For the Rest of My Life

A young man marries the wrong girl. He is so infatuated with finding a soul mate, he does not see how his choice will ultimately destroy him.

 

For the Rest of My Life

By Christian Ahern

 

As Rob pulled into her driveway, he patted the life-changing case in left pocket. He then cut the engine and just sat, motionless behind the wheel. fortherestofmylifefortherestofmylife whispered through his mind like the seething of wind through dry, dead leaves. “Ah, the hell with it”, he said as he yanked the door handle and stepped into the sharp dusk air. Once his mind was made up, making the journey to door became much easier. Ten quick strides, a knock and he was there.

FortherestofmylifefortherestofmylifefortherestofmylifeThe door opened and she was there.

“Hey, Vaness. You ready?” he said.

“Yea, just let me get my coat,” she said. 

“Ok, I’ll wait out here.”

Rob stood on the narrow concrete porch of Vanessa’s two-bedroom bungalow feeling as if he were helpless, caught in the gears of some relentless machine that carried him to the inevitable destination- marriage.  Rob took a deep breath of air, thinking (fortherestof) she loves me . . .I dunno, I just feel it.  He was suddenly aware of his hand gripping the velvet case in his pocket as if it were a reaffirmation of his decision.  A wave of fluttery nausea pancake flipped in his stomach a few times.  She’ll make me happy.  I know she will.  She’s just so-  kind.  And considerate. Yes.  Kind and considerate.  I think that’s why I love her so much. 

     She was standing in the doorway, watching him.  Rob ran both hands through his hair as he caught a flutter out of the corner of his eye.  His gaze darted to the open door. 

     “Holy s**t, Vanessa, you scared the hell outta me,” Rob said.  Vanessa’s head ducked and her shoulders shrugged as a furtive giggle pushed its way through her lips.

“I guess you think that’s funny”, Rob said, mocking sincerity.

“Sort of.  Well, just a little,” Vanessa said.

“You know I’m going to be mad unless I get what I want.”

“Your wish is my command,” Vanessa said.

     This is it, Rob.  Seize the opportunity. Get some balls for once in your life. Rob kneeled down, took Vanessa’s hand, and did it, all in one grand motion.

“Will you marry me, Vanessa?”  Rob said.

 

Yes.

2

 

Years later.

 

     A muffled, whiny cry was tapping on the shoulder of Rob’s subconscious. It was insistent like the nagging pressure in his lower bladder.  As his mind pierced through the gauzy haze of sleep, he said, “Honey, could you see if she’s all right?” 

No response.

“Vaness?” Again, nothing. Annoyed, Rob rolled over to see why the hell she wasn’t answering him.

     Vanessa was sitting with her back and neck ramrod strait like a manikin with good posture.  Her hands were rubbing and massaging her elbows in slow, deliberate motions. Rob could hear rapid, erratic, bursts of breath.  “Vanessa, what in God’s name is wrong with you? Don’t you hear Casy?” Rob said.  Nothing. He then touched her arm and she recoiled. 

“Fine. I’ll get her,” he said. 

     Rob then got up and headed for Casy’s room. She was standing in front of the security gate, arms outstretched whining, “Daddee, I want sleep in Mommy’s room.”

“OK sweetheart.  Shhhhhh.  Daddy’s here,” Rob said as he swept her up into his arms.  Casy knew the comforting, exhausting routine her father blessed her with when he came to her rescue.  This is my daddy, she thought. Daddy loves me . . .

 

“Why did you bring her in here?” Vanessa said.

     “Shhh. That’s OK baby,” Rob said as he laid Casy down and snugly wrapped her in the comforter. He then rubbed the small of her back until she was lulled into an untroubled sleep. Annoyance pulled his gaze from Casy to Vanessa.

“What are you doing?  What’s the matter with you, Vanessa? I asked you to see what was wrong with your daughter and you sit there like a statue. And then you ask me why I’m bringing her in?  Why the hell do you think?” Rob hissed.

“I don’t know.  . . she. . she’s pulling you away from me, Rob,” Vanessa said.

“What are you talking about? She’s our daughter, for Christ sake,” he answered.

“She seems like YOUR daughter to me.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Lower your voice. You’ll wake her up.”

“I DON’T GIVE A S**T IF I WAKE HER UP. YOU LISTEN TO ME!!”

