignore the faint scents of perfume that were not her own. The different shades of lipstick that were accidentally left behind by some cheap romp with the girl of the week. Or perhaps all is left behind by the same woman? Did he love this woman? Did she love him back? Monica knew she loved him. She still wanted him. But she wasn’t in the relationship by herself. She needed him to help her make it work and it seemed he had checked out long time ago. She could hear him stop off on the second level of the house to one of the guest bedrooms to take a shower. Tears began to weld up and start to run down out of the corner of her eyes. She thought to herself, “You have to be strong. Don’t start.”
She arose out of bed and quickly ran downstairs to the bathroom where he tried to wash away the evidence of his violation to their marriage. She raced down and suddenly slowed and quieted her pace as she approached the threshold to the bathroom. He apparently thought he was so slick that he didn’t even bother closing the bathroom door or did he just not care anymore? She saw his custom fit Italian suit carelessly tossed over the wicker of the linen basket. She reached out to pick up the suit. But for some reason she quickly drew back her hand in hesitation. Too afraid to find another answer to her already known suspicions. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t check. Was she crazy? She had snuck down this far and now she was going to turn away? Yes. She thought to herself. She was. She slowly turned around, quietly slipping into the darkness of the lavish guest bedroom. One foot after the next slowly made their way to the staircase. Head hung low, she climbed the steps. Why had she not done what her heart told her to do? What every fiber of her being screamed at her to do? She couldn’t answer. She honestly didn’t know why. She made it to the top of the steps, paused and continued on into the empty bedroom that no longer saw a happy couple within it. She climbed into the bed to wait for him. To wait for his touch that she still longed for. As she lay there waiting for his shower to end, she could hear him once again climbing the stairs. His fresh scent, mixed with his trademark cologne swept its way under her nose, reminding her of how sweet their lovemaking used to be. He climbed into the bed next to her and wrapped his familiar arms around her shoulders to appear as though he just rolled over and had not come from some tawdry, dirty, love affair. Her emotions ran wild. And without any thought, any warning, in amazement of her own self, a deep painful voice within her blurted out, “I’m leaving you.”
These little snippets are not complete stories but an interjection into another's world. Just enough of something to take you someplace else for a brief moment. Feel free to let me know how you think the story should end if it is left open. Let me know if you enjoy these. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!
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