Do you remember last week I had been asking everyone to go vote for a story that I wrote and entered into a contest? It didn’t make it to the finals, but it does fit a Bloggy Mom’s Writing Workshop prompt so, here it is for your enjoyment. Based on the prompt: “If words could fly”
I wish spoken words were things that could be erased, forgotten. But now I knew, and we could never go back. The distance between us was the Grand Canyon, though it was a simple, small studio apartment that we lived in together. Not even the pastel flowers and bright curtains could cut through the darkness that lingered in every corner since he left. I tried consoling myself that I was right, that even if I had chosen different words to use, he still would have been wrong, but sometime between then and now, it ceased to matter. I had chosen those words to cross the distance and poison the air. I couldn’t take them back, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him back, either.
It started when he came home from work, chatting on the cellphone that was always plastered to his ear. He stopped in the kitchen, gave me the perfunctory kiss, and then went into the bedroom to change. I knew he was working on a large case with his firm’s reputation on the line. The senior partner of his law office had an affair with an underage girl and her mother was pressing charges. David had been assigned the task of running the mother through the mud. I didn’t approve, but what could I do? Whoever was on the opposite end of his phone was clearly arguing with him.
“I don’t really care what the excuse for her being there was. I don’t really care if she is working six jobs. The fact that she is not home to monitor her child’s behavior is what I do care about. How can she possibly justify suing Andrew, if she isn’t even home to stop her own daughter from whoring around?” I watched his hand make new paths through his thinning hair before I turned away. I could no longer listen to the conversation. I wasn’t even sure if I knew who my husband was anymore.
He came looking for me when his conversation was finished. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“I don’t know who you are any more.” Sniffles punctuated each word.
“I’m still the same man you married. I promise.”
“How can you be when you talk about a single mother needing to work, then in the same breath, you chastise her for not being there? You called that child a whore. I heard you. If anyone is a whore, it’s your boss.”
“Now you are jumping to conclusions.” Sharpness entered his voice, and I knew I was on dangerous ground. I didn’t care. I needed to know who he was.
“Am I? Even if that child pranced around in front of him completely naked, he should have been able to keep his pants on. He’s a fifty year old man with children of his own for God’s sake!”
“It doesn’t matter. I have a job to do, and I’m doing it.”
“Did you have a choice? You aren’t a junior lawyer anymore. You couldn’t pass this off to someone else?”
“Why are we even talking about this? Don’t you enjoy the paychecks I get? What? You want something? I’m busting my ass to give you the things you want.”
“You did have a choice, didn’t you, and you took the job anyway. Why?”
“Tell me what you want. Is it a house? I’ll call a realtor tomorrow. Is it a new car? Fine. New clothes? Let’s go shopping!” The green paper assault stung more than it hurt. The Presidents landed in soft falls at my feet.
“I want the man I married. I want the man who wouldn’t jeopardize his values to hobnob with his boss. I want the man who stood firm on his own convictions. I don’t want this monster I see standing before me throwing money at me like I’m a whore in a two-bit dance hall. I don’t want this power hungry, bend over and take it up the ass man standing two feet in front of me. I can smell the greed dripping from you. What happened to you? Where is the David I married?”
He quietly turned away so I couldn’t see his emotions. He pulled his suitcase from the closet, filled it before turning to me. His steel orbs brimmed with water.
“The only person I’m taking it ‘up the ass’ from is you,” echoed from the hallway as he left, his words flying behind him.
Concrit is always welcome. Please let me know what you liked, what you didn’t like…did it make you cry? What didn’t work for you? Don’t be afraid. Let me have it. 😉