writing from
Scars Publications

Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the
108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book
Gone Fishing
Down in the Dirt, v173 (the July 2020 Issue)



Order the paperback book: order ISBN# book
Down in the Dirt

Order this writing that appears
in the one-of-a-kind anthology

Outside the Box
the Down in the Dirt May-Aug.
2020 issues collection book

Outside the Box (Down in the Dirt book) issue collection book get the 422 page
May-Aug. 2020
Down in the Dirt
6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

order ISBN# book

Order this writing in the book
2020 in a Flash
the 2020 flash fiction & art
collection anthology
2020 in a Flash (2020 flash fiction and art book) get the 296 page flash fiction
& artwork & photography
collection anthology
as a 6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

order ISBN# book

Letting Go

Alison Ogilvie-Holme

    She can feel his grip tightening just as hers slackens. Guilt has immobilized her far too long. Now, preparing to let go, she berates herself all over again – each moment measured in silent betrayal.
    Out of nowhere, he proposes a family vacation.
    “Somewhere down South. Away from the cold and snow. We’ll pull the kids from school for the week and cocoon ourselves together in the sand, the Davis family sequestered in paradise. Whaddya think?”
    “I don’t know, Ray. Is it really a good idea to take off right now? Hannah and Joe have exams at the end of the month, and you’re always saying how nobody can manage at the office without you...”
    He cups her face in his hands, thumbs stroking the curvature of her cheeks. It is an intimate gesture from long ago that serves to both soften and irritate her in the same instance. Where has this man been hiding over the past ten years of their marriage? Why must he make a sudden re-appearance now, spoil the denouement with a confusing plot twist?
    “Alright,’ she relents ‘but only for a short trip, five...maybe six days at the most.”
    “Thank you, Angel. It will be worth it. You’ll see.”
    In the end, they settle on a Caribbean cruise. Plenty of onboard activities to keep teenagers entertained, or at least contained. She tells herself that this is it – the final act. One last memory for her children to file under “family” before “divorce” becomes the new norm. She convinces herself that coming here was the right decision. After everything is said and done, there can be no question of her attempts to salvage the marriage. She deludes herself into believing that time is infinite. Another week of waiting cannot erase her plan of escape.
    “Mom, why did Dad bring us here?” asks Hannah on day two, fingers splayed as her mother applies pink nail polish.
    “What do you mean, honey?”
    “Like why does he give a shit, all of a sudden?”
    “Hannah, don’t say that! Dad loves you. He just wants to be with you.”
    “Since when?”
    “Since forever. Your father has an important job. He works hard to provide for you, and sometimes, that means less time together. This is his way of making up for it.”
    “Whatever.” Hannah concedes. She rolls her eyes skyward, lowering aviator shades over constricting pupils. Ear buds are swiftly inserted before her mother can launch a further defence.
    Day three finds Joe playing tennis with his Dad once again. A slow smile transforms her son’s cerebral expression. He blossoms under Ray’s attention; a wilted flower basking in radiant sunlight. Much as she tries to support Joe, there is something about the approval of a same-sex parent that is impossible to duplicate. Gratitude stirs up powerful emotions within her walled fortress, tiny fissures rocking the foundation.
    By the night in question, a fragile equilibrium exists, almost as if her family has taken a secret oath of unity. They tread cautiously on feelings and tiptoe around conflict. Sibling squabbles have abated for the time being. Even Hannah begins to thaw. There is an air of occasion to the last dinner aboard ship.
    “To my wonderful family,’ toasts Ray in a booming voice ‘And the woman who holds us all together, my beautiful wife, Endora.”
    “To Endora.” Echo voices from neighbouring tables. Suddenly, she has stepped into an ill-timed romantic comedy.
    She bows her head in embarrassment, face burning. Wine goes down easy on a dry throat. He grasps her hand and she wonders if he can feel her body tremble or hear the frantic beating of her heart. How can she abandon him?
    Shortly afterwards, the alcohol takes effect and life turns hazy. She is not a drinker. At 100 pounds and five foot two, she cannot afford to be. Sleep proves futile. She thrashes about while distorted images pollute her brain, the word ‘homewrecker’ spelled out in neon lights behind shuttered lids. The clock reads 2:45 when she finally slips out of bed for some fresh air, leaving Ray to hog the covers in peace.
    Cool, night breeze rushes through her lungs and helps to mitigate waves of nausea and self-doubt. Leaning forward against the railing, she looks up at the stars and prays for clarity. Some sort of sign. Scorpius catches her eye for a brief moment before pain implodes, her world shrouded in darkness, she breathless. He kisses her one last time before relaxing his grip and letting go.



Scars Publications


Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.




Problems with this page? Then deal with it...