Beyond This Window
…is a whole world, waiting…Archive for Short Story
Dead
It’s six in the morning. I don’t sleep well, at least not lately. I can’t remember the last time I got more than four hours of sleep. Most people are restless because they’re anxious. I suppose my lack of sleep can be justified as anxiety too; today especially.
My husband is still asleep. I should still be asleep. I can’t sleep.
Our marriage; it’s dead now. We’ve tried for so long – we tried so hard. Years of patience, therapy, doctors, money, tears, fake smiles, and prayer. Gone. Lost. Dead.
We tried.
Did I do enough? I listened to the doctors. I am sure I followed their instructions. Did I get it wrong? Could I have done more? I tried so hard – I tried for so long. I’m tired.
My mind is fuzzy. I feel as though my words aren’t coming out quite the way I want them to. I’m tried. I want to stop trying. I want to sleep. I want it to be done, to be over.
It is done. It is over. Our marriage; it’s dead now.
I’m broken. They told me it’s not my fault. It is. I should have done more. If only I’d worked harder. I should have seen this coming. I knew this would be a problem. I put it off for too long. It’s too late now. It’s over.
I hear children outside. They stand at the street corner waiting for the school bus. I want to cry.
I don’t want to cry. I’ve cried too much. I can’t ask why me. I can’t blame anyone. It’s my fault. I just didn’t do enough. I couldn’t do and be everything my husband needed. That’s on me.
I need to do this for him. He will understand. He’ll be grateful. If I can’t give him what he needs, I need to give him this.
He found her. Someone who could be what I couldn’t. Someone who could do what I couldn’t. He’s with her. They’ll be happy. He’ll be good to her. A perfect family. I’ll be gone, lost, dead. Dead without him. Our marriage; it’s dead now.
I see a young girl, a teenager, waddling to the street corner. Her pregnant belly, a reminder.
I place my hand on my husband’s back, gently. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me.
“I want a divorce.” Our marriage; it’s dead now, and Hope died with it.
Untitled
Anita sat and scrutinized the young woman that stared back from the mirror. Her hair was twirled up into a tight twist as wisps of hair cascaded over her ears and brushed her shoulders. Sprigs of baby’s breath and lavender were strategically tucked into her hair and her face had been patted, buffed, and painted like a beautiful picture. She hardly recognized the girl that stared back. Her eyes, bright and green, glistened with tears as she stood. Today she would marry her knight in shining armor. Today she would become Mrs. Derek Miller.
She stood and turned like a ballerina in a music box toward the silken gown that hung behind the bedroom door. As she stepped toward the lily white dress, she felt butterflies which fluttered in her stomach. It had been eighteen long months since she had seen him. Anita glanced at the clock and wondered what he would be doing now. Derek had come home yesterday and spent the night with his friends, enjoying that last day of bachelorhood.
Today, as she walked down the aisle, would be the first time they would have seen each other in a year and a half. Just the thought of finally seeing him again, spending their first night together in their new home, and marrying him all in one fell swoop, sent a warming glow over her.
As she lifted her hand to touch the soft fabric of the skirt, the door swung open. Vanessa bounded through the door energetically. “You’re not dressed yet?”
“Oh, um,” Anita glanced down at her old college t-shirt and shorts. “I was just thinking. I guess I lost track of time.”
Vanessa bustled toward the bed to retrieve the bridal undergarments and eyed her friend uneasily. “You’re not getting cold feet are you?”
Anita slipped out of her t-shirt and took the bra and underwear her maid of honor was holding. “Of course not. I was just thinking about Derek. Have you seen him yet?”
“No, but I haven’t really looked for him either. I’ve been making sure everything else is all set.” She stood behind Anita, she began to hook and tie the bra together.
While Vanessa tugged and squished into what Anita could only think of the world’s most uncomfortable corset, she thought of the last time she saw him, held him, kissed him.
