Julianne was constantly discontent. If ennui was a disease, there was no cure for Julianne. Life often felt muted for the woman. She had her husband, she had her family, but they never seemed to truly fulfill her. So, each day, when Julianne would go to her duties as a house-wife she dreamt of something to take her away. For fifteen years she waited for that something to come and save her.
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6:30 AM
I awake to the sound of an alarm clock. My ears feel like they have been raped by this sinister machine. Despite my wish to stay in the warm comforts of my bed, I force myself to get up. I look out the window and see that it is still pitch black. I remember that it is the middle of winter and I give a shiver. As I tiptoe to the bathroom, I can hear one of my children talking in his sleep.
6:42 AM
The water in the shower is scalding hot. There is something soothing about burning my flesh; perhaps you could even call it sadistic. My skin reddens to the shade of a tomato while I busy myself with shampooing. Steam is building up on the walls until tiny drops of water roll down on gravity's accord. While I am in this room I almost forget about the fact that I have a family to speak of. In here, I am still single, still twenty-five, and still in possession of a life. If it were up to me, I would just live in this bathroom.
6:57 AM
A shirt falls down around my shoulders. I feel uncomfortable in this shirt, but I put it on anyways. It makes me look frumpy- just like the mother I am. But, it is appropriate for my life. I am a mother, I guess I should look like it. I can hear my husband just coming in from work. I can already tell his night shift did not go well by the slamming of the front door. It is too early for him to pull this shit, but I don't say anything.
7:05 AM
"Wake up, honey," I say to my youngest child, the seven year-old Braxton.
I watch him toss and turn in his head, pretending not to hear me. But, after persistent rousing on my part, he finally sits up in his bed. I kiss his forehead and move on to the next child.
My middle child, Abigail, has always been the hardest to rouse. Since she has entered her teenage years (she turned thirteen two months ago), she has become a total bitch. That's right- I just called my own daughter a bitch.
"Abigail," I raise my voice," get up!"
Abigail screams into her pillow and thrashes in the bed. We both know she's awake, so she gets out of bed and runs to the bathroom.
"Please don't take too long," I call out to her. "Your brothers have to use the bathroom too."
She makes no acknowledgement of me and I know she won't heed my warning.
7:45 AM
We are all at the breakfast table, eating our various cereals and pretending to have family time. Mostly, everyone stays quiet, not wanting to go out on a limb and say something. My oldest, seventeen year-old Carter, texts while shoveling food into his mouth.
"I wish you wouldn't do that at the table, Carter." I try to be firm with him.
"Mom," he pleads like a child," I'm talking to someone important."
"The conversation can wait until this evening. After school. After dinner. After chores."
Carter doesn't listen to me. No one in this house listens to me.
7:52 AM
I watch the school bus drive down the road, my children safely on board. And suddenly, I feel alone in this house. Of course, my husband is sleeping in our bed, but it is horribly lonely. I suppose I could do things that any house wife should do: garden, shop, maybe even bake. Yet, I have no desire to do these things.
7:55 AM
I am in the living room, lifting up the seat cushion of the couch. Under it is a brochure that I have kept hidden for the past three years. It is obviously worn and very delicate under my touch. I hold it close to me, as if we are long lost lovers. The glossiness of the pages has faded, but the smiles plastered on each panel are still there. Across the front page it says, "Learn. Live. Prosper. All at New Haven State College." I am holding my secret dream in my hand. I have always wanted to go to college. But, I met Pete and married right out of high school. And motherhood permanently prevented be from reaching for my dream.
8:31 AM
The hum of the laundry machine lulls me into a distant reverie. I am no longer a discontented house-wife. I am in a classroom, learning about the greats of American literature. I can smell the mustiness of the old college building; feel the wooden desks underneath my hands; and hear the scratching of pencil on paper. I feel oddly at peace, like the world is-
"Julianne," Pete screamed from the hallway," call the plumber. The toilet is acting up."
I feel so uncomfortable now, having been jarred from my fantasy land. It takes me a few moments to get my bearings, but I am able to get off of the couch. I walk slowly to my husband.
Pete used to be a handsome man, back in high school. His once dark hair was now thinning at the temples and a peculiar roundness was forming at his mid-section. He looked like any father approaching middle age. And, like all dads, he was slowly losing his dignity.
"What is it?" I ask, unafraid of being curt.
"One of the damn kids tried to flush something down the toilet and the whole fucking thing is backed up." He stammered all in one breath. "They're all getting punished."
"Calm down, Pete. I'll call the plumber and get it taken care of. You need to get back to bed."
