The Trophy Wife

Laura sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the shabby motel room. An old TV sat in the corner. The dust collected on it told her it no longer worked. The walls had been dyed yellow by the number of smokers who had used the room. Condensation ran races down the inside of the windows.

Laura shifted her weight on the edge of the bed. She could feel the slats through the thin mattress. She looked down at the small, worn rucksack at her feet. Inside was everything she had managed to salvage from her ruined life.

The motel was not that bad, she supposed. This was her life now anyway, living from one motel to another, always staying hidden and never using her name. The motel was the best she could afford. The type that didn’t ask for ID. Anonymity was her friend now. Hidden away, but free at last.

Laura reached down into the bag. Amongst the jumble of clothes lay the trophy. She picked it out, turning it over in her hand. That stupid chess trophy, that is where it had begun.

Laura was 17 and in 6th form when she joined the chess club. Her form teacher told her to mix and join some after-school clubs. Staring at the list of sporting clubs, chess seemed the easiest option. It wasn’t as if Laura didn’t have friends. She had several friends and spent time with a mix of people. At school, however, she preferred to keep to herself and study.

The following Wednesday, Laura was off to her first chess club. Her grandad had taught her to play chess when she was younger. She knew the basics but nothing exceptional.

That was Laura’s first mistake, but not the only one she made that day. Laura’s grandad had been a master player and had passed on great talent to his granddaughter. Her tutor was impressed with her skill. That was when she first saw the trophy. Mr Williams told her she would compete for the trophy at the end of the school year. Her second mistake was smiling at the quiet boy in the corner of the room.

Three weeks later, she was sat opposite the quiet kid with floppy hair. His name was Max. He was in the year above her, and until she entered the club, he was their best player. His name had appeared on the trophy four times; once more, he would keep the trophy for good. Instead of being mad that Laura could spoil his four-year run, Max was delighted she had joined the chess club.

Weekly practises together turned into daily competitions between the two. Before Laura realised it, they were inseparable. Max devoted every minute of the day to her.

The day of the trophy challenge came, with a friendly rivalry between the two. Both Laura and Max progressed through the early stages as expected. Before either of them knew it, they were sat opposite each other in the final.

Laura knew it didn’t matter. Their relationship was strong, even in its early stages. The trophy final was the best of 3 games. In the first game, Laura won easily. That’s when she saw a brief flicker of anger across Max’s face. If truth be told, she let him win the second game. Laura convinced herself she had imagined the look and won the last game. Max shook her hand, gripping it a little too hard and then vanished from the room.

For two weeks after the competition, Max ignored her and broke her heart. Then the phone calls, letters and presents started. He was sorry he had acted the way he had; he loved her; could she ever forgive him? Laura let him suffer for another month before agreeing to meet him. It was as if they had never been apart. Her old Max was back again.

On her 18th birthday, he proposed. Despite all the advice that she was too young, she accepted. By her 20th birthday, they had been married for a month and moved into their new flat. As a thoughtful gesture, the school gave them the chess trophy to keep. Laura placed it on the mantle, a happy reminder of their first meeting.

Their first big fight happened six months into their marriage. Max said she reminded him of his failures by having the trophy on the mantle. He picked the trophy up and threw it in a cupboard after he smashed up the dining table and chairs. This time, he didn’t hit her. Two months later, he did.

Max isolated Laura from her family and friends. He was always sorry after a fight. This never lasted long. As the dust collected on the trophy, the fights got bigger, as did the injuries Laura sustained. For ten years, she put up with the abuse until she was finally brave enough to leave the marriage. She packed a few things into her old school rucksack and finally escaped. She would never know why she took the trophy with her.

Sitting on the motel bed, she thought about the irony of it all. A trophy had brought them together, but she was the actual trophy to Max. Now, all ahead of her was a life of running and anonymous motel rooms. She was making money where she could to survive and keeping one step ahead. It was worth it to escape her life of torture. She licked the end of her finger and wiped the trophy. She must have missed that speck of blood when she had washed it.

God, it had felt good in the lounge holding the trophy above her head. Repeatedly smashing it against Max’s skull. She was free, free at last.