This week's pieces of the week feature our senior tutors, some of whom represent our very first HWC tutors. We wish them the best of luck in all that they do, and especially in their writing!
The dark, heavy night air consumes John,
The dark, heavy night air consumes John,
No lights illuminate his path, yet he continues to walk,
lost in thought.
How could she be dead? How could she be gone?
Squinting, strained eyes open. John rolls out of bed.
Snuggled up in the silk sheets, a woman lies in peaceful
slumber,
Gentle snores and the chirping of birds. Thoughts churn
throughout John’s head,
Trudging into the bathroom he notices something on his hand.
A number.
Cold water
splashes against his face. He grabs a bar of soap and begins to scrub,
Ink blurs. Numbers deform. Memories are revisited. “Honey?”
A momentary scramble. John turns off the faucet and twists
the shower knob,
“Good morning Heather! I love watching you sleep. Your nose
twitches like that of a bunny”
“How was your night John? I fell asleep before you came
home.” No answer.
Heather hops out of bed and prances towards the bathroom.
“Jooooohnny!
What’d you do last night?” His response included no mention of the
dancer.
“Late night meeting with the guys. Poker and business talk.
Hulled up in a corporate room.”
His heartbeat does not quicken. His tongue does not falter.
This is not an unusual course of events. Heather is
undoubtedly fooled.
Satisfied with his work, the shower shuts off. Drip. Drip.
Drip. Goes the water.
Heather twists the knob . She doesn’t notice the glitter on
the floor, where the water has pooled.
John handles their money, since he is the breadwinner,
He thinks he’s got it all figured out. What she doesn’t know
doesn’t hurt her.
He blames his expenditures on poor luck in poker. The
pathological sinner.
The love that he buys must be
hidden. It’d do nothing to her mind but torture.
Expect the unexpected. This is
what John didn’t do.
A cold spoon. Frozen peas.
Friction from a hairbrush. Nothing did the trick.
A love mark had been left. And It
wasn’t from his boo,
Dark, contrasting, and evident.
The evidence couldn’t be erased from his neck.
Wind howled against the house. Lightning,
Flash! Thunder. Boom!
The noise startles Heather. Now
awake, she puts on a pink shirt, decorated with frills..
She throws together a delicious
breakfast for her and her husband to consume.
John’s day begins with the scent
of hot cakes in his nostrils,
The storm continues to gain
strength, pelting the house with rain,
John walks to the kitchen. He hugs
heather from behind, and pours himself some coffee,
“This is some good coffee babe.
Some caffeine in the morning always keeps me sane.”
“I got it at Starbu--…What’s that
John? That’s not from me.”
“Heather, you gave me this shirt
last year for Christmas. How could you forget?”
“Don’t play dumb. That hickey.
That hideous mark on your skin.”
To cut the tension in the room one
would need a machete, I bet.
“Oh the mark on my neck? My friend
burned me with a cigar last night. It’s no sign of a sin.”
“You are going to be honest with
me right now, John. Don’t lose my trust.”
A plethora of potential lies
bounce throughout John’s skull.
“I.. um… I’m sorry Heather. I
bought her love. It was a mistake. A small case of lust”
Heather froze in a state of
disbelief. Was there marriage a sham? Were their vows null?
John tried to approach her. “I’m
so sorry baby.. It won’t happen again.”
Heather didn’t hear him. Her eyes
grew cold and lifeless.
“I know I shouldn’t have done it
Heather. I lost control. I thought I had free reign.”
“HOW COULD YOU?!” She bursts into
tears. She buries her head in his chest.
The charade was over. Life
continued on. But nowhere near the same.
John continued with his ways, but
began to feel unfulfilled,
Purchased love no longer satisfied
him. Not without the love of his dame.
He tried to mop up the mess. But
the beans remained spilled.
Heather had lost her capacity for
affection. She couldn’t love him the same.
She had died that morning. Her
soul died, at least.
This was something John couldn’t
grasp. He thought he still had a chance.
He showered her with gifts and
promises. Trying to overshadow the beast.
He took her to dinners and to
movies. He took a class to learn how to dance.
John truly did try. He knew he
needed her love.
But all of his efforts were in
vain. His attempts were all ignored.
His tender touch had been replaced
by an unfamiliar surgical glove.
Of course, John didn’t understand.
He thought she must simply be bored.
He took her on extravagant
vacations to Paris and Venice,
He thought it might spice things
up and wake her from her trance-like state,
They flew from the US to Europe.
And back. And again. Like a game of tennis.
There and back. There and back.
His efforts had come far too late.
One night in Paris the air stood
deathly still,
John slept in the Hilton, unaware
of what was happening on the balcony.
Heather balanced on the railing.
But she was chasing no thrill.
Contemplating her own fate. She
heard a familiar voice. “Honey?”
Some unknown force had caused John
to stir in the night.
He was alone in bed. He noticed
the door to the balcony was cracked open.
She probably was just up late
thinking. She certainly has the right.
But he had no idea. His final
words to her had been spoken.
He heard a thud. A few seconds
later- someone screamed.
“Did you hear that Heather? Is
everything okay?”
John was answered by an eerie
silence. Something was definitely wrong, it seemed.
He finally got up and walked out
to the balcony. Heather was not there, to his dismay.
Something wasn’t right. He leaned
against the railing. Just like Heather moments before.
He peered down. He saw a crowd.
And then he saw it.
A lifeless body. He knew it then.
His wife- Heather, was no more.
He still didn’t grasp that she was
gone the instant she discovered his nasty habit.
The dark, heavy night air consumes John,
No lights illuminate his path, yet he continues to walk,
lost in thought.
He had proceeded through his life with reckless abandon.
He continues to walk. Abandoned. Yet upon himself this was
brought.
The moon seemed to mock him as he peered down into the lake,
It provided just enough light for him to see his own
reflection,
His own image was something that he could no longer take,
But the moon persistently continued to illuminate his
complexion,
John has no choice but to live with his past actions,
He gave up true love for meaningless nights of affair,
He chose the wrong way to deal with extramarital attraction,
He didn’t appreciate his wife, his love, his Heather.
Although Heather died the morning she discovered John’s
sins,
John was tormented by false hope, only now, the learning
begins.
He used to think he had it all.
John had his cake and he ate it too.
It took death to teach him that
love can never be shared by more than two.
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