Guilty

Guilty by K.B. Butler

Tracey jumped when she heard the television hum to life in the next room. She would not feel guilty. Joe would be well into his drink at this hour and wouldn’t care what she did. He was a sweet man and Tracey loved him, but he was too drunk most days to bother with her. She tucked her coal-colored hair into her bun and secured it with a bobby pin. Taking one final look, she decided that she looked pretty enough. She would need to be at the station at 7:00 pm when the train pulled in. Again, she told herself not to feel guilty.

The last time Joe looked her in the eye was 1938. Tracey ran a hand down the front of her homemade dress and looked in the mirror. There wasn’t any fabric to be had but she did what she could with what she could find. Generally, it was a flour sack, and she was handy with a needle. Tracey was pleased with the way the corn-flower blue in the flowers on the dress brought out her eyes.

The screen door slammed shut as their three daughters ran into the house. Their middle daughter stopped in the doorway. “Where are you going?” Tina was naturally suspicious and very much a daddy’s girl.

Tracey picked up her purse and walked past Tina. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and left a dark red lipstick smudge. “I’m going to town. Where are your sisters?”

Tina leaned her gangly body against the doorjamb. “Jackie went to her room; Regina went to the kitchen. Why are you so dressed up?”

Again, Tracey thought Tina was too suspicious by half. “Dinner is on the stove. Make sure Regina eats.” Tina rolled her eyes at her mother’s request to feed her 6-year-old sister. “I’m going to the picture show.” Tina seemed satisfied with that answer. Tracey watched her blonde braids bounce against her shoulder blades as she retreated from her mother’s doorway.

The guilt rising in her throat threatened to choke her, but Tracey cleared her throat and walked out the front door. She hadn’t bothered to tell Joe where she was going or when she would be back. He wouldn’t remember anyway. Stanley would be waiting if she didn’t hurry. She never knew when Stanley’s letters would come but she anxiously checked the mail each day waiting for news from the frontline. She’d met Stanley Noble in 1941 when he’d been in town on leave visiting his aunt. They’d stolen several kisses with a promise of more. And now, they would finally have an evening alone. Tracey already had a motel rented for the night.

It was the first time Tracey had ventured outside her marriage. She married Joe in the spring of 1931. It was a small wedding attended by the aunt who’d raised Tracey and a few cousins. She’d been immediately drawn to Joe and his big, loud family. They’d been happy then. Joe was an artist and owner of a tire shop; things had been good then. Now, Joe was just an artist. He took jobs doing paintings and sketches for people’s homes. He loved art but he grappled with the depression that had plagued him his whole life. Now alcohol was what made him happy and she’d let him have it. Though he ignored her, he was a wonderful father, sozzled or not. All three of their girls loved him.

Tracey arrived at the train station at 7:05 pm, her stomach knotting with anticipation. She stood on the tips of her sandaled toes to see over the crowd. There were several uniformed soldiers on the platform. When she saw Stanley standing with a green bag in his hand, Tracey stood completely still. Stanley’s eyes quickly found hers, his face breaking into a wide smile. It was incomprehensible for Tracey to imagine such a friendly, open face shoulder-deep in a foxhole with an automatic rifle in his hands. Tracey was gracefully approaching 40 years old and his fresh, youthful face seemed out of her league. Stanley removed his olive-green garrison cap and twisted it in his hands. Tracey’s feet seemed to be cemented in place. Her lips parted but no words left them. She wanted to lift her hand and wave, but her arms were heavy. Could she really do this? Could she make love to this man? That was the plan. That was what they’d been dancing around for a year in their letters to one another. It wasn’t a big deal, she’d told herself, her husband didn’t care.

Tracey closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She anticipated seeing nothing behind her lids but instead, she saw Joe’s happy face when Tina was born; his eyes filled with tears as he thanked her for bringing their daughter into the world. She saw Regina’s crooked smile missing two teeth on her 5th birthday. She saw her family sitting in the front pew at church. The image of Joe smiling into the rearview mirror as he looked at their three little girls with love, flashed before her. She whipped her eyes open and ran toward Stanley.

When Tracey was close enough to look into Stanley’s soft brown eyes, she saw he recognized her indecision. Reaching out, she gripped his forearms. He searched her face, looking for an answer to his unspoken question. The shake of Tracey’s head was so slight, he almost didn’t see it. Stanley took a step back and placed the hat onto his blonde head. He gave her a sad smile and walked back to the train. Guilt wrapped tightly around her chest.

Later, Tracey stood in her kitchen looking out the window into the dark. She gripped the side of the sink and cursed herself. “No more,” she said aloud. She picked up the bottle of gin from the countertop and slammed it into the white sink spraying the kitchen with glass and liquor. No more. Things were going to change.