     Rob felt a jolt shock Casy’s body as he looked down into a face plagued with the silent scream of hurt.  Casy began to wail. Rob snatched her up, shot a vehement glare at his wife as he stomped out of the bedroom. What just happened? He thought.  “Shhhhh. . . it’s ok honey, Daddy’s here”.  Hate. That’s what happened. Didn’t you see it her eyes? Hear it in her voice?  Frightened shrieks subsided into uncontrollable sobs like a tired motor refusing to quit after the final turning of the key. 

“Ma . . ma . .mommy, Daddy,” Casy said.

     “Mommy’s all right, sweetheart. Shhhhhh”.  Rob gently laid her in her Pooh bed as she curled into a fetal ball, eyes half-lidded, drifting.   Rob covered Casy with her “blanky” and began to creep out of the room, fumed in curiosity and outrage. She better have a good God damn reason for this.

 

                                                           

3

 

He better listen to me.

why should he?

Because I’m his wife.

He’ll listen to her. He always listens to her.  She’ll tell him to stay away. She steals his time with you.  He’ll be sleeping with her next.

Yea, I guess he will.  Sooner or later he will.  Did you see how he looked at her?  He used to look at me that way. 

Not anymore, toots.  You were just the host to that little manipulative parasite. She took it from you.  She sucked and sucked and sucked until you were dry, a dead curled up leaf.

I don’t want to be dead.  He can make me alive.  He can give me water in my roots to make me grow again.

Casy?

Oh, she’ll get hers.  Don’t you worry.  When the little b***h least expects it.

 

 

 

4

 

Rob swung open the bedroom door as Vanessa’s head jerked up to meet his eyes. Once in the door, Rob immediately began the interrogation through clenched teeth.

“What is wrong with you?  Why in hell would you talk like that in front of the baby?  Well? Are you gonna answer me or what?” Rob said.

“It’s her,” she said.

“WHAT?”

“It’s her.”

“I don’t know what you talking about.”

     Vanessa’s right elbow rose and fell like a rhythmic piston as her fist pounded her left forearm.  Rob heard, “her, her, her,” in savage grunts, rising in intensity with each blow.  He leaped into the bed, grabbed both arms and said, “Vanessa . .Vanessa! stop it. . . stop it now!”  Grunts became sobs.  He could feel her strength wane.  He cradled his arm around her back and began to gently rock her.  Slowly (oh ever so slowly) her sobs subsided to silence.  I can’t believe she just did that.  She went totally batshit mental.  Something’s not right.  Something’s not right at all.  After about twenty minutes (or twenty hours; he couldn’t tell which), Rob eased Vanessa onto her pillow.  Her breathing took on that familiar tone of uncorrupted sleep.  He then slid under the covers, wide awake, not understanding a damn thing about what just happened. 

 

                                                               

 

5

 

     Saturday mornings usually meant sleeping late, rising to the smell of bacon, and sipping hot coffee while chatting over the day’s events.  This Saturday was different.  Rob was slapped out of sleep by the slamming gong of the dryer door followed by a pissed off, exasperated sigh. He sat up and peeked a glance at the digital.  5:30. What is she doing? He thought.  Rob couldn’t decide whether to go back to sleep (oh it would be so easy) or go save the world by listening to his wife b***h. Last night’s tirade was by far the worst.  Her nights have gotten more and more restless and he supposed that maybe she was so irritable because of little or no sleep.  But hasn’t her frustration and anger been more focused, more directed? At who, stupid? “At me I guess”, he said out loud.  But last night took a new turn, oh yes. You could hear the hate in her voice, all that rage focused on Casy. She hurt her and you know it. You saw it in Casy’s eyes-----you let it happen.

Bullshit.

Okay, maybe.  But can you afford to take it as bullshit?  What if she really hurts Casy?

Good point.

     The angle of reason wins again. Rob put on his shorts and tee shirt (oh God. . . here we go) as he stomped through the bedroom and into the hall.  He pushed back the laundry door. 

There she was.

“Vanessa?  How ya feeling?”

Back turned, head slowly lifting, rigid, “tired.”

     “Well, why don’t you get some sleep?  I’ll finish the wash,” he said.  Why doesn’t she just go and leave? Sweep her out of the room and last night under the rug.

“I know you would until she wakes up and says ‘daddy . . .daddy . . . daddy’.”  Vanessa turned and fixed her unblinking eyes on Rob. “What do you think I am stupid? You don’t think I see? You talk to me with that soothing, a*s kissing voice, trying to gull me with your bullshit sympathy. All the while you’re making your move to be with Casy. GOD!” Vanessa said.

