Showing posts from February, 2012

Dear Diary: Day 3 (fiction from the attic)

I trust by now that you can keep a secret. He’s dead.I expected him to put up much more of a fight, like they do in the movies; but no, one well aimed bullet really does kill a man.It wasn’t as dramatic as I expected.But it was more blood than I had planned for. Not enough to be a deterrent, he was already dead by then, but enough to make me think I should have done it differently.Maybe next time, if there is a next time, I will use a different method, a poison perhaps.I hadn’t even planned to do it, not that night any way.
The night started out as any other night.He wanted to talk about the state of our relationship, again.The last time we had this talk, he had decided he wanted to work things out and completely end his extra marital relationship.This time he didn’t feel that he could end the relationship cold turkey.Apparently, he was addicted. He had to be on something to have suggested we could work on the marriage while he sorts out his feelings for his girlfriend.
He had finally …

Nobody Likes a Rhymer

I don’t speak in clichés or sayings; at least not on purpose.
“Nobody likes a rhymer,” my son reminded me this morning.
Maybe I do at times speak in circles, parables, rhymes.At times it seems the most direct way to talk to a six year old is through stories, songs, misrepresentations and fabrications. I tend to prefer conversing with my children in terms I think they can understand—which isn’t to say that they always understand what I’m saying—just that I think that they do, or will, or should.
I also realize our communication is not always governed by the truth but by representations of the truth (usually mine). I find there are many intangibles and parameters.
“Are we going to the rec center before we go home?” My littest asks, again.We discussed this already, only moments before: after we run errands we will stop by the rec center to see what time he can play there. We discussed it while running from one store to the next store and again while strolling down one aisle after another.S…

Dear Diary: Day 2 (fiction from the attic)

The wonderful thing about marital problems is the sacred shroud of silence which protects those within them. You can talk to people about them, but sharing limited amounts of information is acceptable, even encouraged.That was how I was able to conduct guilt free conversations letting close friends know things were not going well, without telling them just how bad they were. I never discussed his affairs or mine for that matter. As far as family and friends were concerned we were working on improving the marriage. This delusion was necessary for my sanity as well as the execution of my plan. Believe me, this was not my first course of action, I sincerely looked at all angles, but this seemed to be either the most logical or the most effective, I can’t remember which.
Honestly I think he gave me the idea with his constant misinterpretations that I was reacting out of bitterness. Not to implicate him as an accomplice, unless one can be an accomplice in one’s own murder?

Dear Diary: Day 1 (fiction from the attic)

I swallow the bile taste of hypocrisy as I suggest marriage counseling. I want us to go to counseling to repair our marriage so I can be the one to leave him. How dare he have an affair. Sometimes I want to scream out “You’re not the only one having an affair!” There are times it threatens to bubble up unbidden, to rip out of my chest. Of course I could not allow such a thing, how would it look in court?
Marriage seemed a lot easier during the wedding.All of this attention to detail, if I was that good at taking care of details I wouldn’t have gotten married in Las Vegas.In retrospect I probably should not have gotten married in the first place, but like they say, you live and learn. Apparently it is true that marriage requires hard work and communication, who knew? When we started having marital problems I quite frankly did not know how to handle them.There was never just one thing I could put my finger on, but often something just didn’t feel right.I won’t say it was entirely his fau…