I should’ve realised that we weren’t going to make it on that sunny June afternoon when we were wandering around that big empty house in Essendon. Your eyes, those topaz stones I could never get sick of studying, were watching our future children playing in the garden (a boy first, you’d insisted, then a daughter). Your own face was childlike that day, so full of excitement and hope. You were babbling, saying things like, “Can you see yourself cooking me dinner in this kitchen?” You were envisioning a future that I couldn’t imagine, let alone see.
I tried. I wanted to want it too. All I really wanted was you but if having a kid or two was what I needed to do to keep you then that’s exactly what I’d do. But I was terrified. I was terrified of a tiny version of us growing inside me. Panicking over my sudden assumed role as “wife and mother” with no time to write, no room to breathe, no space to be. Internally screaming at the prospect of relentless mortgage payments. Fearing that our babies would inherit my sadness or my madness or both. Worrying about hypothetical meals not being served on time, accidentally murdering my orchids, forgetting to pick the children up from school and never getting used to the absence of silence. Frightened that I would be forever stuck in a life that isn’t truly mine, but reasoning that it’d be fine because I’d be stuck to you. Did I even really want you forever, or had I tricked myself into wanting what I was supposed to want? Had I merely deluded myself by dreaming someone else’s dream?
As I wandered around the house alone, I quietly considered which room I could end my life in if I chose to, assessing which fixtures I could hang from and wondering what the freestanding bathtub would look like with red water spilling over its edges. At least the crimson flood would complement the nursery which we are going to paint lemon yellow.
‘The Dream House’ is a rewrite of an earlier work. Originally published at Hijacked Amygdala here.
This is so deep and well written, I just can’t not read your posts, they always capture me
I’m so glad to have you as a reader :) x
Pleasure is all mine
This piece is bone-chilling. It reminded me of a short story called ‘The yellow wallpaper’ that I read ages ago. The sudden transition from wanting to make a compromise to doubting if your affection for your partner was authentic to begin with unnerved me. And the ending left me in shock. It’s very well written HLR. As always.
Ah I’m so glad someone picked up on the nod to The Yellow Wallpaper! Thank you so much for your comment xx
When I read that short story, I was 19. I was having a great time in college. I had a steady girlfriend, and I enjoyed my life. Never did I think then, that one day I’d face a similar reality. Life can be frightening, which is what you portray so well in your posts.