“Are you accusing me of being a good father?” Rob said, coming closer.

“I’m accuuuusing you of being a bad husband.”

     “Don’t mock me. Every time you’ve needed me, I’ve been there. Only thing I want to do is make you happy and now all of a sudden you throw this in my face?  What the hell did I do?  Tell me. What did I do?” Rob said.  Vanessa’s eyes widened and shifted in rapid jerks like an exposed liar, trapped. 

“Well?” Rob said.

“She’s there,” Vanessa whispered.

“What?” he said.

“SHE’S THERE!”

     Rob followed her gaze to the open door where Casy stood bewildered with her blanky in one hand and dolly in the other. Rob immediately sprang into action.  Vanessa at that moment did not exist. He turned his back and moved toward his daughter. 

“Heeey, honey.  Good morning. Did you have a good sleepeez?  Daddy missed you this morn. . .”

“Aaahhhhhh!!!”

     Rob’s back was shoved into the faucet sticking out of the water heater.  Raging lunacy sped past him as a shot of white pain flashed between his ribs.  Casy. Oh God Casy.

Vanessa clutched Casy’s collar, raking the skin. “Mommeeee!! I’m sorry mommy!!”

“Too late. Too late you husband stealing b***h!  Take your medicine!” Vanessa screamed.

     An open palm clapped Casy’s cheek with brute force.  Fear and hurt pushed from Casy’s diaphragm in an ear-piercing scream.

     “How did that feel, Huh? Did it hurt?” Vanessa said. She raised her hand for another blow. Rob’s clutching vice grabbed it mid-air.  The animal that was his wife began claw and tear at his face and neck.  Rob took hold of the other hand as he shouted, “Vanessa! Vanessa!”

     She didn’t hear.  Red rage silenced that whisper of reason that holds it all together. She wanted to get out. She wanted to get loose. She wanted to shut that little b***h up.  With the speed of a cobra, Vanessa’s teeth clenched down on the soft, meaty skin at the top of Rob’s forearm. He could feel the skin ripping like stubborn fat being torn from the steak. 

     He screamed and let her go.  Vanessa then turned her attention to better business.  The b***h. As she was about to shut her up for good, Rob snatched the fireplace poker and arched it across her lower back. A hammering pain shot from her left kidney and she stumbled to the floor. 

     This is my chance, Rob thought. He picked Casy up and ran for the door.  Oh s**t, the keys. He doubled back down the hallway to the kitchen. There they are.  He snatched the keys (da . . . .da. . daddy.  Mommy’s hurt) and ran through the front door as he glanced at the crumpled moaning mess on the carpet.

 

6

“Hello?”

“Mr. Bauer?”

“Yes?” Rob said.

“This is Dr. Holland from Memorial Psychiatric Hospital.”

“Yes.”

“I know this may sound imprudent but we would like you to be present during your wife’s first monthly evaluative session.”

“Why?”

“Well, considering where and when the onset of her illness occurred, we seem to think that your presence may have some therapeutic value.”

An impatient pause was followed by an exasperated sigh.

“Listen Dr.  Holland, I just barely began to heal from the chunk of flesh she dug out of my arm let alone the emotional trauma inflicted on both Casy and me.  I . . . just don’t see how that would do any of us any good.”  Anger smoldered and then caught flame. “If I did come down there, the only thing I’d tell her is how Casy blames herself for mommy being taken away, how I have to rock her to sleep every goddam night because she hurt her mommy and made the men come and take her away.”

“Please, Mr. Bauer . . .”

“So don’t feed me that theraputic value bullshit.  Just make sure you keep her away from me and my daughter.  Do you understand?” Rob said.  White knuckles gripped the phone as he waited for a response.

“I understand Mr. Bauer.”

“Good.”

Click.

Sadness and frustration mushroomed from his gut and wedged in his throat.  Why can’t she just go away?  Every time Rob tried to push her into some dirty corner of his mind, someone or something would just stir the muck until it was too cloudy to see, to understand what in God’s name he was going to do next.

Rob’s face fell into his hands as a slow exhale was released. Suddenly, he felt alone.

Very alone.

