Waking Up Alone

Maggie walked across the floor in her stocking feet. Her shoes lay in a heap by the door where she’d deliberately left them. Who knew silence could be this loud, she thought. Alone

. Her slender fingers undid the buttons of her blouse, unzipped the expensive skirt and let it slide to the floor. She caught herself stooping to retrieve it, but a sudden urge of defiance pricked her. She chose to step over it, as she made her way to the bathroom. The morgue had left her drained.

She flipped on the bathroom switch, flooding the pristine room with a light. The chrome gleamed. The reflection staring back at her looked pale and a little harsh. She opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed a bottle of aspirin, and popped off the cap with her thumbs. She swallowed three tablets, not bothering to wash them down. As she turned to run water for a bath, she tripped on the bath brush. She picked it up and studied it. Who would think such a simple object could inflict such pain? She sat it over in the trash, promising herself to throw it out first thing in the morning.

When her bath water was hot, she eased herself down, mindful of the cracked ribs and broken arm that she’d sustained a couple of months back. She sunk deep into the water, allowing it to cover her almost completely. Her thoughts turned to her husband that lay dead in the morgue.

She marveled that he should be beaten to death, stripped of his dignity, and left alone to die. What went through his mind as the blows showered upon him? Had he been afraid? Had he thought of her? Had his sick, twisted mind realized the irony of the situation as she did?

Water lapped gently around her bruised body. There was something comforting in the silence of the house, and she let the quiet fill her mind. There was no pitter-patter of little feet, not even a pet to give her comfort. William had hated the idea of having to share her with anyone or anything. He had made sure she would never bear children. She was ruined for any other man.

She lay in the water until it grew tepid, still reluctant to move. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been given the luxury of a long hot bath. Even when William was shame-faced about losing his temper, he was unwilling to let her out of his sight. He wanted her close so he could be sure she wasn’t sulking. He hated it when she sulked. She rose from the tub and dried herself. Painstakingly, she hung the towel upon the rack, but stopped short when she noticed her reflection in the mirror. There was no longer a need to live in fear. Purposely, she gave it a jerk, leaving it to hang off-center.

Maggie donned a simple cotton gown and slipped between the expensive Egyptian sheets. Begrudgingly, she had to admit William had a point about the finer things in life. She briefly thought of William, now laying on the cold, metal table and her enjoying the luxurious bed.

The next morning, the sunlight spilled in through the blinds and teased her eyelids open. Her hand reached out to the side of the bed where William had slept. Empty. She smiled and stretched, reveling in the pure joy of waking up alone.

Impressum

Bildmaterialien: Google Image
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 31.01.2013

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