House Of Cards: Part One

 Monique felt sick at heart.  Once again he’d come home drunk and high; she hoped he’d just go upstairs and sleep it off.  She was tired of making excuses for him, hiding his addictions from their son Gib, and phoning in sick for him.  Tired of cleaning up his messes.  Gib was fast losing respect for his dad, and no wonder; she had lost respect for Jake as well.  The pain in her heart found its way to her head and she searched in the kitchen cabinet for an Advil to kill the pain.  If only life’s messes could be fixed by a pill. . . 

 Her thoughts trailed away –  wishing she’d been more discerning before marrying Jake, wishing she had heeded her mother’s and grandmother’s warnings, wishing they had been married in a church; wishing, wishing, wishing.  She washed down the Advil with a glass of water, and then sat down at the kitchen table.  Maybe she should eat a soda cracker or two with the Advil . . .  Putting her head in her hands, an old saying she’d heard somewhere came to mind:  “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”  

 Hot tears threatened to erupt as her mind replayed her mother’s words: “You’ve made your bed; now sleep in it!”  The memory still cut.  For the first time in a long time, she felt regret she’d chosen to distance herself from her family.  She felt so alone.  Hadn’t spoken to her mother or grandmother in years; somehow it just seemed easier to go on living without the entanglements of a meddling family and difficult relationships. What was it she had heard her grandmother say once?  Her head throbbed.  “Build your house on the rock, Monique; a house built on the sand is no better than a house of cards.  It’ll be destroyed by the storms of life.”

 Now she was living in that proverbial house of cards.  A house that would surely crumble and be scattered to the wind if it blew any harder.  She toyed with the idea of leaving Jake.  But if she did, what would happen to Gib?  How would she make a home for the two of them?  She was already working long hours at a job that drained her. 

 What would happen to Jake?  What would it do to him?  Would he spiral out of control even worse than he was now if she left him or told him to get out?  Where would he go if she did throw him out of the house?  Was there hope of getting a new start, a solid foundation, a house built on rock, like her grandmother said?  Were there any second chances?  The questions swirled through her head like the spiral arm in a slushy machine.

                                                                    To be continued. . .

Copyright © 2012 Elaine Beachy