A Whole New Life

“And why didn’t you buy more beer?” Harmon asked for the third time, raising his eyebrows. His eyes had an unfocused look. He was drunk.

“I told you. I’ve been too busy.”

Michael and Amanda Rice, Harmon’s brother and sister-in-law, were watching the scene, embarrassed.

“Busy doing what?” He said in his drunk voice, the words barely intelligible. “We have guests, and we don’t even have enough beer. It’s embarrassing, Emma,” he bayed, far too loudly for the deadly quietness of the room. “I feel embarrassed,” he insisted.

An awkward pause fell on them.

“I’m sure it’s those stupid classes of yours,” Harmon continued a moment later. “ You suck, Emma. You’re never going to be a writer. You suck,” he spewed, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Did she tell you?” He asked, turning to Michael and Amanda. “She wants to be a stupid writer.” He stressed the last word. “She says it helps her escape. Bullshit! Escape what?” He laughed his stupid laugh, a laugh Emma had come to know so well—and despise.

Harmon continued spitting insults for the next hour. The guests’ embarrassment escalated with Harmon’s blood-alcohol level.

“What kind of stories are you writing?” Amanda asked Emma later that night.

“Dogshit.” Harmon burst out laughing, amused by his own witticism.

“Harmon, I think we got your point,” Michael said tentatively.

“We’re going to go now,” Amanda said. “It was a very nice dinner, Emma. Thank you.” The couple stood up.

Harmon chuckled in the background and said something about how he almost choked on the chicken because it was too dry.

“No problem, Amanda. It’s always a pleasure to have you here,” Emma said, ignoring her husband.

Amanda and Michael left.

“Are you happy with yourself?” Emma screamed at Harmon. “You embarrassed me, AGAIN.”

“Watch your language, woman,” he said. “You want to show me some respect.”

She stormed off the living room and half-ran to their bedroom. She couldn’t contain her tears. Not for the first time in the eighteen years of their marriage—and probably not the last, she thought—she wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t married Harmon. Once again, she started daydreaming about the life she could have had. In her dreams, she was free to go anywhere in the world, to be anything she wanted to be. A writer, maybe? She could have kids… Her sobs intensified—but they were always just quiet enough so that Harmon wouldn’t hear them.

What if she could travel the world? She would explore the riches of other countries, smell the aromas from around the world, and taste the flavors of exotic foods. She would hear other laughs, see people smile... She would be free. And, most importantly, she would be herself. When had she last listened to her heart? For the past eighteen years, she had been committed to being the perfect wife to Harmon and the perfect housekeeper.

Tonight, however, she felt something new burning inside of her, a powerful feeling that had just awakened. Underneath the usual shame and sadness, she felt resentment pulsating in her head; worse, she felt hatred toward the man who had stolen her life. He had humiliated her many times before, but tonight, he had done it in front of an audience. The humiliation cut deeper. At that moment, it felt like she couldn’t spend one more second in this madhouse.

She went to bed late that night. Her eyes were throbbing. Her mind was roaming, thinking of all the possibilities that laid ahead of her. Everything seemed possible then.

As she lay next to Harmon, she realized how unpleasant it was. She couldn’t stand to hear him breathe so loudly, and his obnoxious odor disgusted her. She barely slept.

She spent the next morning in a sort of daze until Harmon left for work. He said something about washing the bed sheets and making sure she used the lavender detergent and not the rose one. She barely heard him.

As soon as he was gone, the rage came back rushing, knocking her so strongly she was surprised by its force.

Now is your chance. Get out of here. Quick.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh as if the voice had spoken aloud and not just in her head. “How could I even do that?”

If you don’t leave now, you’ll never find the courage to do it. Here is your chance to do what you’ve always wanted to do. Seize it.

The fact that she was seriously considering it scared her. Her whole life was in this house, in this town. She didn’t know anybody else. Where would she go? That was ludicrous!

But then she heard Harmon’s stupid laugh. And she saw his grin—a grin that meant Oh, Emma, you’re dumb, but I forgive you. She hated it. But worst of all was the laugh, his stupid laugh.

Emma closed her eyes as if she could make the laugh go away by doing that. When she opened them again, her thoughts were much clearer. She got up off her chair with such force that she almost knocked over the breakfast table. She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding, and then she got moving.

She dug out an old duffel bag and blindly threw a few clothes into it, not thinking. She went to the bathroom and did the same thing. Suddenly, she was seized with an unreasonable fear that Harmon would come back home any minute.

Maybe he forgot something when he left this morning.

Urgency clenched her guts. She began moving even faster, wanting more desperately than ever to leave the house.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she told herself aloud.

She went to the living room, and grabbed her wallet and her purse. She headed for the door. She opened it, and a feeling of peace ran through her body. She was terrified but felt exhilarated. She left the house without locking the door, singing in her beautiful voice.

She had no idea where she would go or how, but for the first time in eighteen years, she was happy.