Oblivion Series

Paisley

I’ve often wondered what happens next in those they-lived-happily-ever-after stories.

Girl meets guy. They fall in love. Guy loses girl. Girl cries. Guy finds girl. They get married, have a bunch of kids, and they live the blah blah blah life.

Well, I was that girl. I finally got to live my fairytale. Married my Prince Charming and got lost in perfect happiness. I was oblivious to everyone else or the world surrounding me. That was my first mistake.

We had the most amazing wedding. It was like that of a fairy princess. I had a full white gown, hell I even had Cinderella’s horse and carriage. It was perfect!

We had a romantic honeymoon on the white sands of Jamaica. Sun, love, laughter…everything.

We came back to reality to a little home surrounded by a white picket fence ready to start our family. So, what’s the problem? Sounds like heaven, right?

Well, let me share. My happy fairytale ended exactly one week after we moved into our home.

I had run out to the store. A twenty-minute trip tops. However, when I returned home, I noticed my Prince Charming was home early. I couldn’t stop the smile on my face…until I walked through the door.

There, in my living room, were my prince and my ugly stepmother. It’s my mama, but you know, for the effects of the story I’m sharing.

They were going at it as if there was no tomorrow, like it was the air to keep them breathing.

That was the moment my happy sunshine bubble filled with fluffy white clouds and unicorns dancing on rainbows burst. It was a nightmare I needed to wake up from.

At some point, I managed to walk to the kitchen. Dropping the grocery bags on the counter, I held on for dear life. I had so many different feelings going through my mind.

I briefly closed my eyes, and once I reopened them, I noticed something I could only describe as a halo of light that surrounded my knife block.

I could hear voice’s singing “aaahhhhhh” as I stepped closer. I reached out and selected a large knife from the block—the meat cleaver—with Crocodile Dundee’s voice running in my head. “Yeah, that’s not a knife…this is a knife.”

I grabbed the bottles of lighter fluid and the matches from the drawer and headed back to the driveway through the kitchen door.

I stood before his beloved Mercedes and placed the flammable liquid on the ground. I then pulled my arm back, and with as much force as I could summon, I forced the cleaver into one of the tires.

An instant hiss erupted, and I watched the tire deflate. However, it was not what I was hoping for, so I grabbed the bottles of lighter fluid and poured it, making sure to squeeze every last drop over the vehicle.

I struck match after match and placed them in the car. I then walked backward toward the front door. I took a seat in one of the chairs on our wrap-around porch.

Within seconds, the scorching flames belted out into a mesmerizing dance, enchanting, and yet hypnotic.

Finally, a window shattered under the intense heat, and a moment later, cursing sounds came from inside the house, closely followed by the stampede of feet heading my way.

“Oh, my God!” Mama cried.

“What the fuck? Call the fire department now,” he bellowed in reply.

“Who could have done this?”

“I don’t fucking know”

Neither one noticed me, not that they had even noticed I was home. Sirens blared in the distance; it sent shivers through my body.

Mama wraped her hands around his waist. He pulled her in close and kissed the top of her head.

“Awww, your pretty car,” I called out, giving away my hiding spot.

They snapped their heads in my direction and quickly unfolded themselves from each other. Shock evident on their faces.

“Baby, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” I deadpan.

My mother shifted nervously on her feet as two fire trucks and a cop car arrived.

“Oh please, don’t stop on my account.”

“We’re not doing anything,” she nervously replied.

“No. Not now you aren’t.”

Oranges, yellows, and reds fought an intense battle against the white rush of water. Everything dulled around me as I lost myself in admiration of my work.

“Ma’am…”

“Babe…”

“Oh, my God! What’s wrong with her?”

I focused once more on what was happening around me—Mama was sobbing on the floor and dickhead was staring at me with wide eyes.

All I could do was smile before I turned my attention to the officer.

“Ma’am, do you have any idea who could have done this to your husband’s car?”

“Why yes. Yes I do,” I replied, returning my gaze to the inferno.

Nothing else made any sense. A switch of sorts had flipped. I was numb and confused…yet enlightened.

I made a vow to myself.