Derek had finally come home from basic training, and he announced that his first tour would be in Iraq. Anita’s heart broke. She had heard the stories, seen friends come back damaged, broken. She did not want that for him. It was then, as burning tears freed themselves from her tightly shut eyes that he took her hand. He kissed her tear-streaked cheek and whispered in her ear how much he loved her. The tears came more violently.
“Anita,” he had said quietly. “I love you. I said it when we were ten and playing in the park; and I’ll say it again, ‘I want to marry you.’ You are everything to me. In ten years, I see us sitting in a car watching proudly as our son goes off to his first day of school. In five years, I see us standing in front of our friends and family as we announce the start of our own family. In a year and a half, I see us in my parent’s back yard professing our love for each other and making vows to cherish one another for the rest of our lives.” He squeezed her hand gently and knelt before her in his crisp white uniform. “All I need to know, Anita, is will you grow old with me? Will you raise children with me? Will you promise to love me forever? Will you wait for me; and when I come home in eighteen months, will you marry me?”
The following moments were filled, not with tears of sadness, but of joy. Anita, left speechless, merely embraced her fiancé as wedding plans began to dance through her head.
“Ready for the dress?”
Anita blinked once, then twice, and snapped back to the present. “Yes,” she answered grinning widely. “I’m ready.”
She stepped into the sleek strapless dress. The sides hugged her hour-glass shaped body as Vanessa zipped and buttoned the back together. The bottom of the dress was covered in intricate beading that lessened as it headed further up toward her thighs. The top was secured with a lavender colored ribbon that matched the bridesmaids’ dresses. Anita stared straight ahead at the mirror as she realized that this is what she would look like the first time Derek would see her in a year and a half. Suddenly she turned, panic apparent in her olive eyes.
“Vee, do I look okay? My hair, is it too much? Is the dress too plain? What if he hates it?”
Vanessa embraced her friend tightly and laughed. “Sweetie, you look wonderful, and it wouldn’t matter if you went out there in your shirt and shorts. He’d marry you anyway.”
Anita stepped back and nodded. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
With a smile, Vanessa handed her the veil. “I’ll leave you a few minutes while I check on some last minute things, okay?” Anita nodded again and took the seat in front of the vanity.
Closing her eyes, she could see the future unfolding before her. In merely an hour, she would walk down stair, over the plush ivory carpet toward the back patio. There, at the back door, she would begin her wedding procession. She would walk slowly across the patio and into the garden where her knight, her love, her husband would be waiting. Standing neatly in attention, Derek would be in his crisp white uniform beside the pastor, beyond the folding chairs left empty as their friends and family rise to their feet at her arrival.
They would stand before friends and family and repeat timeless vows to love and cherish each other forever. His hands, strong yet gentle would envelop hers as he slid a golden band over her finger, a band that would never leave her hand. His mouth would crush hers as they kissed for the first time as husband and wife. Walking hand in hand, they would be presented to the world as Mr. and Mrs. Derek Miller.
“Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” the names that would be on their future children’s birth certificates, on notes home from teachers, on the deed to their first home together, and on their children’s wedding announcements. Their future stood ahead of them, awaiting this first step.
In the distance, she heard a car door slam shut and a smile spread over her face. Derek had arrived. With a glance at the clock, she rolled her eyes. She had made his friend Kevin promise to get him here on time, and as usual, he was late. Standing, she smoothed her dress and checked herself in the mirror before pinning the veil to her hair. She fluffed the veil making sure it fell over her shoulder and face in just the right way. With a sigh, she slipped her feet into her shoes. “I suppose this is it.”
She moved toward the door, her dress swished with every step. As she reached for the knob, the door swung open and Vanessa appeared.
“He’s here, right?” Anita asked. “I was so worried that Kevin would be too late in bringing him. I know that I had-“
“Annie,” Vanessa said quietly.
“What? Is he hung over? Did Kevin get him smashed last night?”
Vanessa took her friend’s hand and squeezed. Anita laughed. It would be just like Vanessa and Derek to pull some kind of last minute surprise for her. They had once convinced her that her apartment had been flooded only to have thrown her a birthday party; but as Anita walked through the bedroom door, she knew it was no party.
