scatteredreamz (scatteredreamz) wrote,
scatteredreamz
scatteredreamz

It was a dark and hot night...

I've been reading a book called The Social Animal by David Brooks and it got me in the mood to write a piece like this. I will warn you that it is sort of unresolved and dark. I feel the need to preface that I am aware I gave the character a few close-to-home issues, but don't read into this too much. I get a little dark when its... dark :) I took a nap stupidly and now I'm up way to early and can't sleep.

------


This was not what I expected my life to be.

Sarah was strewn across the couch, her laptop at her side. She gazed out of the open window at the side of the neighboring house not 2 feet away. The moon was filtering through the city haze and casting a thin light across the cheap wooden panels (was it even really wood?). It was just bright enough to light up the fresh coat of paint still drying over grafitte her neighbor Lucille had hastily tried to wipe from her life that morning, cursing profusely the whole time. Sarah's husband was snoring loudly in their bedroom and she could not, would not, sleep there tonight. The new stew pot her mother had bought her for their first Christmas together lay at the side of  the bed, stomache acid and beer damaging the non-stick coating slowly. She would deal with that when the sun was out. Same for the mess on the side of her car from when she had drove him home after dragging him out of the bar a few hours before. Thankfully this time the inside of the car was untouched.

She was not the only thing strewn on the couch. Papers and books, laundry and tupperware littered the space around her. With all the overtime she was doing at work, Sarah rarely had the energy on weekdays to keep the house tiddy. Bob was actually pretty clean for a guy, but when work got her down Sarah could be a real slob.
She yawned. It was 3am.

Do I sleep on the couch?

She couldn't stand the smell of beer seeping out of her husbands pores, out of his snores. But she always got a backache sleeping on this couch for more than a nap. She clicked absentmindedly through old facebook photos. Pictures of her friends from college. Early dates with her husband. Their honeymoon and wedding shots. She could tell you all the stories. "If you look in the backgound there you can see Uncle Ted's tie starting to catch fire! We nearly had the whole place down! It was a riot!" On nights like tonight she notes bitterly all the pictures where her husband it holding a beer.

When he was sober, Bob was the most amazing man she'd ever known. He was good at his job, all of his coworkers loved him. His friends were numerous and steadfast; to be honest, they were over at the house almost more than she would like. As far as family went, he got along great with his mom and dad, and his sister loved him openly. His sister's two sons thought he was to be idolized, and did so openly in his presence. He loved to play frisbee and videogames with them. He cleaned the dishes and cooked often, gave her directions and found her wallet when, inevitably, she lost it over and over again. He was her rock. When she was down about family or work or friends he always cheered her up.

Often she felt like the weak link in their relationship. Her moodswings and depression, a gift from her mother's mother's mother, made her less than dependable as a companion. She worked too much and gave into sex too seldom. The chores were always last place, and the refrigerator was often bare of edible food. Her interested in parties was minimal and on Friday nights she was a downright drag if she didn't get a nap in first. She didn't wear makeup much and jeans were her constant bottom of choice even in the Summer.

Do I drive him to do this?

She sighed, and clicked over to the newsfeed. Most of her friends (could I even call half these people "friends"?) were posting about parties or what they ate for lunch. A few always posted bible verses. She read one hoping for encouragement, but it was about following the law or something like that. ADD set in and she popped open another tab and brought up MSNBC. Nothing new - war,deficit,politics. Blablabla. She pulled up Stumbleupon and slipped away from her thoughts for a half hour while she amused herself with the newest viral shit. Soon it was 4am and she was tired and still felt down. And Bob was still snoring like a freight train.

Sarah stared at the ceiling. She stared at the dog, snout and toes twitching as he slept with one eye half open and fixed unseeing towards her. She stared out the window again.

...Do I drive him to do this?

"Go to bed". A little voice in her silent head. A smarter voice than her own. She sighed and closed the laptop. The dog shifted and looked up at her briefly before curling into a ball. She quietly crept over squeeky floorboards to the bedroom and slipped off her socks and her bra. As she climbed into bed her husband stirred. Covers were distributed and pillows were shifted. Sarah lay awake staring at a new patch of moon-lit ceiling. After a few minutes her husband rolled over and his arm wrapped around her gently. She couldn't help but feel comforted at his touch, and his breath wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. He kissed her on the cheek. "I love you".

I love you too.
 


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