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Little Black Book of Eventually Read Secrets
Homemaker; The Red Bowl
She sits on her bed with a wet cloth held to her cheek, her face expressionless, her eyes dull. Underneath, a fresh cut, caused from her son hitting her in the face with a coat hanger when she tried to give him the Spiderman outfit she bought him today. She thought he'd like it...

She swallows hard, her face stinging, attempting to swallow her frustration. She reminds herself, albeit bitterly, that her son doesn't hate her. That when he hurts her, it's 'Nothing personal'.

Her eyes water as she throws the outfit on the floor. She'll try again later. He's just frustrated right now. He'll like it when he's not mad.

A crash comes from the kitchen beneath her feet, with swearing and the sound of things shattering. She jumps to her feet, looking to the door, before finally going down to solve yet another problem.

Her husband is cleaning up her dinner off the floor, her favorite dish is shattered in the sink. She asks about it, and is greeted with anger. She feels her temper spike, her frustration bubbling. She picks up the pieces of her bowl. You can't buy these anymore, she whispers sadly. He tosses it in the garbage. She asks if he's okay. He snaps that he burnt his hand. Her first instinct is to care for him, but when she goes to grab a cloth, he yells at her that he just wants to eat.

She feels herself go rigid as she looks at him. She feels her anger. She hasn't eaten all day, cause she's sick and can't swallow. She hasn't showered, because she's taking care of the ******** puppy and a baby. Her ankle, which is purple and swollen, is throbbing because she's constantly on her feet. She asked him to cook her favorite noodles while she showers and takes care of her face. He probably didn't even acknowledge that his wife got hurt. No. And he doesn't care, either, because just the other day, when she asked if he could fix something on the baby, he whispered in front of everyone in the room,

"Can you do something for once?"

Every morning, she makes his bed, and sends him a "ily" text so his morning starts off positive. She cleans the house, because she wants to make him happy. She labors in the kitchen, her ankle throbbing, to make him dinner. When he gets home, she tends to the children as he disappears upstairs for half an hour. In which time she gets the snacks and juice, she gets pulled on, kicked, hit, needed nonstop. When he comes down, she seats them and serves them...and then proceeds to not sit and eat, because she made him coffee, and their son needs a refill on his juice, and the puppy needs to go outside, and she needs to take care of her family...

By the time she sits to eat, it's dark outside, and she's alone at the table. She watches her reflection in the door, and eats her meal cold, because she's tired...

She does the dishes after, and straightens up the living room. She makes a bottle for the baby... And then she sits...

And as she shoves him out of the kitchen, angrily ripping the paper towels from his hands, she feels this. All at once. Why must she do everything? Why does she need to be a single mother? Why can't he just so something nice for her without her asking?

She gets on her hands and knees, and she scrubs the floor clean. And when she stands, his dinner sits on the stove...

She's defeated. Practically throwing his dinner at him, she goes upstairs. She turns the water hot.. And she stands with her head against the wall, and cries.

The homemaker... She's just so tired...

And she really loved that dish..

Azure Starwish
Community Member
  • [05/29/19 07:47pm]
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