Morning Has Broken

She woke up and without realizing, reveled in the blank canvass of morning amnesia;  those fleeting moments in which you forget reality.  She’d forgotten about everything.  For those few minutes, she lived completely in the moment. Last week didn’t exist.   Last night didn’t either.

And then, it hit her. Her life.  Dammit.  The newness of another day offered no reprieve. Everything came back to her in a swift emotional head butt.

What would she do? How would she fix this problem?  It’s on going, but everyday the wound deepens.

She sat up in bed; and rubbed her face.  How?  Why?  She was unwittingly giving pain power and it was eating her soul.

A ray of morning sun crept through a narrow break in the window blinds. It was bright and it felt rude, especially when her eyes had barely adjusted to her wakened state.

She squinted, then put her hand over her eyes.

Sometimes, it’s painful to have to experience certain things.

She got up and entered the bathroom to wash her face, but she was sidetracked by the mirror and that strange woman looking back at her. She was unrecognizable. Who was this emotional shit pile? This woman with the bags under her eyes, the swollen face and the lines and wrinkles that had been honed from worry in recent months. The water was running full force. She turned it off . What she saw; how she felt couldn’t be washed away.  Pain was affixed.

She walked into the kitchen,  where He was reading the paper. He didn’t acknowledge her; She didn’t look at him. She stepped on a piece of broken plate.  It crack underfoot.  She kicked it aside.  Broken dishes   littered the floor. The juice stain on the wall had dried; the carton was still on the floor some five feet below lying in a semi-coagulated pool of orange.

It was the third fight that week. It was the worst one.  Each had been more  vicious than the last. Each fight represented the irreparable nature of their tattered relationship.  Their marriage, after seven years, lied in jagged shards along with half their dishware.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. A dining room chair was still on it’s side. She averted her eyes away from evidence of last night’s rage.

Sometimes, it’s painful to be reminded of certain things

He said, “I guess there’s really nothing left to talk about. There’s nothing left to say. Besides, if this week has taught us one thing, it’s that we can’t talk anymore.”

She sipped her coffee and looked straight ahead…saying nothing; feeling everything.

“Look, let’s let calmer heads prevail this morning, can we?”

She didn’t respond.

“You and I both know that this just isn’t working anymore. We don’t work anymore. The reality is that I’m miserable and if you were honest, you’d admit that you are, too. So, I don’t know what else to do other than leave. I’m going to stay with my brother for a while. I’d like to tell you that we could try counseling but it would just be lip service. I think too much damage has been done.  So, I feel it’s best to tell you that I’m meeting with my lawyer this afternoon.”

She wiped away a tear.

More silence.    That is, until the refrigerator kicked into a cycle and the hum at that moment, seemed deafening.

“Well? What are you going to do? You need to do something.”

“I’m going to fix us a nice breakfast and then I’ve got to get ready to run errands. I’ve got a million things to buy at the grocery store. I’m thinking about inviting the Clark’s for dinner Thursday night. Check your schedule to see if you need to move a few things around.”

“Claire, did you hear a thing I said?”

“Yes, I did. I heard you say that you have a busy day ahead of you, too. Why don’t you take a shower first and I’ll start cooking?”

Silence was the only response.

She went to the refrigerator to retrieve milk and eggs. She opened the door and looked inside. All she saw was her future. The disconnect that now existed between them was palpable. She hated this feeling. Make it go away, she thought. Far, far away. Emptiness must fill the voids. To feel anything is too painful.

Yes, emptiness is best.

She grabbed a carton of eggs and and just stood there for a moment. He said nothing and that moment, She felt nothing.

Mercifully.

Sometimes, it’s painful to deal with certain things.

,

.

,..

(Chapter 2 next week that is, if you’re good and providing you even want a Chapter 2…hint..hint)

10 comments

  1. I’m with Karol–give us more and don’t go on some damn writer’s strike and end up putting your star into jail for DWI and then deciding not to even write the 7th season until next year and all the while leaving me wondering whether Jack Bauer will actually ever have a decent life… oh sorry, I think I went off topic for a second.

  2. can’t wait till next week. will she divorce him or will he divorce her? did she sleep with someone else or did he? is she pregnant by another man or is he going to be a daddy by another woman?

  3. Or–if it is the WB version: Will she walk out and sleep with a 15 year old stud down the street? Will he end up gay and move in with his hair stylist? Will she turn in to a vampire and suck his blood until he become an undead monster himself?

  4. This is good, Murph.
    Or-did her mother sleep with her husband? Did his dad sleep with her mother? Is she really a He? Is he really a She? Of course, the above sounds like a Lifetime made for tv movie. Laurie, please don’t make it sound like that.

    The above comments, I mean.

  5. Laurie wrote a story about 25 years ago that was such a heart grabber that it made me weep and I don’t do that with books. I won’t go into what the story was about but it should have been sent to a magazine.

  6. I need to know what happens next. And by need I may go completly insane wondering if you don’t post something before next week.

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