She was always distant. Throughout our marriage, I could never truly find a way to connect with her. She ran away from most emotional interactions that would arise in her life. I don’t think I ever knew her, or not in person at least. Just weeks before she died, though, she sent me a note. In this short work, she told me the story of herself. But, I hadn’t known that at the time. She’d always been a brilliant writer, and when I came home and found a few pieces of paper on my desk, I thought little of it besides it being another one of her recent works. Only now do I realize her intentions in that story. Only now can I see her cry for help. Far too late, though.
I
The Girl sat on the school bench nearby the swings and watched the kids run to and fro in the noonday sun. They climbed up the playground and slip down the slides, swung back and forth on the tire swings, and sat in separate circles talking about their small lives. She eyed a group as they neared her bench. And it was her bench.
The group walked up to her, a few sat next to her on the bench, the others circles around. The group began talking to each other and discussing the many meaningless things that they fancied at the moment. The Girl sat among them, listening to their conversations.
She didn’t care much for the topic at hand, but she wanted to talk, so she waited for her time to interject. As the conversation reached a short lull, she spoke up, commenting on what they had spoken of. The girls around her looked momentarily surprised.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey, we didn’t say you could with us on our bench.”
What? Had they not seen me? Had the girls not noticed me as they gathered at my bench? What was it with them? Did they think I wasn’t even worthy of their attention?
The girl next to her gave her a quick shove sending her off the bench. A few girls stepped back to make room for her body to hit the ground while the other immediately occupied her previous spot on the bench. The Girl pushed herself up, holding her scratched arm.
How could they just come in and steal my bench like that? Just like… like I was nothing!
The Girl staggered away, nursing her arm as she looked for not a bench, but a corner to reside in.
II
The date had been nice. Charles had been chivalrous and charming. He had taken her to a lovely pizzeria that over-looked the bay. Getting window seats, they had been able to enjoy their meal while having the sparkling water as a backdrop. She had enjoyed it.
After eating, they had strolled along the pier as the sun slowly fell into the sea. Holding hands, they leaned against the railings. They sat there, making small talk and enjoying each other’s presence.
They had only been on four dates, but after spending that time together, The Girl was near convinced that he was the one. She didn’t want to say it, but she thought she might even love him.
His phone rang, and after quickly asking to be excused, Charles slipped a few feet away to answer his phone call.
The Girl leaned out over the water, a smile on her face. The wind whipped her hair back and forth.
She looked over her shoulder, Charles was barking into the phone. Then he whispered something and kept talking to the person on the other line.
Turning her head back, she looked again out at the falling sun. The Girl wondered whom Charles was talking to and what was going on. She gave it a little thought and let it pass because she wanted to enjoy the night and not spend it thinking about what didn’t matter.
She turned around again. Charles wasn’t there. The Girl walked around the pier looking for him. He had disappeared. She started towards the restaurant when she felt her phone buzz.
She pulled it out and opened the text.
Charles: “i <3 u. But we wood never work. i hv som1 else. goodbye.”
The Girl froze as she read the text.
I… I… How could he? How could he just leave me like that? Has he any decency? Any heart?
She walked to the nearest bus stop, broken.
III
Pushing the bed covers aside, the Girl quietly set her feet on the ground, and silently walked to her door. She breathed with shallow breaths as she open her door and slipped into the hall. Moving slowly, step by step, she tiptoed down the stairs. She peered through the wooden railings. Her parents were in the kitchen.
They were talked on either side of the island in the kitchen. The Girl craned her ears to be able to hear what they were saying.
“This is it, I’m gone!”
“What? Just like that? Gone?”
“Jen, I have tried with you. I have given you the best years of my life, but you have given me nothing back! I don’t want to be with you anymore!”
“‘Given you nothing back?’ says the man who cared only for his own agenda and never for his wife or his family! And now you’re just leaving! What kind of a man can do that? Not a good or kind man I can tell you that!”
“Don’t even start with me!”
“And what about Aileen, your daughter, are you just going to leave her fatherless?”
“You know what? I don’t want her. I don’t want you, I don’t want her, I’m done!”
The man brushed past the woman, grabbed a suitcase in the hall and loudly pushed open the front door. A car started in the driveway and the woman in the kitchen slowly fell to her knees in a flood of tears. The Girl watched.
And that was it. The end. There are a few pages after that, but all of them blank.
I had never known. And now, I could never do anything about it.
I’m so sorry Aileen, my dear dear Aileen.
