A Different Day

She didn’t know it yet, but today would be a different day. For most people, each day is naturally a little different but for her, the seven days of the week had meshed into two. Today was Weekday, the day before Not Weekday. She had woken up just like every other day. She woke up before him, quietly, he needs his sleep. She made him breakfast just like every other day. She made him coffee, eggs, and toast, quickly, he deserves to come downstairs to breakfast ready, he had “real work” unlike her. She kissed him goodbye just like every other day. But today would be a different day.

Her nerves collectively relaxed as she watched him drive off. She had made it through the first shift of the day without too many mistakes. Today, he only complained about the eggs. Most mornings, he hated her coffee too.

What a tyrant. Bad coffee wasn’t her fault. She just brewed it in the machine. Bad coffee is bad because it's bad. Well, maybe it was her fault since she bought all the groceries. He was right about the coffee. She wanted to be better. Her husband was a good man who always meant well. He worked hard and made good money. He never hit her… so there was that. She didn’t feel loved, but love was for girlfriends, she was a wife now. She often joked that she had enough love for the both of them. Maybe if the coffee was better...

She finished her morning house chores just in time for lunch. She made herself a sandwich, just like every other day. She made it with that special bread and no mayonnaise. She figured she would only eat half now and save the rest for dinner. He had called her “flabby” this morning. She washed the sandwich down with a glass of lemon water. She complimented the meal with her daily “supplements.” She didn’t even remember what they all did, but she trusted her husband and doctor’s orders. It used to take her so long but now she could finish them all in two swallows.

She got the mail today, like every other day. But today, the mail was different. Here was a letter addressed to her, but it was from an insurance company. Usually, she didn’t open the mail. Her husband handled everything from outside of the house including the mail. What if she lost something important? She could hear his words as she held the envelope.

“I don’t even think anyone knows you can read. Just leave the heavy lifting to me.”

His jokes weren’t really funny, but she would always smile just to see him happy.

She couldn’t resist. She scanned the many pages but worried she was misunderstanding the words. From what she could gather it was confirmation to reduce her life insurance policy. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like someone lowered it to $20,000. Could this be right? It was less than a tenth of what she thought it was. She should have waited for him to come home and explain this to her. She knew she should have listened to him. She left the papers on the kitchen table with the rest of the mail.

She hurriedly returned to her regular schedule. The excitement of the letter had thrown her off. She needed to get her day back in control. The house was clean but not clean enough. Her husband rarely ever noticed when the house was clean but always made sure to point out when it wasn’t. The door opened. The sound of dropping keys chilled her spine as it did every other day.

He stepped into the kitchen and immediately looked at the open envelope. He turned to ask her with a touch of disgust, “Did you open the mail? Whatever. I changed your policy for $20,000. Sign it.”

She automatically reached for the pen then paused, “Is $20,000 enough?”

“Cheaper premium. Don’t worry your little head.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It saves us a bunch of money. Plus… you know you’re barely worth that.”

He put on his pearly plastic smile, “Think of it this way. When you die, nobody will think I did it for some big payday. I don’t really need it. I have more than that in my safe. So yeah, $20,000 is enough. More would be greedy.”

She stood speechless. It never made sense to her how he could speak so confidently about outliving her when he was older than her.

“Are you serious?” The words came from a place of rage, but the words dripped off her lips a whimpering mutter.

“It’s a fair assessment. You don’t work, barely clean, and can’t cook. ‘Know your worth and more importantly your place.’ How many times did my mom tell you that?”

Her eyes sank to the floor. She was unsure what was most embarrassing, the subtle truths behind his words always justified criticism. She felt useless. He expected her to be a better wife. She wished she could be like his mother. His mother had just passed away that summer, leaving him money and her a special reminder.

I wasn’t always like this. Before she met him, she was fun, she creative, she was interesting. Sadly, as the days went by, she started to forget the woman that those words described. What did it even mean to be creative or interesting? She could at least still be fun, right? As she signed the papers, she rushed through her mind to think what could be fun. What could be fun?

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

She smiled with excitement. This plan was foolproof.

“I will bake you that special cake your mother used to make.”

“Bake a cake? How are you going to bake? You can’t even cook.”

“It be will just like your mother made. Remember, she left me her recipes.”

