Dead Names and Broken Smiles
She stares up at her bedroom ceiling. In an attempt to distract her troubled mind she connects the pin-hole dots above her like she does when gazing up at the stars. Her tired eyes roam over a brown spot in the left corner of the ceiling and she makes a mental note to call the repairman in the morning to see when he’d be able to fix the leak.
There is a slight mumble to her left and she holds her breath and body perfectly still, hoping to avoid the inevitable mumblings of her sleeping husband. After a moment her husband sighs and rolls to his left with his blue and green plaid pajama clad back facing her and he is still once more. Relief and disappointment flood her. She feels disappointed that he is not dreaming of her while he sleeps, and relief that he is not, as he always did, dreaming of Her.
Quickly she focuses her eyes back on her ceiling, determined not to let her thoughts wander down that treacherous path. She manages to spot an Easter bunny with a bent ear, a lopsided heart and the big dipper before her husband shifts and utters a name.
She gives a soft, defeated sigh at hearing the familiar name and knows that sleep will not come to her rescue. She is going to have to face the ghosts of her husband’s past alone and quite conscious. Sometimes she wishes she could find it in her to feel angry, or betrayed even, but all she ever feels is a sad acceptance tinged with an undertone of envy.
She doesn’t blame him, though, at least not entirely. It is her own fault. She knew when marrying him that his first wife had been the love of his life, but that did not stop her from hoping, foolishly she now knows, that he could also feel great love for her. But how could he when he remains, even in his slumbers, completely devoted to the memory of his first wife?
She was probably a saint, tall and slim, blonde and beautiful- things she is not.
She looks to the ceiling again, but the Easter bunny, the bent heart, and the big dipper do not have the answers she seeks.
In his deadened heart she planted a tiny seed and prayed that with gentle care and a loving hand it would grow and bear the fruits of her labor. If she had been smart, she would have left long before it reached this point, but still she stays to watch over her seedling which never sprouts even though she wishes so hard and has stayed so long.
That fateful night when she first heard him speak the name in his sleep she realized that it would never bloom and she has been an utter fool to think that she could replace the love he had lost. She has hated that name ever since then, cursing the woman that not only torments her husband but her as well. If she wasn’t dead, she believes she would kill her for the pain she has wrought on her fragile family.
But she suffers alone in silence and only the connect-the-dot character on her stained ceiling know of her heartache.
Her husband tosses and says the name, breaking her leaden thoughts.
She closes her eyes in acceptance- in resignation.
Rolling over onto her side she nearly screams when she sees that he is facing her with his eyes open.
“Sarah?” he asks in sleepy confusion.
As fast as her heart is racing it slows to a stop. “Yes, go back to sleep, my love,” she whispers gently, lovingly.
He lazily grins, closes his eyes and is instantly lost in his dreams once more.
And the smile on her lips breaks as Lisa begins to cry.
One Response to “Dead Names and Broken Smiles”
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I really liked your use of language. I knew what was going to happen but that is okay because the story is meant to be a heart wrenching realization. Good stuff!
P.S.
Just an idea: maybe you should leave the girl Lisa’s name out of the story and refer to her as just “she”?