My Everything
She’s smiling at me again. It’s funny how just the slightest upturn of her mouth still makes my heart skip a beat. She walks across the room and enters the kitchen, my eyes follow her. I wish I could read her mind, know what she’s thinking about, then perhaps I could understand. I don’t understand this woman. I thought I did, but not now. She isn’t the same person I fell in love with, she isn’t my wife. Perhaps an alien abducted my real wife and put a robotic facsimile in her place…I’d like to believe that. That would mean that she is still out there somewhere…that she still loves me. Shit, she sees me looking at her and I forgot to wipe that tear away. Perhaps she won’t see it. Nope, she’s coming over. She’s rubbing my head and telling me that it’s all going to be okay. Now I’m crying harder than before.
There’s so many changes that I’ve made in my life for this woman…things that I would’ve never attempted without her. I graduated college, became a military officer, and became a pretty decent human being in the process…all for her. Her words when I came home…those awful words that not only told me that I wasn’t enough for her and never would be, but that I’d spent the last four years of my life for nothing. Open marriage…what the fuck does that mean? She acts like I should understand how she feels, which is the most confusing thing of all. She is my life, my everything, and now I’m being told that I’m basically nothing to her; being made to feel guilty because I love her and want her to love me in return.
I smile at her and tell her that I’m okay…I just need some time to adjust. It’s a lie of course. I could never adjust to knowing that my wife is out seeking pleasures from other men. I could never adjust to her telling me to do the same thing with other women. Maybe a few years ago, when we were still new, I could’ve come to terms with this new lifestyle, but now…never. I would rather die than to be home alone, knowing that she was with someone else; their hands all over her…fuck! Die…now there’s an idea. She’s in the other room …I can hear her humming with her headphones on…those goddamn things she uses to block me out.
My first thought, when she told me what she wanted was, who is he? I didn’t dare ask it aloud. She would’ve scoffed at me and cried and I would’ve just felt like an ass because I accused her of something outright. Where I have the problem is making a distinction in my heart about cheating, and planning to cheat. She makes it sound like she isn’t looking to cheat, just wants the option available if she chooses. What’s the difference really? Why can’t she be a normal person and cheat behind my back? Why do I have to know it’s coming? Am I being punished?
I tilt back my wine glass and taste the bitterness of the warm liquid on the back of my tongue. It’s beginning to do its job. My legs and arms are beginning to feel light. In the kitchen, I pull the wine bottle off of the counter and recharge my glass…hold the bottle opening over the glass as the last few remaining drops of dark red blissfulness trickles in. How can she act so nonchalant about all this? I wonder as I tilt back the wine glass and empty it in one, long stream of swallow. That did it, my head feels lighter than my arms and legs now. I’m thoroughly numb…it’s time.
I walk over to the drawer where she keeps the large knives, the one I’m looking for is right on top; a large number with a serrated blade. I don’t just want to slice through the meat, I want to destroy it, render it irreparable. I pull the large knife out of the drawer and position myself in the center of the kitchen. I can hear her walking down the hallway, coming back toward the living room, back toward the open kitchen. Just as she turns the corner, I raise the blade to the side of my neck; press down as hard as I can, pull back as fast as I can. The pain is extreme, but short lived. As the blade moves away from me, the only sensations I feel is wetness, and a little cold. My body loses that weightless feeling and quickly becomes too heavy to support with my legs. I collapse to the floor just as she notices me. She lets out a small, surprised scream and rushes to the kitchen entrance. I look up at her beautiful, surprised face, and smile. You’re going to have to live with this, I think. The surprised look is disappearing from her face now, being replaced by something else… grief maybe…disappointment?
“What the hell are you thinking?” She says. “Who do you think is going to have to clean that mess up?”
She doesn’t move away from the entrance, but her form is becoming blurry to me. Before she fades out completely, I catch what looks like a dim smile. I’ll be dead in a few seconds and she’ll be left with the mess…I sure showed her…
There’s so many changes that I’ve made in my life for this woman…things that I would’ve never attempted without her. I graduated college, became a military officer, and became a pretty decent human being in the process…all for her. Her words when I came home…those awful words that not only told me that I wasn’t enough for her and never would be, but that I’d spent the last four years of my life for nothing. Open marriage…what the fuck does that mean? She acts like I should understand how she feels, which is the most confusing thing of all. She is my life, my everything, and now I’m being told that I’m basically nothing to her; being made to feel guilty because I love her and want her to love me in return.
I smile at her and tell her that I’m okay…I just need some time to adjust. It’s a lie of course. I could never adjust to knowing that my wife is out seeking pleasures from other men. I could never adjust to her telling me to do the same thing with other women. Maybe a few years ago, when we were still new, I could’ve come to terms with this new lifestyle, but now…never. I would rather die than to be home alone, knowing that she was with someone else; their hands all over her…fuck! Die…now there’s an idea. She’s in the other room …I can hear her humming with her headphones on…those goddamn things she uses to block me out.
My first thought, when she told me what she wanted was, who is he? I didn’t dare ask it aloud. She would’ve scoffed at me and cried and I would’ve just felt like an ass because I accused her of something outright. Where I have the problem is making a distinction in my heart about cheating, and planning to cheat. She makes it sound like she isn’t looking to cheat, just wants the option available if she chooses. What’s the difference really? Why can’t she be a normal person and cheat behind my back? Why do I have to know it’s coming? Am I being punished?
I tilt back my wine glass and taste the bitterness of the warm liquid on the back of my tongue. It’s beginning to do its job. My legs and arms are beginning to feel light. In the kitchen, I pull the wine bottle off of the counter and recharge my glass…hold the bottle opening over the glass as the last few remaining drops of dark red blissfulness trickles in. How can she act so nonchalant about all this? I wonder as I tilt back the wine glass and empty it in one, long stream of swallow. That did it, my head feels lighter than my arms and legs now. I’m thoroughly numb…it’s time.
I walk over to the drawer where she keeps the large knives, the one I’m looking for is right on top; a large number with a serrated blade. I don’t just want to slice through the meat, I want to destroy it, render it irreparable. I pull the large knife out of the drawer and position myself in the center of the kitchen. I can hear her walking down the hallway, coming back toward the living room, back toward the open kitchen. Just as she turns the corner, I raise the blade to the side of my neck; press down as hard as I can, pull back as fast as I can. The pain is extreme, but short lived. As the blade moves away from me, the only sensations I feel is wetness, and a little cold. My body loses that weightless feeling and quickly becomes too heavy to support with my legs. I collapse to the floor just as she notices me. She lets out a small, surprised scream and rushes to the kitchen entrance. I look up at her beautiful, surprised face, and smile. You’re going to have to live with this, I think. The surprised look is disappearing from her face now, being replaced by something else… grief maybe…disappointment?
“What the hell are you thinking?” She says. “Who do you think is going to have to clean that mess up?”
She doesn’t move away from the entrance, but her form is becoming blurry to me. Before she fades out completely, I catch what looks like a dim smile. I’ll be dead in a few seconds and she’ll be left with the mess…I sure showed her…
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