She ran to grab the little black book from her dresser. The book was more like a journal, filled with notes from his mother’s life. She had passed away while writing her memoir. It read like a laundry list of accomplishments as a mother and wife. She was a real woman. Most importantly, the book had a section dedicated to her family recipes.

Today was the day she would conquer the Caramel Chocolate Coffee Cake recipe. “Go. Have fun. It's Friday, go have a drink with the guys and come home to some cake.”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe even a little extra dessert after my cake.” He patted her as he grabbed his keys and walked back out the door. His words of temptation echoed in their own emptiness. The luminous flame that once was their love life, had been reduced to mere ashes. She couldn’t even think of the last time they got romantic. His thirst hadn’t diminished, but she had long suspected that he was getting it quenched elsewhere. She didn’t really feel attractive anymore, but attraction was for girlfriends, she was a wife now. She often joked that he was good-looking enough for the both of them. Maybe if she looked better...

As the door closed, her fingers raced through the pages searching for the important part. Finally, she landed on the page was marked “Caramel Chocolate Coffee Cake Recipe.” She blazed through the kitchen, a woman possessed. Grabbing ingredients, mixing bowls, pans, and much more, methodically return to the little black book. She had propped it open resting perfectly positioned on the table. From the center of the room, the magic flowed through her from the book’s satiny pages. Strangely, she felt the guiding presence of his mother’s spirit watching over her. She was agile like a gymnast performing a perfect floor routine. She dared to think that maybe, she had finally acquired her mother-in-law’s favor and approval. Simply the notion gave wind to her steps. Maybe too much wind, as she slipped, making her final approach to the oven. The cake mix flew everywhere, like paint, as she landed striking the back of her head on the cold floor. With the kitchen as her canvas, she had created a portrait of her failure.

The cake was ruined. She was cursed to forever live in the shadows cast by his mother’s shoes. She could feel herself drowning in the abyss every time she tried to fill them. Why had she left her this book? She felt the shadows closing in as it became harder to keep her eyes open. Her head throbbed as she lay lifeless on the floor. The smoke from the open oven didn’t help the cause. She lay there, slowly giving up, slowly giving in.

Her husband returned from the bar. He was too tipsy to drive, so he had gotten a ride from a nice girl he met the other day. But something was different today. As he arrived, it seemed that an ambulance and a crowd of people were leaving.

“Hey, this is my house! What’s going on?”

“Oh, man! There you are, neighbor! We tried to call you. Your wife fell in the kitchen with the oven on. The paramedics had to break down your door.”

“Where’s my wife?”

“Oh. She’s gone.”

The words took a second to register. He quickly stifled the delight coursing through his veins. He had to play it cool. He had to seem like the sad widower. He would wait for a least a month. The shamefully blissful thought of an extra $20,000 manifested a multitude of daydreams.

“What was that sir?” He stumbled to gather himself.

He had to play the part of concerned widower. “I guess I have to go identify the body for insurance.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry sir. I meant she’s gone as in left.”

The words took a second to register.

“Excuse me?”

He smiled, “Oh man! I can’t even imagine. Yeah, she’s fine.”

As he entered his now hollow home, he was greeted by a note on the table. The smooth touch of the page didn’t ease the rough landing of her words.

“I’m sorry this took so long but I finally read all of your mother’s little black book. I was always worth more than you were willing to give. I’m off to find my place, now I know it was never as your wife. Goodbye. No longer will I stand in the shadows of giants but instead on their shoulders. You can keep everything. I only took what I was worth, $20,000. No worries. I mean, you have more than that in your safe.”

He dropped the letter and ran to check his safe. It was gone, and so was she. His eyes sank to the floor. He was unsure what was most embarrassing. The subtle truths behind her words rarely justified her criticism. But today was different.

She was finally ready to live. Long gone were the days when he was her sweet prince. When she believed the promises of jewels and a kingdom of their own. She would have been fine just to be his queen. He was a tyrant who had entrapped her with fake smiles and false kisses. He rationed kind words like the last drop of water in a desert. No more. She needed a renewal.

No plans, no destination, no worries, and for the first time in a long time, she was free. Empowered by the wisdom of the little black book; and funded with $20,000 in cash, she left him and would never look back. She knew it now; today was a different day… and so would tomorrow…