The Marriage Chapter

He vacuums. And vacuums, again and again. She reads her loaned hard cover novel on the second floor, shivering because of the cold. They do not kiss anymore, she thinks. Not kissing that counts.  We are a floor and a world away from each other, she thinks, as her feet freeze with the dropping temperatures, her fingers like icicles.

The dog lies at the end of the bed snoring soothingly. “Old Girl” she calls her now, trying to prepare herself for the latter years. You are never prepared for death, she knows, but you can try to become acquainted in a tiny mouse-like way for the future. That, she does and has down for years. Not that it helps.

There doesn’t have to be a gut-wrenching scene in a marriage when everything dissolves, it could be just one calm moment after another, it’s not even a dreary moment necessarily. It’s being together, alone. Some say there is nothing wrong with that and to an extent she agrees but back over her shoulder there is an elfish vixen with bright red hair whispering her name coyly. Teasing her, smiling at her, looking away and then back, but not always. It’s always been the game she loved; the challenge was the reward but most people didn’t even realize it. It’s the sultry looks, the eyelids that blink a moment too long that creates the chaos and the longing as well. You had to be in the game to know it; she knew it. She always knew it.

Like yesterday when they went to the ballpark, the three of them yelling and screaming, eating greasy popcorn and hot dogs glistening in oil laying in soft cradled buns, drinking Coke from humongous glasses with straws that jumped up and down. She just sat down, with her sunglasses hiding her face and cried wordlessly. She knew nobody would notice much less care. It had been like that for years and yes, she had let it happen. She did not want to be the one to shake things up, to go out of her routine and ruin their worlds,  their futures. She was not meant to destroy life but create it. Once you have created it, she thought rationally, you need to nurture it. It’s a lifetime job, not one that can change like a temporary assignment every five weeks or so. No, she knew they were all in this factory working together, doing their own jobs to make it work. To make what work you ask? “Family” she replied askance, wondering how one could not understand this immediately. It is not such a difficult concept, she thought, then turned her head down, hid it in her bright red circle scarf and asked herself again “what am I doing here?” A question that she never really answered….

* * * * * * * * * * *

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14 thoughts on “The Marriage Chapter

  1. I think it’s the start of something really awesome Laurie Lou! Something soo many women could relate to….I know I could for sure! Well you keep up that talent of yours!

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  2. Wow, this heart wrenching. In many ways….and I understand..parts of it.

    I miss the game, I miss it so much it hurts.

    I don’t have a child…but I thought I would by now…not my own child, but one I could lend a hand to, to help out for a while…for as long as it took for their parents to find their way, for them to be a family again…to be a part of our family…for days, months, years…possibly…for ever.

    You sound in pain, like you are going though the motions, just to keep your family together. I feel my parents did that for years, and I hated it. They had their routine, their lives, but…she seemed so sad, so lonely…she deserved more.

    So many days she was alone in that house. Doing what was expected, and when things were done, the soaps kept her company. Friends were few, and none she could really call on just to talk. Her confidant and best friend was her daughter. There is so much he never knew about her. The dreams that didn’t come true, the happiness we shared without him. did he ever feel left out…oh but he left us so long ago. He never let us in, not really.

    But I remember, when I was younger, the love they shared. The kisses, the stolen looks that I knew meant more than anything they could say. The special together time they would spend.
    It ended…slowly…I think…actually, I just remember it not being there any more.
    She gave up so much of her life, for family.

    Now she is gone, and her family is no longer. We barely speak, and only tolerate one another. (frankly, even that’s a bit too much for me.)

    I miss her terribly, but what I wish more than anything, was that she could have been happier. Could have experienced more of the things she wanted to. I wish more of her dreams would have come true.
    (I honestly believe, if she had been happier, her family would have been happier….perhaps closer…one never knows.) But we all loved her, that’s the one thing we had in common, seeing her happy would have made us all happy.

    with love to you my friend.
    wendy

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      • I’m glad to know it’s fictional.
        I hope you will consider carrying on the story.

        I’m sorry I misunderstood, and blurted out so much. looking back…omg…I had a lot come out there huh?

        it reminded me so much of my mom. But I tell you, my father would never have vacuumed! : )

        I’d love to talk.
        any time.
        w

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      • actually, it made ME anxious, knowing the story was out there. and, my husband who really never reads my blog, told me to sit down “to talk.” He WAS freaked out. I did put fiction on the tag but still, there are some similarities to real life. It happens. I’m not sure if I should continue or not, I think it’s coming from nowhere and it’s scaring me a bit! But, yes, he does vacuum and there was no baseball game so no crying and no sunglasses!!

        Warm wishes, Laurie https://hibernationnow.wordpress.com

        >________________________________

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      • one thing I noticed that made me think it may be a bit fictional.
        When at home the woman was cold…very cold. (I know part of that was to point out an emotion, not just physically cold, but I thought it was both.)
        then you went to a baseball game…and had your toes showing.
        not so cold any more.

        Wow, needed to “talk”, I’m impressed that he read it and wanted to talk about it.

        Sorry, I don’t normally read tags. I only use them to find things on people’s blogs…perhaps I SHOULD read them!

        email me any time, and we could IM or something sometime.

        It hurts me a bit because I know Stuart doesn’t mourn the fact that we can’t foster now. He says it disappoints him, but he’s more worried about me to even think about it. It’s sweet, but I think it would help me more if we were able to be on the same page about this.
        If this helps, we may become respite providers. (baby sitters for other foster parents.) but I don’t know if we will ever actually foster, if I get worse again, it’s not fair to a child, especially one coming from a damaged home. They don’t need to feel that their foster mom, who is supposed to take care of them, can’t take care of herself.

        Oh, I’m spilling again.

        I understand part of the story is fiction, but are you afraid it is heading toward being true?

        love to you my friend.
        wendy

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      • yeah well,
        you have read my blog right?
        I don’t hide much.
        I might not want my family to read some of what I wrote here, but they aren’t going to look at your blog.
        heck, they don’t care enough to look at mine.

        : )

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