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Margaret wakes up every single day knowing something is horribly wrong with her life. Every morning she has to fight her urges to die. She lives with her guilt, with her loneliness. A single question runs through her mind every day: 'what if'?
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8:15 AM
My alarm clock blares. I am startled awake by it . I roll over and bump into the body that belongs to my husband. He is an incredibly unattractive sleeper. He has his mouth hanging open and eyes half-way shut. Sometimes I hate having to wake up next to him, but nothing will change the fact that I have to wake up to him for the rest of my life.
I get out of the bed and walk across the floor. The carpet always tickles my feet. She always hated carpet….
8:25 AM
I am pulling up pants that I don't really want to wear. But, I have to look nice. She always said that looking nice was over-rated. She always had her hair in a mess and never matched her clothes.
"Good Morning, honey," my husband walks up behind me and kisses my cheek. I feel like vomiting.
"Morning." I say as I concentrate on finding the right top.
He sighs and leaves the closet. I can tell he was looking for something more from me. I can never give that to him… it already belongs to her.
And as I pull down a sweater over my head, I think of her.
We met on a Sunday, in a coffee-shop only a block from my dorm. God, I remember spilling a cup full of boiling coffee all over myself when I first saw her. She giggled and brought napkins over to me.
I am roused back to my day when I hear my husband cursing in the hallway. I go over to the dresser and I pull out a t-shirt that has been well-hidden. It is covered in atrocious coffee stains.
8:35 AM
Coffee is sitting in my mouth as I wait to swallow. I am filling in the crossword puzzle with a pen. She always made fun of me for that and would sometimes scribble out the crosswords so that I wouldn't ignore her in the morning. My husband is noisily eating the scrambled eggs I made him. I hate that he chews with his mouth open… I am continuing the puzzle, trying to ignore him.
"Clue 45. Laundry Detergent (5 Letters)."
My mouth immediately goes dry. My eyes immediately well up. It is our most precious memory. I run to our laundry room.
8:43 AM
I am sitting on the laundry room floor as I am weeping. I am holding a box of laundry soap in my arms. It is my last connection to her. It is all I have now.
We were in the Student Union. I was doing my laundry. She was flipping through a book of poetry. I watched her as she read a poem about the stars. She looked so content, just standing there. She didn't need a façade of wealth or normalcy. She was perfectly happy with this dank laundry room and a battered book of poetry. I got up from the ground and walked towards her. I kissed her like I always wanted to. I kissed her like I always should have. And we stood there, kissing. The smell of laundry soap in the air and the hum of washing machines in the background.
"What the hell are you doing?" My husband yells at me from the doorway. He looks utterly disturbed.
"Nothing," I say as I wipe tears from my face. I feel ashamed.
8:51 AM
My husband is leaving for work. He kisses me good-bye and slams the door behind him. I like the house so much more when he isn't in it. It is almost like the house I planned to buy for her. The only thing that was missing was her.
We were sprawled out across the floor, eating slices of pizza. I was studying for my Econ 240 exam. She was doodling on a piece of paper. Every so often I would glance up from my book to see what she was drawing. They were pictures of houses and families standing in front of them. She caught me looking once and blushed a little.
"You should be working on studying," she lightly scolded, not really meaning it.
"I was curious," I whispered as I kissed her cheek. "I like your drawings…"
"Thanks." She beamed. "It's us with our kids, in front of our house."
I looked more closely and I saw the stick figure version of me standing next to my beautiful stick figure wife. My stick figure children looked beautiful. The little girl had my nose… I almost cried it was so beautiful.
"I promise," I started, trying to be as sincere as possible," that in five years that we'll be there. I want to buy you a beautiful house and I want us to have a thousand kids. And I want you to read to them everyday. And I want to teach them how to play sports and everything else that we're supposed to do as parents!"
I was raving, which was making her giggle. I meant every word, though…
9:27 AM
I am sitting on the couch, reading through a worn book of poetry. It is quiet in this house, almost too quiet for me to tolerate. There are no children. I refused to have children with my husband. I won't have them unless they are her's. I finish the current page I am on and I delicately turn the page. The book is about to fall apart, because I have read it so much. It used to be her book. I come on the page I most love; it is even more worn than the rest of the book. The letters are barely visible now…
"Let me read you a poem," she whispered to me as I was about to fall asleep.