As she rounded the corner, with Vanessa in tow; Mrs. Miller trudged down the hallway, two men stood over her, a letter crumpled and wet in her trembling hand. Mrs. Miller stopped as her eyes met Anita’s. Hesitantly, she looked at the wrinkled paper clutched in her hand then back at her son’s bride. With a small, hardly noticeable shake, she confirmed the worst for Anita.
Anita’s ears began to ring, and she felt the entire world shrinking around her, stifling, suffocating. Her knees gave and she clung to the doorway for support. Her eyes blurred with burning tears and she felt her chest tightening with each sob-laden breath. Jaw clenched, she dropped to her knees, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as images of their future together flooded her mind then shattered frame by frame.
She sat, sobbed, and mourned the loss of a future that would never be.
Cinderella
A/N:
I wrote this when I was 12 years old. Oh, wow, that was 1o years ago. Yeah, there’s some perspective on the crazy angsty time that was from.
She walked into her bedroom and lay down on her bed. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow slowly down her cheeks, soaking the pillow pressed softly against her cheek. She wished she knew a way to express her feelings, a way to tell people how she felt when they asked her. Things just never seemed to come out right. Things never really seemed right.
She had never felt so alone; but more than alone, she’d never felt so lonely. She had everything a girl would want. She had great friends that she knew were true and would be there for her if she ever needed them, her parents cared about her, and she had the love of a wonderful guy. She loved him in return. They had great aspirations of being together some day. Yet, knowing how much he cared for her and knowing how far away he was, gave her no comfort.
There was a deep emptiness inside her. This emptiness grew and ate at her from the inside out. She had become a wonderful pretender. All those days playing “make-believe” with childhood friends payed off. She pretended that everything was great and ok. She did a great job of convincing everyone. Still, that emptiness slowly consumed her until she could no longer hide it. Now people look at her and see that some thing’s not quite right. They can’t see the pain or the sorrow. All they see is a girl that never quite seems happy. No one knows why. Maybe no one cares.
She clutched the pillow as the hot tears stung her cheeks. Her stomach ached, and she almost felt her food reverse its path. The sobs became uncontrollable. Her lips quivering, hands shaking, nose running. She wanted the pain to stop. She wanted to fill the emptiness. She wanted to stop the lies. Without him, she never felt like she knew who she was. When she was with him, she was his great love. She was the girl that would do anything for him; but without him, who was she? Her world felt as if it revolved around him. It was as if she clung to him. He was her life line; without him, she would sink to the bottom. Yet somehow, she felt heartbroken and desperate. She needed something no one else could give her. She didn’t know what it was, and perhaps she never would.
Pain was the story of her life. That’s what she was use to it, and somehow she always got over it. And that’s what she would do now. She sat up, dried her tears, and waited for the next challenge to come her way. She convinced herself that in the end, things would be okay. She was Cinderella. One day, she’d have her happily ever after.
Little Bunny – Hopes
Little Bunny, two years old, just finished her bath. She climbs out of the tub, grasping the sides to keep from slipping, and finds Mommy waiting with a towel spread over outstretched arms. Mommy scoops her in her arms as the baby runs, well waddles, toward her. The towel feels soft and warm, as Little Bunny begins to shiver from the wet. She feels Mommy’s arms hug her tighter and rub the towel slightly against her slicked skin.
Mommy laughs as she pulls up the towel and plops it onto Little Bunny’s head. She ruffles the towel covering Little Bunny’s hair as Little Bunny giggles and undulates with the drying movements. Mommy quickly picks up the edge of the towel covering Little Bunny’s eyes and smiles. She covers Little Bunny’s eyes and peeks under the towel once more. Little Bunny erupts into fits of laughter at the silly game.
While Little Bunny rubs the towel over her arms and legs, Mommy reaches for Little Bunny’s favorite pajamas. The green pjs are trimmed in Little Bunny’s favorite shade of purple and thoughtfully dotted with images of Thumper, the rabbit from Bambi. Little Bunny hops toward her one piece pajamas and squeezes her feet into the slipper-like end. She likes to get dressed by herself, but she always needs Mommy’s help zipping up. Mommy grabs a hold of the zipper and looks at Little Bunny, waiting for the magic word. Zzzziiiippp. The zipper comes up an inch. Zip. Zip. Zip. Zip. Zip. All the way to the top.
