We're Not Fifteen

She traced her thoughts on the frosted windowpane, barely noticing the artsy designs Father Frost left behind. Heart wrenching sorrow filled her eyes to the brim. She heard the familiar crunching of the snow as tires pressed the life out of it and the dying cough of his truck’s engine; she sent the sorrow back to its dwelling. Moments later, his boots made that annoying scratching sound on the welcome mat as he wiped them and the door opened. Perfect timing. She grimaced. He lightly kissed the top of her head and looked around the kitchen. She lightly pushed him away. “Where’s dinner?” he asked “There are leftovers in the fridge if you want them” “You were at home all day today” he accused. “I’m not a maidservant” He restrained a stream of bitter, bitter words and moved towards the stove to put the water on. “There’s something the matter with you as of late” “Like hell there is” “Can we please discuss your hysterics in a slightly adult fashion?” Her eyes threw darts of fire, dangerously smoldering but she did not say anything. She watched him make a pot of coffee. He carried it over along with two cups, setting one in front of her and one by his own spot; he poured her cup first and then his own. He sat and watched her hold onto the cup as if she were sinking.

“Did you ever love me, Jack?” “What? I love you” “Funny way you’ve got of showing it” “ I work twelve, sometimes fourteen damn hours to pay for this house, to be able to marry you. I don’t remember the last time I really slept. What the hell do you want from me? You’re the one who runs from my embraces. You’re at home lately and you can’t even take care of that” Her throat moved convulsively. “If marrying me is such an unpleasant task, maybe you should take your ring back... Yes, you work. You work so much because you’re trying to run away from me. Ever since that night…you’ve pushed me away, further and further. You come home. You mutter some distant words to me. You know, you have never even asked me how I feel…and then, we go to bed and you turn around without so much as a look at me, without so much as good night and fall asleep. We were best friends. We were like twin souls. What happened? After we…you know…I…could tell you regretted it…you wiped your hands clinically…as if…what we shared was unclean…as if you wanted to erase it…and you turned around and went to sleep, leaving me an island lonely in the sea. And when I realized I was with child...your reaction…I’ll never forget that look on your face…as if you were trapped in a nightmare…your distance…your mechanical proposal…your long hours at work…” “Did you expect me to rejoice? It was not something I was expecting” “Oh, don’t make me laugh, Jack, we’re not fifteen…we knew it could happen…you could have taken it like a man. You think I’m not frightened to death? I’ve got this …this alien growing in my belly and its doing strange things to my body…right now, I want nothing more than to drink this entire coffee pot but I can’t because that could possibly hurt the baby…I have to think twice before I do anything…but you didn’t even know about the coffee otherwise you wouldn’t have tempted me…and I wake up most of the time feeling like a huge, ugly blob…and the reason your house isn’t perfect is because for the past few days, I’ve been vomiting like my body is trying to get rid of my organs and apparently…this is normal, says my doctor…but you wouldn’t know because you haven’t been to a single appointment with me yet…and there’s a chance for us to see our baby via ultrasound and the doctor wanted to set a date that you could come…and I had to tell her it didn’t matter…so it’s next week and you probably don’t care but I’m telling you anyway…and it’s really unfair for you to be pointing out that I’m at home. I want to work, Jack. It’s not my fault that the doctor said my condition is too fragile to do the kind of work I do. You just keep running away from the situation, Jack…and I just…don’t know if I should marry you…” “You’re not an ugly blob” “I’m tired…I’m going to bed” “Good Night” “Good Night”

He sat stirring her words into the coffee. Her words tortured him. He understood their truth. He had been running away from her, from the child. He had been trying to drive himself into such a state of weariness that he would forget. It was impossible to forget. He had regretted. He had regretted. Did she regret it now? Did she regret giving herself to him? Did she regret her love? Could she forgive him? Could he be as she needed him to be? Did he love her as she deserved? He kept interrogating himself. I just…don’t know… if I should marry you…He repeated those words over and over, wondering if he could persuade her that all he had ever wanted was to marry her. Every day of their friendship, every day of their relationship, she had convinced him that she was the only woman he could ever want as a wife. Her sentiments, her actions showed that that was what she deserved. She deserved ultimate devotion. She was as perfect as he could stomach. He had behaved abominably.

He dragged himself up the stairs, not at all at ease. He poked his head into their bedroom doorway. She was lying in bed, still awake.“Is there any chance that you might forgive me?” “I forgave you some time ago” “But not enough to refrain from yelling at me” “You merited yelling at you” He knelt at her bedside and buried his face in her belly. He kissed it and buried his face again. “Now, you’re ultimately forgiven” “So, can you be persuaded to marry me?” “Probably” “How like a woman” “She chuckled “Well, I’ve got to make sure you reform…I can’t just jump into your arms and sing the happily ever after song”

 

 

Reviews

[E.H. Monroe]

She traced her thoughts on the frosted windowpane, barely noticing the artsy designs Father Frost left behind.-come on, and you wonder why I keep reading your stuff. This is the detail that I have grown to love in your work.
“Did you ever love me, Jack?”-the beginning of any good fight
The dialogue in it runs into each other and makes some of it confusing. The issue is played in both fantasy, some sci fi and a general growing up with the issue of jobs and no time to be home. The dim light in the kitchen and the pain of the “what’s wrong with us” makes ANYONE cringe. An alien? Meaning foreign? An actual Alien?
I’m intrigued and because you chopped it off, I wanna know more.
Get to work Ms. A.

Nicely done