A Face at the Glass

The first night that they spent together, they had sat by the fire on the shores of Lake Michigan and talked until the sun came up. They watched the sunrise as the fire died completely. He had made her feel like she was the only girl in the world. They had talked about what they wanted from a partner and whether or not either of them wanted children. They spoke of their dreams, aspirations, and long-term life goals. That was the beginning of a twelve-year long commitment to each other. Six years into the relationship, she had begun her journey to achieving her dream of owning her own portrait studio while they both worked odd jobs to pay the bills. Him not having his driver’s license put a damper on his journey to his dream of owning his own lawncare service. Their relationship had had its ups and downs, just like any other. There were times when they had no money and were struggling to pay the bills and had to borrow money just to make ends meet, which caused a lot of stress in the relationship and that stress caused a lot of arguments; and then there were times when everything was great, and they had no worries and even had extra money and during those times, there was no stress and no arguments. He began working in the construction industry and she worried about him every day. She picked him up every day around four in the afternoon, no matter the job site – that was quitting time for his boss. Until that day.

She relives that day in her mind, it is like being in purgatory. Yet, the gore is fascinating at the same time. Sometimes, she wonders if that is why she cannot get the image out of her head, she has always enjoyed a blood and guts kind of movie. “Sweeney Todd” was one of her favorite musicals. She is lost in her own little world – everyone believes that day broke her mind, but in truth. . . she doesn’t know how she feels about it. She has been feeling every emotion thought to be possible, she thinks so anyway. She is relieved that it was quick for him and in a way, she kind of misses him, despite his abuse. Sadness has yet to hit her, or regret, in all honesty she is relieved that he is gone. She knows that this makes her a heartless, selfish bad person. Yet, that seems to be the way she feels about it all the way around. She had been on the verge of telling him that they were through, had had it all planned out how she was going to do it. She was tired of his lies, cheating, and drinking; she was tired of his little jabs and then him claiming that they were just a joke. She was tired of being made to feel bad for doing things that she enjoyed doing or wanting to watch shows or movies that she enjoyed, and she had definitely had enough of him making fun of her Massachusetts accent. She was going to call him and tell him that she would not be able to pick him up that afternoon because her car had overheated on the way home from her eye doctor appointment earlier in the day and it was now in the shop to be looked over, but then his boss had brought him home for lunch that day and he had made love to her as if he could not stand to be apart from her and then had almost not gone back to work after, looking at her and smiling, kissing her repeatedly, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. When she had asked him “What brought this on?” He pulled her close again and kissed her hairline and said, “Something told me that I needed to.” She had brought him back to work and drove home wondering what was going on. She had wondered if he had another girlfriend again, she had wondered if he was planning on leaving her. She had harped on that thought for the rest of the day and had not been able to stop worrying about it. Then it was time to leave to pick him up from the job site.

All the way there she had had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something kept telling her that she should not be out there that day, she should have stuck to her plan and called him to say that she was not going to be able to pick him up. She could have come up with another excuse; but her heart had been filled with hope after their little ‘Tet-a-Tet’ that afternoon. She had thought that maybe he had finally begun to appreciate her, that he had finally begun to see her worth, that he had begun to truly love her.

Alarm bells of intuition were screaming in her head as she turned onto the road where he had been working all day; against her better judgement, she had ignored them. As she got closer to the job site, they grew so loud that she could not hear herself think anymore. That is when there was a tremendous boom and a flash of bright orangish-yellow light. At first, she thought she had hit something. Then debris started falling all around her van. That is when his face landed on the windshield.

Things have not been so great since that day. She has not been able to wipe the image from her mind. His face, the blank stare of one eyeball. She was in shock, in the hospital for almost three weeks; she sees a counselor four times a week now and a psychologist three times a week. She has twenty-four hours per day-mares, no sleep necessary for the traumatized. Now, that is all she can see when she closes her eyes, that is all she can see even when her eyes are open. Even sitting here, on the shore of Lake Michigan, staring at the moon reflecting off its surface – that is all she can see.