Note for herself

“Dear …” she wrote.

She listened to the rain pouring outside, a melody to their wonderful death.

“I am leaving… I will be safe. Please don't come try to find me. I will call you when I am able to….”

She looked at the picture and looked at how happy they had been during that time six years ago. Everyone seemed to be smiling and laughing, enjoying the wedding. They had thought this was it and it would be forever.

“…Our times had been good when we first started out. But I cannot stand the silence when we are by ourselves. We thought ours was special. We both looked so happy and didn’t care what everyone thought. How the times have changed! Over the past couple of years I have wondered if this was it. I have really thought it over and realize that we were not meant to be together. We took our childish fantasies too seriously. Our marriage has become an empty shell -- beautiful with a wonderful song, but only because it is empty. ”

A teardrop fell on her writing, smudging it. She let it be.

“We started out as friends. I think we should have realized that we were meant only to be friends. Our harmless flirting led us on. Before we realized it, we were the couple. The teasing only added to it and though neither of us was sure we went with it. We didn’t see it then, but when I look back at it now, it seems so obvious.”

“Couples are not made in heaven, and this is not a fairy tale. Every rescued princess does not have to marry the savior. How could we not see that we would have not worked? Even so, for the time we were married, I gave it my best. I tried to be the good wife and partner you were looking for. You have given your best too. But now I’m tired of pretending. I cannot pretend to act the way that I am not. It is taking a toll on me and I sleep every night, dreading the next morning when we both will have to act our parts as if nothing had been wrong.”

“I am not complaining that you have been a bad husband. You have done nothing wrong and I know that you would not do anything to hurt me. But every morning I can hear the words you never utter. I can feel the alienation between us and I am sure you feel the same too. Both of us have been acting for too long and if you won’t take the next step, I am afraid I will have to.”

“Time can teach you to love, but I’m tired of waiting on time. It has dragged on too long and I have sacrificed a lot. I thought our feelings from the past would resurface and we would be fine, but it has not been that way. In fact it has been going the other way ever since. The more I try to love you, the phonier this relationship seems. This pretending has created a convoluted reality that I am desperate to escape. I cannot keep doing this… I cannot … keep pretending…”

She looked around at her house and all the decors she had so carefully put up. The souvenir from their honeymoon hung on the wall, their wedding picture where they looked so happy, and a carefully framed picture of her family in their last vacation. Her son was looking at her. This was her family -- herself, her husband and her son all smiling for the picture. ‘The happy family’ she thought. She kept looking at her son’s innocent smile and saw some hope. He was only five now and he still had to face the world. How would he take the news if she and her husband went their separate ways? He wouldn’t be the happiest kid in school but he would grow over it. Really, would he? The more she thought the more she felt the need to nurture and protect. The mother within her cried selfish but the woman in her called for freedom.

She took the note she had been writing and carefully folded it in half. Her eyes stared at it with mixed emotions, fingers playing with the folded crease. She made up her mind. Determined, she walked over to the fireplace and flung her selfish freedom into it. The deed was done but she kept staring into the iridescent flames -- at the note being consumed by it. White paper turned dark ash as the fire ate at it and she cried. She kneeled in front of the fire and wept like she had never wept. She wept for all the dreams she had sacrificed, everything she had left unsaid and all the illusionary happiness. The fire reflected in her tears – dancing in the salty mess. She wept till her tears ran dry.

Her note was no more but she had her child to look after. A sigh of relief and dread escaped her lips as she stood up and wiped her now dry cheeks. She turned around and went to the bedroom. There was some unpacking to do.