After snatching the brush from the drawer, Little Bunny and Mommy walk hand-in-hand to the bedroom. Together, they plop onto the bed. Little Bunny immediately begins to discuss the books they would read that night while Mommy runs the brush through her daughters soft tufts of black hair. Little Bunny wants to hear about Precious, the puppy, and Connor, the teddy bear.
Little Bunny – Memory
Little Bunny, three years old, opens her eyes one bright sunny morning. She looks around her small one-room house and finds it empty. The bed she shares with her papa is bare, except for herself; the small, dual dial television is turned off, and the sun is beaming through the closed shutters. She runs outside excitedly hoping to find Papa, but the street bustle with neighbors and other, older children; his cycle gone, as it usually is when he has gone to work. Tears spring to her eyes, as she wanders back inside. The room seems bigger. She does not see the bright sun coming through the shutters now, only dark shadows creeping through the room. She runs back to the bed and hugs the pillow to her.
Why did Papa leave without her? He always took her on his delivery trips. Did she do something bad? Did she ask for too many things when they were out? He told her that they didn’t have money for toys and snacks. Maybe she asked for too much last time. Maybe he didn’t want to take her any more.
Little Bunny is afraid to close her eyes. She heard the stories of little boys and girls being taken. She could not wander outside without Papa knowing where she goes. With Papa gone, anyone might be able to come into the house to take her. She has to make sure that no one steals anything from their home and that she fights if someone comes for her.
The day seems to drag. She does not know how long it has been. It feels like hours. The sun is not as bright anymore. Rain starts to patter on the metal roof. She likes the rain. Slowly, she creeps toward the door and opens it. Maybe Papa knew it was going to rain, and he would be right outside. He would not leave her at home alone in a storm.
She opens the door a crack. The rain bounces against the dirty ground outside and into the house. She peers around the open door and sees the neighbors running with newspapers over their heads into the shelter of their homes and stores with their shutters propped open like awnings. Papa is nowhere to be found.
Little Bunny feels her spirit fall again. Maybe he is just around the corner. He could be on his way home. She knows the neighborhood. She knows his delivery route. Maybe if she walks down the streets he would take on his way home, she would find him. She smiles slightly to herself thinking of how happy he would be to see her, how proud he would be of her to know that she is brave. He would want to take her on his deliveries again. He would know she could be good and useful, knowing where the turns are.
She closes the door behind her and begins to walk down to the end of the street. She looks back toward the house one more time before turning right down another street. The rain grows heavier, and she can feel it swishing between her toes and slipping around her sapatos. She passes her friend’s house as she turns another corner. Street after street, turn after turn, she looks for Papa. Nowhere.
She stops and looks up and down the dirt street, now flooding with murky water, realizing suddenly that nothing looks familiar. Did she turn left or right at the last corner? She walks back to corner and looks right, then left. Neither side looks right. She does not remember having been here before. She does not remember that street on Papa’s route.
Panic-stricken, she begins to wade down the street, tears streaming down her face. Maybe if she shouts for him, he will hear her. He will come. He would not leave her alone in a storm.
She begins to shout, her cries mingling with words. Papa! People dash around her, making their way home. Papa! No one comes. She continues to walk down one street, then another. Lightning strikes followed by a loud crash of thunder.
Little Bunny freezes in fear and wails. Tears flow heavier than the rain, as she realizes she is lost. She cannot find Papa, and now she cannot even find her way home. A Lola comes and takes her by the shoulders. She asks where she lives. The tears are coming too heavily to answer, Little Bunny simply cries. Lola takes her by the hand and begins to walk toward her own house.
Suddenly, as if answering her cries, Papa comes running around a corner, and takes her up in his arms. He came home to find her gone. He was worried. He was looking for her. She is safe in his arms now.
