A Cry in the Distance

Glass crashed across the walls and to the floor. Boxes and cans fell off their shelves and spread their innards across the granite tile. Furniture was toppled over and red fell and soiled sleeves. Drunken breath shoved frightened eyes into dark corners and wild hands beat black and blue upon fair skin.

It was a usual Saturday night at the edge of the friendly cul-de-sac. Quiet, except for the soft sound of cars passing in the background. Soft rain fell from comfortable clouds that hung drearily in the darkened sky. Pleasant. Calm. Lovely. No one heard the cry in the distance.

Heavy boots stomped clumsily up stairs trailing angry swears. She kept to the ground for fear of his return. Half an hour passed before she picked herself up and washed her face in the sink. Tinted water swirled down the drain. Tears slowly rolled down bruised cheeks. She brought herself to the couch and fell to sleep with much difficulty.

Expletives were her alarm to open her cloudy eyes. He was cursing through the kitchen searching for Advil amongst the mess. “Why hasn’t this been cleaned up yet?” She slowly rolled off the couch and peddled softly into the doorway. He turned and saw her puffy face, analyzing it for a moment before continuing his search. “Where the hell’s the Advil?”

She sighed and walked towards a cupboard above the sink, retrieving a small bottle from the bottom shelf. She smacked it against the counter and quietly walked upstairs to take a shower. The hot water stung at first as it flowed down her face, but began to sooth after a few minutes. She didn’t step out for another half an hour.

He had gone to work by the time she was getting dressed. She went throughout the house and tidied things here and there. After a couple hours of cleaning and organizing she sat down in the recliner and shut her eyes. She let her thoughts wonder for awhile before coming back to reality.

Her cell phone was buried deep within her purse. She fished for it, shoving cards and wrappers and papers and accessories to the sides. Through her contact list she found MILLY, a friend she’d has since high school. The phone rang on the other end as she leaned on the kitchen counter with her cell pressed firmly against her ear. The ringing stopped for a moment, silence, and then a click. “Hello darling.”

She talked with Milly for nearly two hours, pacing about the house. She caught up with her old friend for the past few months they hadn’t spoken. They laughed and shared gossip and talked about the things that people talk about. Before the conversation’s end, she had to tell her secret of her husband’s inebriated abuse. Milly was stunned, and begged her to come stay with her, or anywhere but where he would be able to hurt her.

She explained how if she left him, he’d find and kill her. If she tried to divorce him, he’d kill her. If she tried anything at all, he’d kill her. Milly sat silently on the other end of the phone, hearing of her friend’s demise. “I don’t understand how he became like this. He loved you so much. You two were perfect. Remember how everyone in school joked how you two were like Tristan and Isolde? We thought you’d taken a love potion and became inseparable from each other. You were so happy then.”

Tears ran down her eyes and she remembered these fond moments in her life from years ago. There was another long silence between the receivers. She wiped her cheeks and silently spoke, “I guess I’m still waiting for my Tristan to really come. Someone whom I can truly love and who will love me forever. I’m still waiting for him.”

Milly asked what she was going to do, with which she got no answer. She hadn’t thought about doing anything, as she knew what the consequences would be. Her husband had become a creature who lived in the house with the sole purpose of terrorizing her each night and then sleeping in her bed. They didn’t talk anymore. He never kissed her or said he loved her. It had been months since they’d last made love.

He didn’t want children anyway. And long ago he had drunkenly told her that there was no point in shacking up unless you planned on bringing little brats into this hell hole of a world we lived in. He had smacked her around good that night. Telling her if she ever got pregnant he would take care of it for her. She had done nothing but cried all that night.

With reluctance Milly hung up the phone and let her friend go back to her desolate wasteland. She went upstairs and laid herself on the freshly made bed, and let herself wonder some more. Her mind was filled with thoughts that made her smile. She stumbled through scenarios and ideas until finally sitting up with wide eyes.

That night she was lying in bed waiting for him to come home. From downstairs she heard the door slam shut and his mumbling voice crawl slowly up the stairs. When he came into the room he clumsily pulled his boots off and flung them into the corner. She got out of bed and helped him take his shirt off. He grumbled and pushed her aside but she didn’t let up. She unbutton his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Slowly unzipping his pants and shoving him onto the bed. He smacked her a few times, but she continued to whisper in his ear and caress his body.

This routine was attempted at least once a week for the next several months, but was often times replaced with the usual punching bag scenario. But she toughed through it bravely and finally gained the courage to sit her husband down one weekend afternoon to have an official and sober conversation.

She slapped a stack of papers on the table and threw a pen at him. He took a sip of his coffee and looked up at her. “What’s this?” She explained they were divorce papers, and that she wanted out. He slammed his cup against the table and stood up in her face. “There’s no way in hell I’m divorcing you! You’ll try and take every nickel I have and that’s not damn near much at all!” He threw a fit, like a small child; however, she expected as much. She sat herself down in the chair across from him and folded her arms on the table. “If you divorce me, I promise to take only what’s rightfully mine and no more. I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never have to see or speak to me again. But if you decide to stay married to me, I think you better know where all those nickels will be going to from now on.” He sat there with a fire in his eyes. Slamming his hand on the table, “What? What are you going to do with my money?” She smiled at him and looked him gently in the eyes, “We’re going to have a child.” He jumped back, knocking his chair to the floor. “A kid? You’re pregnant!? No! No, no, no. I’m not doing that. I can’t afford a kid.” “Then you can afford the divorce I’m offering you,” she said as she slid the papers closer to him.

He picked up his chair and sat down, looking at the papers for a long time. He slowly went through all the text and signed where he needed to sign. Milly came over a short time later and helped her pack her bags. She left that house with a smile on her face, and went on to stay with her good friend until she was able to get herself on her feet.

Months passed until she found herself in a hospital bed below bright fluorescent lights. The sound of doctor’s coaching and machines beeping were swallowed up by her screams and cries of pain. It only lasted so long, and then relief fell upon her like she’d only felt once before when he had signed on the dotted line.

A cry in the distance. Her baby was washed and wrapped in a blanket and placed gently in her arms. A beautiful boy, looking up at his mother with wonder and confusion. She cried, large tears that rolled around her smiling lips. She kissed her son and held him close to her chest, rocking him slowly. “My Tristan has finally come”, she said. “And I will love you forever.”