PYHO A short story.

 Pour Your Heart Out

Disclaimer:  My marriage is fine.  I wanted to write something, and this is what came out.  A part of me fears this woman.  I think everyone feels this way at least once in awhile in a relationship.  Plus....PMS.  It's a bitch.

She’s starting to feel him pulling away.  It’s like that invisible cord that keeps getting tauter.  You could pluck it it’s so tight.  When the relationship is easy the cord is loose, it just hangs there, barely noticeable.  But he’s pulling, tugging.  Eventually it will unravel, break. 

Fucking money.

She refuses to be one of those couples.  How goddamned cliché.  But he’s hiding things from her now.  He’s afraid if she finds out about the money, she’ll want to spend it.  She will “blow it” on crap.  Hiding.  Lying.  Omissions.  Lack of trust.  These are the killers.  Turns relationships into retaliationships.  She doesn’t want to hate him.  She loves him too much.  Her heart is breaking. 

She cries and tells people it’s allergies.  Lies.  They start to become natural.  Like breathing.  Then, when he asks “What’s wrong?”, and she says “Nothing.”, it’s no longer a lie.  Everything is exactly as she knew it would be.  He won’t love her anymore.  He looks at her as a disappointment.  Not the person he thought he was committing himself to.  Someone less than that.  Same old, same old.

She knows she’s flawed, broken.  She knows that, but instinct makes her fight to be right.  She puts her flaws out there and says “cast the first stone, motherfuckers!”  They won’t.  Not real ones.  That’s so old school.  They’ll talk about her though.  He’ll talk about her to other people.  She won’t know, but she’ll suspect.  She throws out some self-deprecation to see what the response will be.  It will be a knowing smirk or a full on accusing snort.  “Yeah, we already know.   He told us.” 

This can’t be really happening.  She’s been known to make stuff up in her head.   She’s been known to blow things out of proportion.  It’s her disease.  Everything’s magnified.  Every word, every expression, every snub, every glance.  They’re all open for interpretation, and she’ll pick them apart like a vulture until nothing’s left but bleached bone.  “Don’t do this!”  She should just talk to him.  She’s scared to find out.  She’s scared he’s going to hold in what he really feels until one day it breaks, the cord, snaps and rips her open, old school, like a whip.  Her insides will be on full display for all to see. 

Her disease.  It eats away at her.  She’s crazy and she knows it.  They think she’s lazy, a poor housekeeper, a mediocre mom, but some days the energy just to keep all the crazy locked up and her chest from tearing open is all she has to work with .  There’s nothing left over.  “Get over it.”  Fuck you.  She’s tried.  They don’t know where she’s come from, the abyss she came from.  She climbed out of a hole so deep, she wasn’t sure she’d ever see the light of day again.  She did.  IT was miraculous.  IT was the most wonderful thing she’s ever seen.  But every now and then, there’s a cloud that hangs over her, and she can’t just shoo it away.  Sometimes hours, sometimes days, sometimes a month.  She can’t control it. But, it can’t rain all the time.  Lame, right?  She’ll talk to him.

…….To Be Continued.