Memories Of A Sinner

She wakes up chained to a pole in the middle of a field that’s slick with morning dew. Breathing in the earthy aroma as she struggles to sit her aching body up. Squinting at the endless sea of wheatgrass all around her and the wooded fence penning her in. Through cracked lips her call for help disintegrates in the humid air. The bellow of an unseen bull opens a pit of fear in her stomach. His muscular body comes into view as he walks along the other side of the fence approaching the locked gate in the distance. Groggy from fear and perplexed at how she got here, the vault of her memory bank opens and reveals its contents to her.

Her husband is playing video games after the eight hour drive home from their beach vacation when her phone alerts her to a new message on Facebook. Greedily, she snatches it up as she recognizes the name. It’s her high school boyfriend. Less than an hour ago, she had posted a picture of herself on the beach in a bikini with a big smile on her face. He’s amazed at how good she looks and after a few flirty messages she fakes a yawn and tells her husband she is going up to bed. Her husband offers to turn his game off and accompany her to bed, she says no, leaving him to his game as she turns her focus to temptation.

Flowing to the next memory, she lies on the bed posing in new lingerie. Snapping racy photo after racy photo to get one that she thinks will excite her boyfriend. Tires on gravel sends her out of her sensual reverie as she peers out to see her husband pulling in an hour before his expected arrival home. Annoyed, she quickly sends the boyfriend a photo before tossing on a sweatshirt. She goes downstairs, laundry basket on her hip, trying to appear busy. He takes her facial expression to mean the children have worn her out. Shoes still on, he sets down his laptop bag and takes the laundry basket from her. He tells her that he will take care of dinner as the children crowd around him, eager for his attention, as she slides back up the stairs, free from domestic duties.

The next memory makes her blood run cold. It was her husband’s birthday. Her stomach sank with despair as she walked into the kitchen to see him making coffee with sweats on. Reminding her he took the day off, she feigned eagerness over his special day. He had made some cheesy joke as she quickly picked up her phone to text the boyfriend to not stop by today. Recently unemployed, she had been taking advantage of the boyfriend’s newfound free days. Texting as the kids came into the kitchen, wearing grins and carrying homemade birthday cards. One card proclaimed Happy birthday to the best daddy in the whole wide world. As he hugged them, telling them how much he loved their cards, her toes curled remembering what happened in the kitchen only the day before.

She tells him that she has to run errands and he tells her that he is going to lunch with his mother. She picks up ingredients for his favorite dinner and grabs a cake at random, as her phone remains glued to her palm. Naughty words for her forbidden fling has her on cloud 9. In the parking lot, she spots his shiny red car and skips across the parking lot like a schoolgirl. He grabs her bottom as she pulls his mouth to hers. A car beeps, they don’t stop.

After he has eaten his favorite dinner and blown out the candles on his cake, she pleads a migraine. He tells her his best friend texted, she half listens, but hears enough to send him out the door. If he goes out, she can go out.

An hour later, her arms are around the boyfriend’s neck as she sways to the music. The bar is poorly lit but there is light enough for her to see her husband’s mouth hanging open as the hurt blankets his eyes. Releasing her hands from the boyfriend’s neck she watches him gripping a beer bottle as the color drains from his face. She stumbles, as she tries to launch forward to go towards him but the boyfriend grabs her wrist and she finds herself watching her husband storm through the exit with his confused friend following.

The memories stop and she scours her brain trying to recall how she ended up here. Approaching the gate is a figure in a long black cloak. Horns gleaming in the sun ,the bull follows. Unlocking the gate, unlocks the dam inside of her and she begins calling for help, asking why and pleading for reason.

Tears run down her face, as the bull and black cloak figure stand steadfast as the landslide of memories engulf her.

Her children, abandoned by their biological father, how they had welcomed her husband into their open hearts. They made him a father as he embraced his newfound fatherhood. How they thought he hung the moon and could slay dragons. How they hopped from foot to foot waiting for him to take them fishing or to ballet recitals. How he had a reservoir of patience for them and no ask from them was too big to tackle. How he had fallen in love with them as if he created them and how they had returned that love to him.

Memories of Saturday mornings, kisses on the forehead, being told it was her turn to sleep in. Hours later, stretching lazily in bed as he brewed a fresh cup of coffee in a clean kitchen. All the times he had cooked dinner or manned the grill during one of her migraines or when she was just plain worn out. The comfort he had given her when her father had died, holding her close when she struggled to fall asleep for fear of the endless nightmares. Rubbing her back as she waited for her test results at the hospital giving her a sense of serenity she began to think was impossible to achieve.

A seed in the pit of her stomach as she remembers how he bought her childhood home after her father’s death so she could raise the children in the house she had been raised in. How he had worked so she could stay home with her children and how he had never asked for anything in return. The car she spent months begging for, shiny in her driveway that Christmas morning. Infinite recollections of the times he had found ways to make her life better and easier. She couldn’t say the same for herself who was ready to push him away instead of just asking him to sit so they could have a conversation about what it was she needed. She had just been taking and taking for granted.

The seed sprouted as she realized she was feeling the warmth of gratitude and how foreign of an emotion it was. She never felt this and why not? Her mind raced, there were so many things to be thankful for. She didn’t have to work, which freed up her time to volunteer at the kid’s school and work on her small home business. Vacations, cruises, and the latest version of her cell phone. Her husband didn't cheat or raise a hand to her. Hell, he didn’t even raise his voice. He was considerate, he listened to her and for a long time, he had brought out the best in her. She had seen her husband as just financial comfort but he had comforted her with love and unrequited care.

The seed bloomed, pushing it’s stems up until she couldn’t breathe. She had cheated, lied and took advantage of someone but to her that wasn’t the worst part. She had not felt the things that a good person should feel. She had never thought to cut things off with the boyfriend or come clean to the husband. She did what had been easy over what had been right. Saying she was staying for her children and the extra income was giving them a better life. She sucked in a pained breath as the parade of wrong deeds went on. She was the sinner, the one who had turned her own soul black.

Realizing, she loved him and wanted to show him how much she valued him. That option now fluttered in the grass of the field as the bull and figure in black watched her. The flood of guilt and remorse poured it’s way out of her as she howled in pain. She repented as the tears fell and her vision blurred. The guilt and remorse had come at last but it was no barrier as the bull charged.