"Ok," I murmured, though I really hadn't heard what she had said.
"It's my favorite." She flipped to the page and began.
"When I see you, there is nothing but stars.
When I kiss you, these stars rupture in cataclysm.
To be with you, I shall be the astronaut.
That is the wonder of your love."
I remember falling asleep with a smile on my face that night.
9:45 AM
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8:15 AM
My alarm clock blares. I am startled awake by it . I roll over and bump into the body that belongs to my husband. He is an incredibly unattractive sleeper. He has his mouth hanging open and eyes half-way shut. Sometimes I hate having to wake up next to him, but nothing will change the fact that I have to wake up to him for the rest of my life.
I get out of the bed and walk across the floor. The carpet always tickles my feet. She always hated carpet….
8:25 AM
I am pulling up pants that I don't really want to wear. But, I have to look nice. She always said that looking nice was over-rated. She always had her hair in a mess and never matched her clothes.
"Good Morning, honey," my husband walks up behind me and kisses my cheek. I feel like vomiting.
"Morning." I say as I concentrate on finding the right top.
He sighs and leaves the closet. I can tell he was looking for something more from me. I can never give that to him… it already belongs to her.
And as I pull down a sweater over my head, I think of her.
We met on a Sunday, in a coffee-shop only a block from my dorm. God, I remember spilling a cup full of boiling coffee all over myself when I first saw her. She giggled and brought napkins over to me.
I am roused back to my day when I hear my husband cursing in the hallway. I go over to the dresser and I pull out a t-shirt that has been well-hidden. It is covered in atrocious coffee stains.
8:35 AM
Coffee is sitting in my mouth as I wait to swallow. I am filling in the crossword puzzle with a pen. She always made fun of me for that and would sometimes scribble out the crosswords so that I wouldn't ignore her in the morning. My husband is noisily eating the scrambled eggs I made him. I hate that he chews with his mouth open… I am continuing the puzzle, trying to ignore him.
"Clue 45. Laundry Detergent (5 Letters)."
My mouth immediately goes dry. My eyes immediately well up. It is our most precious memory. I run to our laundry room.
8:43 AM
I am sitting on the laundry room floor as I am weeping. I am holding a box of laundry soap in my arms. It is my last connection to her. It is all I have now.
We were in the Student Union. I was doing my laundry. She was flipping through a book of poetry. I watched her as she read a poem about the stars. She looked so content, just standing there. She didn't need a façade of wealth or normalcy. She was perfectly happy with this dank laundry room and a battered book of poetry. I got up from the ground and walked towards her. I kissed her like I always wanted to. I kissed her like I always should have. And we stood there, kissing. The smell of laundry soap in the air and the hum of washing machines in the background.
"What the hell are you doing?" My husband yells at me from the doorway. He looks utterly disturbed.
"Nothing," I say as I wipe tears from my face. I feel ashamed.
8:51 AM
My husband is leaving for work. He kisses me good-bye and slams the door behind him. I like the house so much more when he isn't in it. It is almost like the house I planned to buy for her. The only thing that was missing was her.
We were sprawled out across the floor, eating slices of pizza. I was studying for my Econ 240 exam. She was doodling on a piece of paper. Every so often I would glance up from my book to see what she was drawing. They were pictures of houses and families standing in front of them. She caught me looking once and blushed a little.
"You should be working on studying," she lightly scolded, not really meaning it.
"I was curious," I whispered as I kissed her cheek. "I like your drawings…"
"Thanks." She beamed. "It's us with our kids, in front of our house."
I looked more closely and I saw the stick figure version of me standing next to my beautiful stick figure wife. My stick figure children looked beautiful. The little girl had my nose… I almost cried it was so beautiful.
"I promise," I started, trying to be as sincere as possible," that in five years that we'll be there. I want to buy you a beautiful house and I want us to have a thousand kids. And I want you to read to them everyday. And I want to teach them how to play sports and everything else that we're supposed to do as parents!"