No other man would make me feel weak, helpless, inadequate, or fragile ever again. I would be the one to break hearts and to toy with emotions. No one would ever get close enough again.

I took what I wanted and left. Who gave a shit about what people thought? I didn’t care anymore…I was taking control.

***

Happy Birthday to me. Not that anyone cares.

I’m alone. In Texas. No one to talk to, no one to hurt me. Just like I thought I wanted.

I didn’t anticipate the loneliness. That part slipped right past me, but I’m safe with a roof over my head and no sign of my ex-husband or my mama to break my heart anymore.

I’ve been hiding out on the ranch my daddy built when I was a little girl. I don’t know if I’m ten years old or twenty years old or a hundred years old. I can’t tell anymore.

I only know sitting on the porch all alone is not the start to the new life I imagined.

I look up and smile. I’d forgotten that I could almost see heaven from these steps. Now, with Daddy gone, it’s all mine.

An ache of loneliness burns through me, and a tear trickles down my cheek toward my ear. I let the sadness wash out of me.

This isn’t the end of my story. No. This is just the beginning.

I wipe my eyes and look up, wishing I could see Daddy one more time, that he could see me now.

“God, I miss you so much. And I know you’d know what to do. I just feel so danged lost.”

Daddy had been the perfect mixture of Andy Griffith and ~Father Knows Best~. Plus, he had a black belt in dealing with Mama’s brand of crazy.

Although he hadn’t quite managed to immunize me to her tantrums and narcissism. He tried to be the buffer between her and me. I owe him so much I’ll never get to repay now.

“You know, Daddy, you should have just let them take me. Then maybe you’d still be here. Every damned thing turned to shit when I lost you.

“Do you have any idea what I went through when you were gone? Do you know how angry I have been? Did you watch how they all lied to me about that day?

“You sat up there on some fucking cloud when I had to walk in on Mama and Mush at it like a pair of rabbits?

“I hate you for what destruction was left behind. I hate you for making me feel so alone.” The tears fall as the anger within me builds stronger. “I hate that after everything I still love and miss you so much.”

I’ve been living here for eight months. No one comes by to check on me, to say hi, or to kick back, watch TV, and drink cheap wine with me.

To be quite honest, I don’t even know if there’s a single soul who knows I’m here, except maybe the electric company and the mailman.

Actually, that’s a lie, after all, there is London. Now that girl puts the cray in crazy.

I close my eyes and let the tears fall, throwing my right arm over my face. It’s my twentieth-fifth birthday—the first without so much as a phone call from Daddy—and I don’t know what to do with myself.

A cold nose presses against my skin, and I pull my arm away to see Buster, my eight-month-old Great Dane. Turning on my side, I curl around my not-so-little puppy and run my hand over his belly as I continue to watch the night skies.

Hours pass before I finally convince myself I might be cold. Pushing off the ground, I pick up my cell and blanket so Buster and I can head back into the house.

As much as I love this place, my chest aches as I missing the simplest things—the smell of fresh pancakes and Daddy whistling off-key as he tried to flip them with the benefit of a flipper, his “world famous” meatloaf, and Daddy. Period.

I wash the dishes and clear my leftover food away, continuing to lament my sad lot in life. I even remember to take out the trash because this is country living and I don’t like critters coming in searching for food.

While I’m out there, I catch myself staring up at the stars again and shake off my silliness. Only eight months ago, I’d resolved to be my own woman, not depending on anyone.

Now, I’m star-gazing like Orion is gonna come on down and teach me to make friends again.

Speed walking back into the kitchen and rubbing the goose bumps off my arms, I check Buster’s water bowl. I turn off the lights as I walk through each room.

Nothing has really changed in the house. Everything is more or less where Daddy left it—right down to the morning paper still folded on the arm of his favorite chair and his tobacco tin on the side table.

Sighing, I shut off the last light and make my way through the dark to the steps.

I might as well lock myself in my room, pull the comforter up and disappear. No one would notice except a hungry Great Dane and the whirlwind that is London.

Instead, I pat the mattress, and Buster crawls onto the bed beside me.

“Just you and me, boy. Just you and me.”

He answers my whisper with an enthusiastic snore. What more could I expect?