The Mornin' After The Night Before

Pippa opened her eyes as the rising sun spilled into the room. It was the morning after the night before. With a numb brain, for just a second, it felt like overnight the history of everything had been deleted. Sleep after a traumatic emotional event does that; it resets the whole shebang. Except it only lasts a second then the pieces start to fall back into place again.

There had been a row, an almighty thunderous storm. Plates were smashed and glasses were thrown. Doors were slammed and the worst words were hurled out into the air, words that can never be taken back. In memory they will stand as testimony for all time. Then as the last pieces fell into place she remembered the violence; a beating, blows struck about the head. Then a well-timed punch thrown past the hands held up in protection. Straight through the guard into the nose, a crunching sound, then the spurt of blood, lots of blood. As each memory came flooding back she can see his face, Jon’s stupid face.

Pippa grimaced with that last memory.

Clambering out of bed and feeling slightly unsteady on her feet she went over to the window and looked down onto the drive. Jon’s truck was gone.

This confused Pippa. After the punch he had stormed out. She had then crawled up to bed. Lying in the dark for hours full of regrets and what ‘should have beens’ and boiling over with anger, she had heard him return. Pippa had felt relieved. She listened intently to him tidying up and putting right the cosmetic damage. She had listened until she could hear no more. After the last noise she waited. Listening for the first steps on the stairs, she imagined the bedroom door opening and his silhouette standing there in the half light.

No footsteps came.

Eventually she fell asleep.

Still staring back out of the window at the truck sized space, she knew what Jon was doing. He must have gone out for flowers and breakfast. He would return with a box of croissants and delicate pastries and apologies; endless apologies. Pippa felt the anger of last night come shooting back. Jon was not going to control the narrative. Throwing on some clothes she was going to go downstairs and cook breakfast. Homemade pancakes with bacon would cancel out shop brought treats. Then his gesture would mean nothing, it would even be insulting. He would have to work harder to make last night right.

Pippa descended the stairs tying her hair back into a ponytail. She would start with the pancake mix, she smiled remembering there were blueberries in the fridge. She would start straight after she had got a pot of coffee on the go. Turning into the kitchen she froze. The room was immaculate again, the carnage of the night before vanquished. This is not what Pippa had noticed. There on the kitchen island was an envelope. An envelope with her name on it.

Sitting at the island she held the envelope in her hand. It trembled as she struggled to gain the courage to open it.

Pippa,

Of all the things I was accused of last night, I accept the title coward.

Last night words got twisted and the space to explain myself got lost, misunderstood or warped.

So like the coward I am, I will do it this way.

I have never lied to you; I have instead chosen to not tell the truth.

Maybe it is the same thing, maybe it isn’t.

It is true I have a secret. It is a secret I have kept for many years. It is not our secret, it is mine. It is not a gift for us to share. I have fought hard to keep this hidden.

You told me you thought I was a mystery, you thought it was one of my most attractive features.

That was your lie.

No one loves a mystery, they only love to solve that mystery.

You told me last night that this secret hurts you, as you feel you are not worthy of the truth.

Maybe you are not, I don’t know.

My ‘lie’ as you call it, is self-protection.

You keep telling me it is the source of your pain. In a way that must be true but what if this ‘lie’ actually alleviated pain. Not just mine but also yours.

A wise man once said, “If you want to keep a secret you must hide it from itself.”

We live in a world where all our truths are subjective, the clever can twist your ‘truths’ into any shape and fashion they desire.

The truth will set you free.

I hated you when you said that last night.

In your world the liar is the villain. In mine he is the prisoner, trapped and caught by the weight of it.

This secret you so desperately want me to reveal is my jail, my torture and my sentence.

It is a brand seared into my flesh and a chain placed around my neck.

Unspoken and unknown it is the key to my freedom, my respite.

What you refuse to understand is that a good man can have and keep a secret.

If I release it into the world, I will no longer be Jon. I become the secret. Nobody sees me for who I am anymore, they will only see me for what I chose to leave unspoken. Why would I want to become the very thing I have chosen to keep hidden?

Pippa we are at a crossroads.

The first turning is towards me telling you everything and no longer being Jon.

The second is it stays unspoken and last night will repeat itself and you will grow to hate me; more and more with each passing day.

I am going to take the third option. I am driving away over the horizon. The coward’s choice.

By the time you read this I am gone. I am back on the road looking for the next town to try and set down roots.

Sorry for failing you.

Take Care

Jon x

She had gone too far.

Pippa slumped into an armchair with her head in her hands. She could feel the tears flowing into the cracks in her fingers.

He had moved in six months ago and everything had been perfect.

Then there was the secret, it started as a harmless question that he refused to answer. That question led to more questions. Then like a cancer it just grew over two weeks.

Like a sink slowly filling with water eventually it was all going to come spilling over the top.

That was last night.

Last night, she had thrown the plates and glasses. His refusal to retaliate incensed her. She got so mad at him for the incitement. She saw his silence as some smug entitlement. He just stood there and took the onslaught. The cruel words spoken were the worst. No matter how much she screamed, he just absorbed her fury like a sponge.

That was what made her snap. That was when she started hitting him. He did nothing he just curled up and tried to protect himself. The weakness in his response just made her madder. Then she broke his nose. There was a second there where she thought he was going to retaliate. He stood up and looked at her with a grey steel in his eyes. He just grabbed his jacket and turned and walked out the house.

She had gone too far.

She had lost him.

This is from a longer piece I have been working on. It is supposed to be an introduction to a character that exists for the first half of the story only in the background, his character and story is told through other people’s recollections. While a second character (not Pippa) tries to find him. It is about how the pieces of a jigsaw no matter how many you put together, will never let you see the complete picture.

Anyway, thank you for reading my story.

I publish my stuff independently for no other reason that I would rather these strange ideas that rattle around my head from time to time have a place to go. Hey, better out than in.

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