I was raving, which was making her giggle. I meant every word, though…
9:27 AM
I am sitting on the couch, reading through a worn book of poetry. It is quiet in this house, almost too quiet for me to tolerate. There are no children. I refused to have children with my husband. I won't have them unless they are her's. I finish the current page I am on and I delicately turn the page. The book is about to fall apart, because I have read it so much. It used to be her book. I come on the page I most love; it is even more worn than the rest of the book. The letters are barely visible now…
"Let me read you a poem," she whispered to me as I was about to fall asleep.
"Ok," I murmured, though I really hadn't heard what she had said.
"It's my favorite." She flipped to the page and began.
"When I see you, there is nothing but stars.
When I kiss you, these stars rupture in cataclysm.
To be with you, I shall be the astronaut.
That is the wonder of your love."
I remember falling asleep with a smile on my face that night.
9:45 AM
I wake up from the short nap I took. There is drool running down my chin and a metallic taste in my mouth. The only sound in the house is the ticking of the clock. I can't find the poetry book anywhere. I am worried as I rip through the couch until I found it underneath a cushion. When I find it, I hold it in my arms as though it were a damaged child. It was the only thing she left me. I didn't deserve it; not after all of the shit I put her through.
11:22 AM
I am greedily eating a sandwich as I flip through channels. She had always said that television was over-rated. But, I let the cultural waste fill me eyes as the crumbs gathered on my shirt. I feel so meaningless sitting in this room. She always made me feel important, but she isn't here anymore. I can feel loneliness set in like a disease; I wish I were dead right about now.
I was sitting on a park bench at the end of town. I knew she wouldn't find me here. I could barely breathe anymore. I couldn't think straight. There was a horrible battle going on inside of me; I had a choice between her and my own personal world. Who did I love more? I felt dizzy and my throat was burning as vomit traveled up my esophagus. All I could do was sit on that bench. She wanted me to leave our small town for New York. She wanted us to go to a place where we could be accepted. She wanted everyone to know about our secret love. I was so afraid. So desperately afraid.
11:57 AM
I am washing the dishes. There is a sink-full that I should have taken care of days ago, but I am only just getting to them. I have the water as hot as it will go so that I can ensure the dishes will be as clean as possible. I reach my hand into the water and my skin is burning; in fact, I think my skin is screaming in pain. But, I pay no attention to it and I suds up all of the dishes. Time feels so slow, like it is melting around me in some sort of Dali fantasy.
"You don't want to come with me, then?" She screamed.
"I can't just leave everything. I have obligations…" I said, already becoming disgusted with myself.
"Just admit it, you were always ashamed. All of those times you said you loved me, you didn't really mean it."
I couldn't say a word; she had hit the nail on the head. I could only look down to the ground as I felt tears welling in my eyes. She threw her glass on the ground, causing a huge-
CRASH!
I am suddenly jarred back into reality as something falls to the ground and shatters. I look down to see that I had dropped a plate on the ground. There are pieces of glass everywhere. My hands are oozing red rivulets, running into the water like snakes. I curse under my breath as I began to pick the glass out of my fingers. It is painful, but I'm not fazed…
12:42 PM
I am putting an array of Band-Aids on my fingers. I look like I've given myself a manicure with a cheese grater. My nerves are practically shattered, so I walk into my bedroom and hunch next to my night-stand. The top drawer houses the item I am looking for. I pull out a well-worn pack of cigarettes that smell like the inside of a cedar chest. I pull on out very gingerly and light it. I crawl into the corner of my bedroom and inhale the smoke deeply. Tears run down my face.
She was moving out. It had been a testy week between us to say the least. She had all of her things stuffed into three trash bags. I sat on the front steps as she carried down each bag, nearly toppled over by the weight of it. Neither of us was looking at the other. I knew that I should be going with her, but I knew that I wouldn't.
She had finally put her last bag into the taxi out front. She came in one last time. I hadn't expected her to come and say good-bye. My heart lifted a little. Tears were pouring down her face as though buckets were behind her eyes. We didn't know what to say- what to do. We stood there for several minutes, just looking at each other. The taxi cab's horn honked impatiently and she suddenly looked away. She put her poetry book on the coffee table and walked out of the door.
I grabbed the book as I sobbed. I held the book, kissed its worn bindings.
