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Author's Note:
This story contains disturbing mental/physical themes that may cause discomfort. Readers be advised.
This is Part 3 of 4. I am sorry for the delay, this story has been difficult to write... I greatly appreciate your feedback and patience.
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CHAPTER 5
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Tom's drinking had gotten worse in the months leading up to Ezra's departure. Once he was free of any childcare duty at nights, he stayed out late till whenever he wanted. Sometimes he didn't come home until way past midnight, and she only knew he had come back because he had begun to have sex with her while she was sleeping again.
Whereas before she accepted it, now, she tolerated it. She understood that it was futile, if not dangerous, to refuse him. As long as he didn't cause her too much pain, she could withstand him.
Deep down, however, she began to hear Maria's words from the cafe louder and louder.
Did he really care about her? Did he really care about Mia? Did he really value them as a family?
She thought she was certain that he loved them and was just temporarily lost. As time went on and his drinking worsened, she began to wonder if he was past salvation. Any mention of his drinking would immediately cause him to explode. She tried to talk to him when he was sober; he turned into a raging monster just as quickly.
Doubt slowly crept into her heart. The problem was, when one was deep in the abyss and the abyss was a slope, one does not fall a hundred feet all the sudden and feel the sharp pain. One slides, bit by bit, into further darkness. If she looked up, there was always a dim light up there, giving her just enough hope to hang on to.
Hope, she would later learn, was sometimes worse than hopelessness. When Mrs. Anderson returned two months later and Mia began to visit her house again, she felt hope. That small glimmer of happiness and calm brought her just enough joy to endure through another midnight intrusion in her sleep.
As she had expected, Ezra never called or texted her. From Mrs. Anderson, she learned that the prosthetic fitting went well, and he was progressing on track for his rehab. She said he ate well, slept well, and exercised well. In fact, he was doing so well that he was not coming back. He had reconnected with his Marine friends in San Diego and was going to work at the Recruit Depot once he, literally, "got back on his (new) feet".
Janelle felt a sense of loss when she heard that he was not coming back. The rational part of her felt happy for her friend: he made it. The emotional part of her felt lonely. He made it, and she was still stuck in the same hole.
* * * * *
Janelle opened her eyes and felt heaviness all around. Her head felt heavy, as did the rest of her body. The air seemed so thick with heaviness that it was nailing her entire body to the bed.
She had to get up, though. Mia needed to be woken up for school, then she would need to get groceries for the house before getting to Bright Horse for the lunch shift. Afterwards, it would be time to pick up Mia, come home, make dinner, put her to bed, then take a shower herself and go to bed again.
She had been repeating this same routine over and over for the last few months. Yet somehow, today, she just could not bring herself to jump out of bed and start the day.
Tom was snoring loudly next to her. He wouldn't have to get into work until 9AM and since work was only a ten-minute drive away, he often didn't get out of bed until well past 8AM. He never participated in any of the morning parental responsibilities and was certainly never a grocery shopper.
Janelle lied there in bed, unable to move. Her head was suddenly heavy with unspeakable sadness.
Why was she sad?
She tried to think of the most recent thing that made her unhappy. Then she remembered that Tom had gotten angry at her again for making his dinner wrong. This time, she used the wrong kind of cheese in the quesadilla. Tom was so upset that he walked out of apartment and drove away to eat at a bar. He came home well past midnight, drunk and horny, and demanded that she give him head. She reluctantly gave in.
There seemed to be a heavy sandbag on her chest. She could not breathe from the phantom weight.
I need to get up.
Janelle looked at the clock,
It is time to get up or Mia will be late for school!
Mustering all that was left within her, she dragged herself out of bed. Slowly, she made it to the bathroom and began to brush her teeth.
Her mind continued to drift in a heavy fog.
She had always enjoyed cooking so much, and yet, now, the thought of preparing meals was reduced to fear of using the wrong ingredients and being rejected.
When was the last time she enjoyed sex? Heck, when was the last time she actually had something that resembled sex?
Janelle felt her knee suddenly turn weak with realization.
"Oh god..." She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Unkempt hair, dark circles, and a certain lifelessness in those eyes.
She had looked at herself every day in the mirror for the past few years and somehow, never saw what she saw now. She had always thought she just looked like a sleep-deprived, grumpy mother. But today, a switch had been turned on inside her. She saw it clear as day.
I'm not happy.
Tears rolled down the sunken cheeks of the face in the mirror.
I'm not happy!
Her vision turned blurry with tears. She covered her mouth to muffle the terrified scream coming out of it.
Why did it take so long for me to realize this? How could I have fooled myself for so long, when Maria, my only friend, had known for so long?
She knelt down on the floor and wept silently. The realization brought immense pain, but also relief. The fog in her head had parted.
I need to leave.