Wednesday, March 28, 2007

GRUDGES Part 4.

That day, after mother left the house, she walked in dazed toward the bus stop, apparently intending to go back to her old house back in the countryside. As hubby ran after her, she tried to walk faster and as she tried to cross the street, a public bus came and hit her...I finally understood how much hubby must hate me, if I had not thrown up that morning, if we had not quarreled, if...In his heart, I am indirectly the killer of his mother.
Hubby moved into mother's room and came home every night with a strong liquor smell on him. And me, I am buried under the guilt and self-pity and could hardly breathe. I wanted to explain to him, tell him that we are going to have our baby soon, but each time, I saw the dead look in his eyes, all the words I have at the brink of my mouth just fell back in.I had rather he hit me real hard or give me a big and thorough scolding though none of these events happening had been my fault at all.Many days of suffocating silence went by and as the days went by, hubby came home later and later. The deadlock between us continues, we were living together like strangers who don't know each other. I am like the dead knot in his heart.
One day, I passed by a western restaurant, looking into the glass window, I saw hubby and a girl sitting facing each other and he very lightly brushed her hair for her, I understood what it meant. After recovering from that moment of shock, I entered the restaurant, stood in front of my hubby and stared hard at him, not a tear in my eyes. I have nothing to say to him, and there is no need to say anything. The girl looked at me, looks at hubby, stands up and wanted to go, hubby stretched out his hand and stopped her. He stared back at me, challenging me. I can only hear my slow heartbeat, beating, one by one as if at the brink of death. I eventually backed down, if I had stood that any longer, I will collapse together with the baby inside me. That night, he did not come home; he had chosen to use that as a way to indicate to me: Following mother's death so did our love for each other.He did not come home anymore after that. Sometimes, when I returned home from work, I can tell that the cupboard had been touched - he had returned to take some of his stuff. I no longer wish to call him; the initial desire to explain everything to him vanished. I lived alone; I go for my medical checkups alone, my heart breaks again and again every time I see a guy carefully helping his wife through the physical examination. My office colleagues hinted to me to consider aborting the baby, I told them No, I will not. I insisted on having the baby, perhaps it is my way of repaying mother for causing her death.

2 comments:

BJ said...

THIS IS SOOOOOOOOOOO TOUCHING

BJ said...

PLS POST THE REST OF DIS STORY

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