1:32 PM
I hear the front door closing; my husband has come home. I wipe the tears off of my face as I get up from the corner. I hide all of my contraband back inside of my night-stand and go to greet him. He looks flustered from his day. He drops his briefcase on the ground and kicks off his shoes. I watch him with a mixture of contempt and sadness. He has stopped paying attention to me anymore. I don't think he even considers me his wife anymore. But, I know he is too scared to leave me. He sits on the couch and turns on the television. I sit next to him and we briefly acknowledge the other's presence.
I deserve the fate I have come to inherit. Lord knows I could have gone after her. I had the chance for happiness. Sometimes I read her poem, just to get me through the day. We were the stars, but the stars came crashing down…
11:22 AM
I am greedily eating a sandwich as I flip through channels. She had always said that television was over-rated. But, I let the cultural waste fill me eyes as the crumbs gathered on my shirt. I feel so meaningless sitting in this room. She always made me feel important, but she isn't here anymore. I can feel loneliness set in like a disease; I wish I were dead right about now.
I was sitting on a park bench at the end of town. I knew she wouldn't find me here. I could barely breathe anymore. I couldn't think straight. There was a horrible battle going on inside of me; I had a choice between her and my own personal world. Who did I love more? I felt dizzy and my throat was burning as vomit traveled up my esophagus. All I could do was sit on that bench. She wanted me to leave our small town for New York. She wanted us to go to a place where we could be accepted. She wanted everyone to know about our secret love. I was so afraid. So desperately afraid.
11:57 AM
I am washing the dishes. There is a sink-full that I should have taken care of days ago, but I am only just getting to them. I have the water as hot as it will go so that I can ensure the dishes will be as clean as possible. I reach my hand into the water and my skin is burning; in fact, I think my skin is screaming in pain. But, I pay no attention to it and I suds up all of the dishes. Time feels so slow, like it is melting around me in some sort of Dali fantasy.
"You don't want to come with me, then?" She screamed.
"I can't just leave everything. I have obligations…" I said, already becoming disgusted with myself.
"Just admit it, you were always ashamed. All of those times you said you loved me, you didn't really mean it."
I couldn't say a word; she had hit the nail on the head. I could only look down to the ground as I felt tears welling in my eyes. She threw her glass on the ground, causing a huge-
CRASH!
I am suddenly jarred back into reality as something falls to the ground and shatters. I look down to see that I had dropped a plate on the ground. There are pieces of glass everywhere. My hands are oozing red rivulets, running into the water like snakes. I curse under my breath as I began to pick the glass out of my fingers. It is painful, but I'm not fazed…
12:42 PM
I am putting an array of Band-Aids on my fingers. I look like I've given myself a manicure with a cheese grater. My nerves are practically shattered, so I walk into my bedroom and hunch next to my night-stand. The top drawer houses the item I am looking for. I pull out a well-worn pack of cigarettes that smell like the inside of a cedar chest. I pull on out very gingerly and light it. I crawl into the corner of my bedroom and inhale the smoke deeply. Tears run down my face.
She was moving out. It had been a testy week between us to say the least. She had all of her things stuffed into three trash bags. I sat on the front steps as she carried down each bag, nearly toppled over by the weight of it. Neither of us was looking at the other. I knew that I should be going with her, but I knew that I wouldn't.
She had finally put her last bag into the taxi out front. She came in one last time. I hadn't expected her to come and say good-bye. My heart lifted a little. Tears were pouring down her face as though buckets were behind her eyes. We didn't know what to say- what to do. We stood there for several minutes, just looking at each other. The taxi cab's horn honked impatiently and she suddenly looked away. She put her poetry book on the coffee table and walked out of the door.
I grabbed the book as I sobbed. I held the book, kissed its worn bindings.
1:32 PM
I hear the front door closing; my husband has come home. I wipe the tears off of my face as I get up from the corner. I hide all of my contraband back inside of my night-stand and go to greet him. He looks flustered from his day. He drops his briefcase on the ground and kicks off his shoes. I watch him with a mixture of contempt and sadness. He has stopped paying attention to me anymore. I don't think he even considers me his wife anymore. But, I know he is too scared to leave me. He sits on the couch and turns on the television. I sit next to him and we briefly acknowledge the other's presence.
I deserve the fate I have come to inherit. Lord knows I could have gone after her. I had the chance for happiness. Sometimes I read her poem, just to get me through the day. We were the stars, but the stars came crashing down…
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