Did you ever want something so much it drove you nuts? Check out, Michele. What she wants, she needs. And she has no choice but to get it. Enjoy Part 1 of this short story. See how ordinary people get into trouble that is far beyond their imagination.
PART 1
MICHELE DINKINS SWALLOWED TWO DIAZEPAM PILLS. She cupped her hands under the running faucet and filled them with cold water. She splashed it on her face. She then filled them again and drank it.
She leaned on the counter and looked in the bathroom mirror. An older woman stared back at her. Not the forty-year-old that should have.
Stress was eating her from the inside out. It was stress beyond any measure that she had ever experienced. Dealing with it had to wait. There was a more pressing issue to handle. And it could not be put on the back burner.
“Okay, lady,” she whispered to her reflection. “Get this show on the road. Don’t fail. You can’t fail.” She exhaled and adjusted the waist of her skirt. “Come on. Don’t give up. Be firm.” She walked out of the bathroom through the bedroom. Ready for a fight if need be.
Rick was in the family room.
“Rick,” she said. “I want the house.”
Rick pointed the remote at their LG 65” Class CX flat-screen television. He called it the Lamborghini of televisions.
He had just turned the football game on. It was already in the second quarter. He had wanted to see this game all week. He was not going to miss it to talk about a ridiculous house. A house that they could not afford in the first place. They had talked about this three times in one week. He was not wasting any more of his life on it.
“Did you hear me?” Michele asked. “We’re buying the house.”
“No, we’re not,” he said. “I told you. We discussed it. It’s too damn much.”
“We paid two thousand dollars for that penis extension,” she said and pointed to the television. “That was for you. Not me. All I want…”
“You want a house, Michele,” he said. “We’re already in one. As I said, give it two years and we’ll consider it. But not now.” He stood up and tossed the remote in the leather chair. He went toward the kitchen.
“I’m tired of you bossing me around,” she said. “And don’t turn your back on me.” He kept walking. “You hear me? Rick!”
He kept walking.
“Damn you,” she said.
Michele squeezed her fists and looked around. Her mind churned. What now? She ran after him and kicked him in the back. He shot forward and stumbled into the kitchen counter.
She looked at her skirt. It was split down the side.
He looked around, shocked. “Are you nuts,” he said.
She looked frantic and picked up the ceramic frog on the counter. Her six-year-old daughter made it for her. She threw it at Rick’s head. He moved to the side and tripped on his feet. The frog hit his shoulder and spun him to his left. He lost his balance and fell.
“That’s it,” he said. “You’re a crazy bitch. I’m filing for divorce and full custody of our kids. You’re unfit to be a mother. You’re not getting anymore chances. That was it. You’re a danger to yourself and your family. You drink too much. I told you that.”
She could not believe the sequence of events. She had kicked him. Then she threw a ceramic frog at his head. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Hell no,” he said. “You assaulted me. No. Your apology isn’t accepted. It means nothing.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Please. Please.”
He walked by her. She grabbed his arm. He jerked it away from her.
She followed him into the bedroom. “Please,” she said.
“Forget it,” he said.
“Please, Rick,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you ask. I don’t know what happened. I don’t. I have anger issues. I’ll get the counseling. I promise.”
I hope you enjoyed PART 1 of this short story. If you did, please pass it on to a friend and follow me on my blog.
We have made it to the middle of the week.
Take care.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
Thanks,
Stephen Wallace
Stephen Wallace 