8:34 AM
I am thumbing through the phone book. It has been warped by water damage and many of the pages were missing. I am beyond listless. I put down the phone book quietly, not wanting Pete to hear me. The keys to the family car are sitting on the table, just waiting for me to grab them. So, I heed their calls and hold them in my hand. It is time for me to get out of here.
9:57 AM
The radio is playing soft rock tunes as I am going down the interstate. There are no annoying ringtones from my cell phone to worry about; I left it on the table. I am only twenty minutes from New Haven. My pulse is beating rapidly because I am so excited. My home seems like a world away, like a faintly remembered dream. It is funny how a dream suddenly becomes reality and a reality becomes a dream. I can feel the muscles in my face tighten because I have been smiling ever since I pulled out of my driveway.
10:22 AMThe streets are lined with trees- old oaks that seem to give the place an even more intellectual air. There are large brick buildings covered green moss. For all of my previous excitement, I feel suddenly nervous. Yet, I get out of my parked car and walk to the closest brick building.
There are students walking across the campus; they are all much younger than I remember. They walk around like they don't care about anything and I can't help but envy them. I feel self-conscious here. I am an old woman next to them; I would never fit in with these people. I am a mother, not a co-ed.
11:00 AM
I file into a classroom with a group of other students. They regard me rather warily, but don't say a word. I sit in the back corner, trying not to draw attention to myself. Thankfully, this is a larger class, so I am not noticeable. I am starting to feel more at ease here, just like in my dreams. It feels right.
The professor walks in and she is just like any professor I had ever imagined. She is slightly older, her hair messy, and glasses askew. Her presence is undeniable when she starts to speak. I can do nothing but listen to her talk about Freudian concepts.
12:30 PM
The class is finally over and students are filing out. Though I would like to stay in this room and hear more, I know that I have to leave. With a stone in my heart, I walk out of the classroom. I know the professor noticed my presence, but I am glad she chose not to say anything. Unsure of what to do next, I walk outside. The sun is hidden behind cottony clouds and snow has covered the dead grass. It is bleak, yet I don't mind it. However, the immediate chill of the day forces me to seek out my car.
12:42 PM
I have been sitting in my car for the past five minutes thinking. I guess that I have finally fulfilled the fantasy, so there is nothing to dream about anymore. I want to cry, but I don't want to muster the tears. I know better than to nurse the foolish hope that this could be my future. No, I can't come back here ever again. I am obligated to my family; I can't leave them even to do something I want. If I kept coming back, I would only see how much of my life I have given away.
So, here I am: sitting in a car in a college parking lot. I don't belong here and I never will. I turn the car on and put it in drive.
2:50 PM
I finally pull into the driveway. From the outside, my house looks so foreign to me. Is this really where I live? I don't remember it looking so plain, like a jail cell. Maybe I never noticed, or maybe I always did. I am loathe to get out of the car, because it means that my day is finally over. In fact, I seriously consider never getting out and just driving back to New Haven.
3:12 PM
"God dammit, Julianne," Pete yells into my face. "Where the hell did you go? You didn't even bother to tell me. You didn't even bring your cell phone. What the hell were you thinking? I can't even tell you how much I was worried you were gone. This was the most selfish thing you've ever done."
Pete has been yelling like this for some time now. He doesn't even care that our children are watching this all happen. I merely look back at him blankly. It is not his business to know my dreams. They are the only thing I have kept to myself.
"Well, what the hell do you have to say for yourself?" Pete finally finishes.
"I went for a drive." I snap back, making it obvious that I am giving him no further information.
Pete shrugs his shoulders and tramps back into the bedroom. The kids are staring at me with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
"Who wants meatloaf for dinner?" I ask.
10:45 PM
Pete and I are getting ready for bed. He seems so unsure about himself at this moment. I know that, in his head, he is wondering where he will sleep tonight. It is obvious he wants to stay in our bed, but he is sure that he will be stuck on the couch for the night. He walks back into our bedroom and stands awkwardly in the door-frame. I motion for him to come to bed. He happily climbs in.
It is uncomfortable in this bed. We are afraid to touch each other. Even though I don't want him in this bed, I know that I cannot deny Pete his place. So, we squirm as we try to make this situation somehow bearable.
11:57 PM
"Are you seeing someone else?" Pete finally asks.
I can tell it took a great deal of courage for him to ask that. It is obvious that he wants to stay oblivious, but he can't help but to ask. His voice trembles with sobs, and it hurts me a little. The room is absolutely silent and I can feel the tension build. I don't want to answer, I don't want to say anything. So, I roll over, and face the wall. I can hear him sob a little harder now.
I may have lust, darling, but it is not for flesh.
This is really good! Still rough, but a great start. I'd like to see more. =)
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