Sausage

I wake this morning to my colorless life yet again. Shrewd in shades of black and white and gray, I find a certain dullness to my life that I didn’t feel was present recently. I’ve done everything to fulfill my life: marry a good man, give birth to two beautiful children, and spend my days writing when I’m not taking care of the house. My life is nuclear and unchanging. And I love it. But today, today is a different story. My life has always been colorless, it has never been quite like this. The walls are now staring at me, begging me to tear them apart. To bear my teeth is not something I’ve done before, but I can’t help but feel the longing to as of recent. I bite my finger, that should satisfy the yearning I feel deep inside. 

I finally got out of bed and tucked in my side. It’s 5:00 am and I’m behind schedule. What has my life become? I shower and brush my teeth and put on makeup. I feel like a doll and my appearance reflects that. Maneuver me however you must, I don’t mind. I don’t mind this role of housewife. I don’t mind it at all. I walk to the kitchen and begin to make breakfast. Tommy likes his eggs scrambled with dark edges and a hard center. Sarah likes hers sunny side up. I serve their eggs with freshly baked toast and sausage. I wake the children and bring them downstairs. I pour them freshly squeezed orange juice and I watch them while they eat. I wonder how one would make sausage. What a weird concept, I have no clue how someone would come up with it. Meat packed into a thin layer of casing, a concept I couldn’t have thought of myself, that’s for sure. 

I pick up the kids plates and cups and forks and tell them that if they’ve finished their homework they can watch an episode of Looney Tunes. They squeal with delightment as they run upstairs to get dressed. Looney Tunes always got them excited. It got me excited too because I could just leave them be and maybe have a moment of peace. But then I remember my husband. My husband was not a very caring man. But I still loved him anyway. He wasn’t a horrible husband, I had just always hoped for more. Out of my life, I’d say he’s the part I regret least. For the past 10 years, he has given me and my children a support system one could only dream of: money flowing in, no late nights, no arguments, nothing. My life was perfect. But my husband felt nothing towards me ever. So, he wasn’t very caring. 

I ran to put on his morning cup of coffee and scramble his eggs, but I already heard his footsteps descending. I was too late. The eggs were in the pan, I could pass it off, but his coffee was still roasting. I brought out the cream and sugar. His footsteps shake the house. I placed his cup at his spot. They get closer and closer. I grab the newspaper and put it on the table. The shaking has stopped. Instead, I hear an echo. Good… Wife… Coffee? I tell him the pot is almost done as I finish his eggs. I put them on his plate. He reads the newspaper. I wait for his coffee. It finishes. I pour his cup. He kisses me goodbye. He leaves with the kids. The house is empty and yet again I’m left alone. I clean. I listen to music. I wait for the clock to strike 1:30. Everything is nothing until then.

I hear the ding. It’s time. I walk to my children's school. I wait outside the gate while the other moms judge me for my attire. I feel the world collapsing on me. But then, I see my beautiful Tommy and Sarah. They come running out of their classrooms, down the hall, all the way to the gate. We walk home. Tommy and Sarah run around me while they play with the plants. It’s a short walk, but walking with them makes it feel like I’ve spent an eternity in this mind numbing dullness. I love my children, but sometimes I want to strangle them. I just wish my life were different. I wish I became someone else besides a wife and mother. Or, I at least wish I would be a better mother with prodigy children and a husband with a high paying job so I didn’t have to worry about anything. My future and my present would be set. But, I’m stuck in this middle class meritocracy with my lovely idiot children.

We arrive home. I make them sit and do their homework while I pour them glasses of water and serve them orange slices and pomegranate on a platter. They eat the fruit so passionately that the juice runs down their arms, making their fingers sticky. I take them to the bathroom and wash their fingers, their hands, their arms. I let the soapy water trickle down their arms and I scrub and scrub and scrub until their arms are clean. I have them change their shirts and go back to homework. I sit and watch them. I don’t know what to think about anymore. I don’t know anything going on in the world. I just sit here. With nothing in my head. Then the phone rings.

Hey honey. I’m going to be late coming home. Keep my dinner warm will you?

That was it. That was my final straw. If my life is dull, then so should everyone else's be. I want to break free of my black and white world, I need to break free. I grab Tommy and Sarah and I drag them to their room. I tell them to wait there as I run to my room. I grab my gun. I wait. Two bullets and they're gone.

That was the first time I had seen color in a long time. There was such a deep red spilling out of their hearts, I thought I was going insane. The walls speak to me again. They tell me to hide their bodies in them, but I can’t. These are my babies. I hold them and I cry. After a while, I drag their bodies to the kitchen and I eat their fingers.