Page 3 of Beyond our Forever

But I still can’t get rid of the lump in my throat that’s been there for the longest time. All I want is to shut myself in my bathroom to cry, where no one can hear me, no one will know how I feel inside.

Because I have become an expert at masking my feelings, my pain, my frustrations. It is an art I have been perfecting over the years. Believe me, it’s been hard work.

And it was the vehicle that I drove down the long road which led to the downfall of my marriage, the end of my relationship with Bruce. We just faded away, not knowing where the love went. A love that had been etched in our souls for so long but got lost along with our intimacy somewhere along the way.

Yes, it was a strange case nobody had the explanation for. One day we seemed so happy, then the next I was kicking him out of the house. I was broken by the pain of those dreams that remained, dreams that would never be.

We bought the perfect house and made it our own. But now it feels hollow, empty, and not even the sound of our children can fill the emptiness. It could only be filled with love, the one that died without telling us.

It died of a serious illness called boredom.

It died between cold sheets.

It died between the kisses that we didn’t give each other and the touches that fell asleep on the palms of our hands.

It died and neither of us did anything to revive it.

It died and we didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Because it wanted to burn out more than we wanted to keep it alive. We were blinded by routine, by day to day existence, by everyday life. We got lost in our dedication to the children, to the household bills, him to his work, and me to keeping up my side of things.

The cancer of indifference killed our love.

But if it’s dead, why the hell do I feel so bad?

Martin’s voice brings me back to reality.

“It’s only going to be a few highlights to light up your face, nothing too dramatic, your hair will still be dark. Don’t worry, you’re not going to leave here as a bottle blonde,” he laughs. I try to do the same, but my laugh is almost a whimper as I feel more like crying.

Fortunately, he realizes that my mood is not the best and he lets me be, keeping himself occupied in doing his job and getting me out of the chair as quickly as possible. And with a good chunk out of my bank account. Beauty is pricey.

“Thank you for this,” I say to Emilia as I leave, because I really do look much better, even if I don’t feel like celebrating. “I wish I’d done it a long time ago.”

That’s true. If only…

My friend then brags about how she always knows best, so I should listen to her more often, that I should go ahead and open an account on the dating website she has recommended so many times. That I should go shopping with her one of these days.

But hey, one step at a time.

Isn’t that what alcoholics say?

“I have to go,” I hurry to say goodbye, kissing her on the cheek, “or I won’t be home in time for the kids, and that’ll be a recipe for disaster, the place is already a mess.”

Thankfully my children had some extracurricular activities today, which allowed me to take the four hours I spent sitting in that swivel chair.

“Forget about the house for once,” she shouts to me as I leave. “Nothing bad will happen just because there’s a little dust on the coffee table. It’s not the end of the world, Ilythia.”

Just before four, I take my place in the long line of cars in front of my daughter Ava’s school. She climbs in after blowing me a kiss, then begins talking non-stop about her day, boasting about her teacher’s great comments on the farm project she’s been working on the last few days, compared to her classmates’ work.

Dedicated and responsible, that’s my little girl, even though she’s only six years old and the youngest of my three children.

“Can you lend me your phone to call daddy?” she asks, as our eyes meet in the rearview mirror. “I have to tell him, the little clay animals he helped me make were the best, nobody could compete with me. Miss Wilson said so too.”

“You can call him from the house, baby,” I reply, concentrating on driving. I’m not in the mood to hear her talk to Bruce. “My bag is in the back of the car and I don’t want you getting out of your seat while we’re going to get your brothers.”

Ava’s mouth clenches in a thin line, but she doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Mom,” Aaron greets me as soon as he gets into my SUV. He’s my oldest son, and now the man of the house.

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