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| On the 8th Day She Rested by JD Mason 
Chapter One...
I swear, I've been working so much I see dancing contracts and depositions when I close my eyes. My hours are nine to five but lately it's been more like nine to nine. Somewhere along the line McGreggor, my boss decided that the abolition of slavery doesn't apply to Legal Secretaries on a salary. Now don't get me wrong. I've never been afraid of hard work. I love productivity and excel under the pressure of deadlines. But like most people I enjoy getting a pat on the back from time to time too. I can't remember the last time I heard a simple "Thank you, Ruth" or "Great job, Ruth." McGreggor isn't big on gratitude or appreciation but he's larger than life in his demands and expectations. It's almost eight-thirty when I turn down my street and all I want to do is enjoy a quiet evening alone. Tonight's agenda includes soaking in a hot bath, giving Gerald Albright the privilege of serenading me and sipping on a hot cup of plum tea. Not exactly the most exciting evening but that's my idea of heaven on earth. I know tomorrow's not going to be any better than today was and the best I can hope for is that it won't be worse so I just want to relax and peel out of this stress. I pull into the driveway next to my husband's big, black Pontiac and all of a sudden I don't feel very well. My peaceful thoughts slither down through my stomach, into my intestinal track and escape from my behind in the form of gas. I haven't seen or heard from Eric in weeks and this time I loved it. This time it didn't matter where he was or what he was doing or who he was doing it with. This time I didn't care. I refused to trip or allow myself one jealous or insecure thought. I even backed away from feelings of inadequacy. No, this time was different. It was a blessing. In retrospect every time Eric's taken off on one of his little hiatus' from our marriage has been a blessing but it's taken me 14 years to finally realize it. God realized it though. A long time ago he realized that I've needed this time away from Eric even more than he's needed to be out fucking around. This brief separation has served as an example to me of how life could be without Eric...cool and really cool, full of ocean blue peace. Since he's been gone, no one has called me a bitch or cussed me out about the drycleaners putting too much starch in his shirts. I didn't have to have sex or lie that I couldn't have sex because of the persistent period I've suffered from all these years that my gynecologist can't seem to find a reasonable explanation or cure for. If he was smart, he'd know that no one can bleed as long as I've been claiming to bleed and still be alive. But... I just turned 33 years old and the fantasies I used to have about my husband have evaporated in the space of time and there's nothing left but Eric. The man who instantly comes to his senses and realizes how much he loves and cherishes me has never shown his face in this house. The one who gets up early in the morning and brings me breakfast in bed, kissing my cheeks and hands, making love to me in the tender way he never did, was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. The man who sees for the first time how beautiful I am, then apologizes profusely for ever hurting me, lives in another house somewhere else. The Eric who takes me out dancing, treats me like a princess and is the prince whose sole purpose in life is to protect me and make sure I live happily ever after, stood me up years ago. It's been a gradual awakening, coming with every ugly moment with him. Yeah, it was an awakening that usually followed a slap or a barrage of hideous words escaping from his nasty mouth aimed at destroying my self-esteem. Fourteen years have dripped through my fingers like water and I'll never get any of it back. It's all been such a waste. I've lived with his ass coming in and out of my life like it's a revolving door on guard all the time anxiously anticipating his temper and unwarranted, undeserved demands on my body. For what, to keep the peace and exercise this bruised muscle of my pathetic existence? Basically. Over the years his absences from home have left all sorts of ideas running rampant through my mind. Divorce. Skipping town. Suicide. Murder. I've thought a lot about killing him. Arsenic was my first choice but for it to look like death from natural causes it takes too long. I've considered shooting him but I might miss and I wouldn't want to take that chance. I thought about burning the bed with him in it but he's a light sleeper and might wake up before I got a good fire going. So I've decided to try a more radical approach like reasoning with him and asking him to leave. That dirty shirt lying on the floor is the first greeting I get from Eric when I walk in. He's home all right. This is how it's always been, though. With him walking around the house like royalty leaving a trail of shit behind him and me crawling around on my hands and knees picking up after him because he likes a "clean crib ‘case comp'ny comes by." His grand entrance from the shower turns my stomach and my knees feel so weak I've either got to sit down or fall. "Hey baby," he sings out, then walks over to me and kisses me on top of my head. "They gotchu workin' late again? I tell you, them lawyers don't know how good they got it witchu workin' for ‘em." Condescending is not an attractive feature on Eric. I hate him. I hate all of him with all of me and a mental image of him filling up with toxic gases and exploding right there in the living room makes me feel just a little bit better. I know even before I open my mouth that I'll regret tonight. I know I'm going to wake the demons, disturb the sensitive molecular structure of this man's universe and set all hell loose up in this house tonight. But I'm blinded by my determination to stop the madness and put an end to this ridiculous circus called marriage once and for all. "Where have you been, Eric?" Not that I really care, but it seems to be the logical first question to ask on the "HCLCLDUHATBGD" (How to Confront Lying, Cheating, Low-Down, Unfaithful Husbands After They've Been Gone for Days) list.
"Oh baby...you know me," he grins.
On the 8th Day She Rested: Part 1 | On the 8th Day She Rested: Part 2 | On the 8th Day She Rested: Part 3 | Order On the 8th Day She Rested |
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