Invisible

Sarah was her name. She had married him 30 years or so ago. Was it 28 or 31, she could not remember. She chose not to remember in reality, after all, why should she count the years, they had gone past so slowly and now she was 63. Married. Unhappy.

Sarah had always loved the countryside but in her heart, she was a townie. She loved seeing her friends, going out to the cinema or eating out with her girlfriends, but that had been along time ago. She now lived with him. His choice, a big, draughty house, with windows that rattled every time you opened the front door, the breeze passing by, causing a stir, the dogs then barking as if the wind were a banshee. The dogs, that's another matter too. She had always had a dog when young but that was at home when she was a little girl. She had lost touch with her friends, now she was up that hill, far away from people, but near the hens and the dogs and the trees. He had been the one to get her dogs, to 'keep her company' while he worked away. What company ? Could she go dancing with a dog, or out to the cinema with a dog ? No. But she could stay at home with the dogs, alone, in that souless house, drifting from room to room, drink to drink, dog to dog. She felt powerless.

Sarah had been a career woman, she had built her own company from scratch, mixed with professionals, worn a suit to work and what's more, she had bought her own place, on her own. She was bright, passing all exams with flying colours, completing her degree and then living it up as young people ought. But then she met him and it all changed. She had a baby; was she really mother material ? She had never bothered to ask, but she had always been maternal and now was her chance, after all she was past 30 and would she have the opportunity again ? But everything changed. She sold her business, sold her house, bought the house on the hill with her partner and then one by one, stopped seeing her friends. 24 years she had been living on that hill and 24 Christmases had come and gone.All of them with just the two of them in that house.

It was New Year's Eve and it felt like any other day.

She heard him enter the kitchen.

'Have you forgotten about me. I have been on the sofa, waiting for my drink. where's my beer ?'

She had been staring out of the window, reminiscing about friends, about the good times she used to have and she had forgotten about the beer.

' I was just looking for a bottle of it....' she muttered, only to have him finish her sentence, 'Well, I suppose I might as well get it myself now I am here. You know I am gluten free so I can't drink this muck you've got', he barked as if she were clueless. She looked at the bottle in her hand, she had got the wrong type of beer. He looked at her as if she were useless. She felt faint,the blood making her feel dizzy, she reached out to the worktop and as she did so, she dropped the bottle. Could it get any worse. She looked down and the glass had shattered and splattered over the once-clean floor. ' Well' he said ' if you think I am going to clear that mess up, you've got another thing coming. I have been cooking all week and I am not lifting a finger today'. The clock chimed midnight,she got on her knees and swept the glass up in her hands. She did not care about the mess, she did not care about her hands, she did not see a new year ahead, just the old ones repeated. ' Happy New Year to me' she whispered. Could he hear her, may be not. She took a shard and held it lightly in between her fingers, walking to where he sat. The feelings of loneliness and isolation took over her senses. She did care after all. Not about him, but about the future. This year, this brand new year would be a new beginning, a dawn of new experiences.She would make sure of it.