Hello all! This was my runner-up entry into the September 2018 Fiction Contest for Sufficiently...
Separation [Sept. 2018 Fiction Contest Entry]
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Hello all! This was my runner-up entry into the September 2018 Fiction Contest for Sufficiently Newsworthy.
The prompt for the contest was "Murder".
===
SEPARATION
===
*ring ring, ring ring*
I knew, even before glancing at the number, exactly who was on the other end of the line. After all, he called at the same time every week. For a moment, I considered just letting it ring and go to voicemail, but that might wake the kids, so I reached out and pulled the phone of the hook.
"Hello Rick."
"…Marsha…" His voice was a breathy whisper, just like always. Full of wonder and longing enough to make my heart ache. It stirred up feelings of those early days, when his face would light up to see me, and when he'd act like I was his whole world.
I forced them down with the memories of all the later days. The yelling, the shouting… the bruises. No, I wouldn't let myself get pulled in. Not again.
"What do you want?" The question was flat and rote. I knew what he'd say. He'd say-
"…I love you. I love you so much. And the kids. I love the kids, I do, I do. You were so good…"
I stay silent. In the past, I'd shouted at him. Screamed loud enough that Billy and Rose had ended up waking up and hurrying in to see what was wrong. It didn't help, just left me feeling angry, the kids scared, and he still called back. Again and again and again.
"…I've changed. Really, I-I know you don't believe me. You shouldn't. I was… I was bad. So, so, so bad… But-but-but I can be good, now. I am good, better, I'm better than then…I love you…"
"If you love me, then why do you keep calling? You know what-" I cut myself off before my voice can get to raised. "I've asked you to stop."
"…I can't. I-I-I have to call. To talk to you. To-to let you know that I've changed…"
I bite back what I really want to say, choosing instead to stand up and pace over to the window, the phone handset pressed to my ear. I stare out at the darkened street below, before whispering, again, "What do you want?"
"…I want to come home…"
I grit my teeth. "You can't. We've-"
"…I can! I can, I really…There's a window! When I can come home!..."
I feel my heart clench up. Down below, I see a figure walking past under one of the streetlights, huddling in a coat as he hurries along the street. "No. Rick, you can't. It's not-"
"…Just a few days! Then I can come back! We-we-we can be a family again! It'll be d-d-different, this time… I'll be good, I swear, I'll be good…"
"…Would you?" My voice is hoarse. "Would you really? It's easy for you to say when you're in… when you're not here. But when you're back?" My hands were trembling, in anger or fear, I wasn't sure which. "No… no, you can't come back. Even if… No. We've moved on. You can't come back."
"…I…I do love you…"
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"…It's not…It's not my choice…"
"I know." It's my punishment. My penance, for what I did.
"…We could be a family…"
"No, we couldn't. Not when you were… Not when I had to be afraid that you'd, that you'd turn on Billy or Rose next."
"…I'd never! I'd never, never, no, never hurt them, never…"
His voice was wavering, breaking down, and my own broke a bit as I spoke. "I know you won't. Because I made sure that you never could." I shudder at the memory. The knife, the blood. The mound under a tree in the woods.
"…I love you…"
"Goodbye Rick. Have a good afterlife."
*click*
The prompt for the contest was "Murder".
===
SEPARATION
===
*ring ring, ring ring*
I knew, even before glancing at the number, exactly who was on the other end of the line. After all, he called at the same time every week. For a moment, I considered just letting it ring and go to voicemail, but that might wake the kids, so I reached out and pulled the phone of the hook.
"Hello Rick."
"…Marsha…" His voice was a breathy whisper, just like always. Full of wonder and longing enough to make my heart ache. It stirred up feelings of those early days, when his face would light up to see me, and when he'd act like I was his whole world.
I forced them down with the memories of all the later days. The yelling, the shouting… the bruises. No, I wouldn't let myself get pulled in. Not again.
"What do you want?" The question was flat and rote. I knew what he'd say. He'd say-
"…I love you. I love you so much. And the kids. I love the kids, I do, I do. You were so good…"
I stay silent. In the past, I'd shouted at him. Screamed loud enough that Billy and Rose had ended up waking up and hurrying in to see what was wrong. It didn't help, just left me feeling angry, the kids scared, and he still called back. Again and again and again.
"…I've changed. Really, I-I know you don't believe me. You shouldn't. I was… I was bad. So, so, so bad… But-but-but I can be good, now. I am good, better, I'm better than then…I love you…"
"If you love me, then why do you keep calling? You know what-" I cut myself off before my voice can get to raised. "I've asked you to stop."
"…I can't. I-I-I have to call. To talk to you. To-to let you know that I've changed…"
I bite back what I really want to say, choosing instead to stand up and pace over to the window, the phone handset pressed to my ear. I stare out at the darkened street below, before whispering, again, "What do you want?"
"…I want to come home…"
I grit my teeth. "You can't. We've-"
"…I can! I can, I really…There's a window! When I can come home!..."
I feel my heart clench up. Down below, I see a figure walking past under one of the streetlights, huddling in a coat as he hurries along the street. "No. Rick, you can't. It's not-"
"…Just a few days! Then I can come back! We-we-we can be a family again! It'll be d-d-different, this time… I'll be good, I swear, I'll be good…"
"…Would you?" My voice is hoarse. "Would you really? It's easy for you to say when you're in… when you're not here. But when you're back?" My hands were trembling, in anger or fear, I wasn't sure which. "No… no, you can't come back. Even if… No. We've moved on. You can't come back."
"…I…I do love you…"
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"…It's not…It's not my choice…"
"I know." It's my punishment. My penance, for what I did.
"…We could be a family…"
"No, we couldn't. Not when you were… Not when I had to be afraid that you'd, that you'd turn on Billy or Rose next."
"…I'd never! I'd never, never, no, never hurt them, never…"
His voice was wavering, breaking down, and my own broke a bit as I spoke. "I know you won't. Because I made sure that you never could." I shudder at the memory. The knife, the blood. The mound under a tree in the woods.
"…I love you…"
"Goodbye Rick. Have a good afterlife."
*click*
Crusader Jerome
Subsisting on Supplication
- Location
- My home away from Rome
That was heavy, but I like it.
Thanks! Yours felt surreal enough that I wasn't certain if it was actually happening, or if it was the dying thoughts of someone desperate enough to avoid social interaction to stab himself to death. Very well done.
Crusader Jerome
Subsisting on Supplication
- Location
- My home away from Rome
Honestly, the only type of content I can force is the ridiculous stuff. But I do get to expand on one of my favorite themes: that sometimes, it's the crazy people who see the world the most clearly. Within limits, of course.