Wednesday, September 22, 2010


I need to wash the patio furniture, Violet thought, looking out her french doors. She cradled her elbow with one hand while gripping the opposite shoulder with the other, and stared mindlessly into the shrubery. The tile was chilling her toes but she was too numb to notice. I need to do the dishes, she thought and turned towards the kitchen. She stood over the sink, but instead of plugging the drain and pouring the soap, she just stood with her head bent over the porcealin. A heaviness came upon her chest and her throat tightened. What I really need to do is get his shirts to the cleaners, she thought, and she went to the closet and grabbed all of his dress shirts and slipped on her shoes. Before opening the door to the garage, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She then turned to see the rest of her unkept house. A sadness overwhelmed her and the sound of her keys hitting the hardwood, echoed in the aches of her mind.
Her husband walked in the door at 6:15, but she didn't greet him. He didn't smell the pleasing aroma of dinner or look around to find all that he provided well taken care of. He walked in the door to a dark house and tripped over a pair of shoes in the entryway. He switched the lights as he entered each room and found his Violet asleep on the couch. Sitting down on its cushion, he placed her legs over his lap, covering them with a blanket.
Violet woke up to Liam twisting her wedding ring, and withdrew her hand from his. Her chest ached and she turned her face into the cushion of the couch. Tears moistened the fabric while she felt her hair being gently combed with his fingers. "Violet, what's wrong?" He asked, very confused.
She contined to cry, unable to give an answer. There was nothing she could say. It wasn't that she burned dinner; she hadn't even prepared one. It wasn't that there were paw prints on her mopped floors; she didn't even know how to mop. It wasn't that she felt fat; she had stayed in pajama pants all day. It was that she woke up this morning with every intention of being a good wife, but before she could even brush her hair she looked into the mirror and realized she wasn't a little girl anymore. The little bit of added weight to her left finger meant things would never be the same, like birthdays and holidays. It wasn't just that her last name wasn't Brandon anymore, it was that she wasn't a Brandon anymore. She wouldn't sit in the kitchen and talk to her mom while she made dinner, she would now stand in the kitchen in silence and make dinner. Today she realized that when her father handed her over in marriage, he handed her over in life as well. She would no longer go to him with her problems, she was now to go to Liam. She had fallen madly in love, but now she was terribly homesick as the thought of being a wife overwhelmed her. "I'm just not prepared," she cried into the cushion of the couch. Liam, who was confused and unprepared as well, lifted her up into his arms, where she rested and cried.
Rebecca Houston

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