International Writers Magazine - Our Tenth Year: Life Stories
Mom did her best to patch us up; but my hurt was too deep, I couldnt
hack it anymore. The bastard never said a word in defense; I wish
he had. Some guilt at least; he just stared back; a bit lost as
I tore into him. I cant remember what I said; it is all an
angry blur now; he took it like a man. I think I wanted names; he
was a vault; that pissed me off more. A torrent of tears would have
calmed me somewhat; but he had none; I wanted it. There were no
vulgar displays; he didnt get down on his knees; he should
have. Id give anything to know why he did it to me; I cant
hate him still; god knows I want to.
I kicked him out
of course; he left without a word; didnt take anything with him.
I am hanging out for that call; its almost two weeks now; perhaps
hes back with that slut. But I heard some good rumors that she
had hightailed and he is all-alone, poetic justice. But they are rumors
after all; my breath is short again.
He perved shamelessly; even in my presence, but with callous indifference.
I repaid in kind with the same indifference. We were so comfortable.
I had him body and soul; I lived off it; then this; it is pure treachery.
The last three years couldnt have been a lie or was it? I cant
shake it off; the two of them; the sound works; how many times? Its
a curse. I want to do the same; but I cant get past him; I cant
My cheeks are quite wet; its been streaming down for the past hour;
I didnt even feel it. His pillows soaked as well; it still
smells the same; all him. I cant chuck it out. I hope mom doesnt
see; itll break her. She was the worst hit; that stunned me more;
she never had time for me. She moved in straight after he moved out;
shes been my lifeline. Perhaps I never read her right. I feel
bad now; she had her reservations; a single glare snuffed them out.
I had no time for her and her tuppence worth then; she didnt have
a bloody right. Yeah; thats right; she said he looked a phony;
not ready for the long haul.
This was after he surprised her with twenty roses; I could have easily
throttled her and him. I latched on to him later; I just wanted to introduce
him; there was no need to win her to our cause. It was meant to be basic
curtsey. He laughed it off; he was easy, he was confident; confident
in us. I had nothing to prove, nothing to defend. Well he proved me
wrong two weeks ago.
Well Mom smiled warmly enough for the photos; but she was always just
civil to him throughout our brief marriage. Strangely; she visited me
more than ever before, I wanted her out of my hair; she was looking
after me I guess. But he never took any of that frost on board; he was
Mr. charming, it never bothered him. I am sure I imagined that spark
of grudging admiration in her. It doesnt surprise me anymore;
he had infinite patience; he never gives up. She has proved her point
now; she never rubbed it in though. I feel really stupid now; Id
never be able to read anyone again; I dont have the skill set.
I hate myself; I feel cheap; he should crawl back, I want to crawl to
I told him no the first time he flashed the ring. It was stunning, four
carats of pure white. I wasnt ready of course; the lights were
dimmed; Bette Midler crooned the rose in the background; the restaurant
staff played their part. I hated myself then. You should have seen the
look on his face; he was shattered. He was one patient bastard though;
he played friend to perfection; gave me the space. Too much space; I
almost ran out of hints to inspire a second round on his knees. I couldnt
breath; my heart was thumping, I just wanted him to finish his damn
drill. I prayed to hold my nerves; I wanted a dignified Yes; my scream
almost floored him. The crowd was in stitches; he owned me ever since.
I am shaking from head to toe; his pillow cant dull my sobs; my
belly hurts like hell. Suddenly I am cushioned in a bear hug; I didnt
hear her enter; I didnt think she heard. It is so comforting;
I dont have to act; I gave it up two weeks ago. I am a child again;
I want to. Shes crooning something; I dont know what, it
When I come around shes lying next to me; fast asleep, one arm
over my waist. I slept like a log. Her pretty face is heavily drawn;
slight rings under her eyes; she shares my stress. Her red head of hair
is slightly faded; spiced with some grey. She looks hot still; waist;
super slender; legs perfectly toned and waxed. She couldnt pass
for my mother; I am kind of proud. Well she widowed pretty young; she
deserves a break. Perhaps that could be my project; she cant waste
for me. I just want to wake her up and thank her; but she needs her
sleep. She had not slept over the past few weeks; I know. I have heard
her sobbing late at night. I must learn to smile; force it at least;
thatll make her day.
I gently remove her arm; and slide off the bed. Its already dark
outside; I hate the dark; it is kind of depressing. I pass her room;
I can see the neat bed and the pressed pillows. There is that tell tale
mosaic on them; I dont deserve her; I just want to catch up for
lost time. I know I can pull through, with her. Who knows she might
help me back to the dating game; we can help each other. My own laugh
shocks me; it sounds strange; it feels awesome.
I can finally rip through his shit and throw them out; well he hasnt
come back for them anyway. I am spilling guts; I tiptoe back to my room;
she is still lost to the world; in peace. Its painful progress; Id
kill myself if she wakes up. She needs this sleep. Finally I am out
his briefcase in my hand. I always wanted to go through it; didnt
have the strength. I dash the contents on the floor; I am in the lounge
room. A few formal looking documents; The Daily Telegraph from two weeks
ago; pens, pager; photo; envelopes lie scattered on the ground. Photo;
I am on edge; my legs feel funny; my hearts deafening; I thought
I had guts. I take a closer look; a grainy old photo of an attractive
red head, she looks familiar. I cant bear a second scrutiny. My
hands are clammy and shaking violently; it cant be good for the
heart; damn her to hell. I know I can make a new start. I crush it and
throw it into the bin.
Huh; now I remember; she looked a bit like Mom; now thats funny.
Its a crazy feeling; I want to show it to Mom, coax a laugh from
one of us, thatll make her day. My hearts funny again as
I pick it from the bin, but its more bearable than before. I cant
still bring myself to take another look, but Mom I am sure will help
me make a slut out of her. I feel good after a long,long time.
© Jude Perera
Melbourne, Vic, Australia
Email: gogo72au at yahoo.com.au
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