   

   

7

 

     She’ll be fine.  She’s at your sister’s for God’s sake. How could she be anything else but fine? Rob thought.  Wind drove into his face as he made his way home down route 55.  Pine and oak drifted past him with little or no notice. Home? Helluva home since he hasn’t been there since that crazy b***h’s sanity snapped like a dried twig.  He couldn’t stand bringing he and Casy back to a place where the safety and comfort he built was shattered as if it were a fine china plate being smashed against granite. But, why can’t he pick the pieces up?  Mold it into something new, something he and Casy could cherish.  Why not?  He guessed this was the first step.  Go home, make a cup of tea and relax, see if there are any monsters creeping around corners. 

     Rob pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. For a moment, he just sat there, motionless.  A mower droned far away as if it were encased in cotton.  Leopard patterns of sun and shade swayed their dreamy dance as he breathed in spring’s aroma. 

“This is gonna be okay,” he whispered. 

     Rob walked down the gravel path, eyes fixed on the front door. Excitement started to build and he felt like a kid returning home from a disastrous vacation mostly spent in the car.  Home.

     As Rob turned the key and stepped into the foyer, he paused.  Cilia like hairs pricked and tingled on the back of his neck. Something’s not right whispered on the fringe of conscious thought and was dismissed.  Rob shuffled into the kitchen, turned on the kettle and sat down on the living room sofa. A pushed “aahhhh” escaped from his slightly parted lips as the curved back of the sofa eased the crook of his neck. “No ghosts here”, he said as he snapped back to life and clicked on the TV.  Steve Lorry had an exclusive “News Eight” special report.  Three patients from the Memorial Psychiatric Hospital escaped early this evening.  Two have already been apprehended by local authorities at a nearby convenience store.  However, the police are still on the lookout. . . .

 

that smell

for Vanessa. . .

that body wash she always used to

Bauer, age 33, five nine with light brown hair and green eyes.  If you see this . . .

footsteps. upstairs. coming down the hall.

 

The TV suddenly became in imperceptible drone.  All of Rob’s concentration was focused on the weak creaks he heard overhead. Two. Maybe Three. He wasn’t sure.  He eased himself (straining to hear, trying to convince himself that it was nothing at all nothing at all just the house settling) out of the sofa and turned off the television.  Rob could hear the tick tick tick of the mock grandfather clock she and Vanessa bought at Sears when they were married. 

      vvrriiimp

     “There it is again”, Rob whispered.  He heard it. He knew he did.  It was like a carpenter’s nail being yanked out of plank, only muffled.  Rob eased his way out from behind the coffee table and began to walk toward the steps on the other side of the kitchen, trying to stay calm. 

     His pulse thumped in his head as he focused completely on the front door.  Almost there.  A high pitched whistle sent a shock through every nerve fiber while simultaneously shriveling up his scrotum and cramping his bowels.

 “Ah, s**t, the tea,” Rob said.  He stepped over to the stove and turned knob to “off”.

that smell again

 

     As his head turned, Rob saw a flash of silver and a bone white fist drive seething hot pain into his neck. He stumbled and fell between the corner cabinets with hilt of the carving knife sticking out of his right trapezoid.  Dark blood began to saturate his sweatshirt like a paper towel soaking up a spill of berry berry Kool-Aid.

fortherestofmylifefortherestofmylife

     Waves of pain pulsed through the whole upper right side of his body.  Rob’s breathing became shallow pants fraught with stabs of pain in his chest like someone was jabbing the inside of his lung with a sewing needle.

 A chuckle, low, barely perceptible.  Rob forced his eyes to open (jab, jab, jab).

     Vanessa was standing in front of him in her hospital gown.  Scrapes and abrasions littered her bare legs and feet.   Her hands were clasped together under her chin like a young girl in a confessional.  The corners of her mouth turned up slightly under those eyes, those brown eyes turned almost black. 

fortherestofmylifefortherestormy

“You had to choose, Rob.  You chose her. She took my life away from you.  Now I took yours.  Isn’t life grand?” She said.

     Those eyes never blinked, never flinched. 

It was starting to fade. Picture was starting to fade (jab, jab, jab).

 

     Rob closed his eyes and thought of Casy.  “I love her. Please God, don’t take me away from her,” he thought.  Moments of joy and sadness flashed through his mind. Please.  She needs me.  

No one answered him. 

I loved Vanessa (fading, now, it’s not so bad).  She was so kind.

So considerate.

And now it was

 

The end.

 

His world faded to black.

 

 

THE END