Gotta Write

Every so often I’ll post a bit from the book so you can see that I actually am writing, and not just writing about writing.

Here you go:

     As people started filtering in for the meeting I overheard a couple of ladies having a conversation.  I didn’t know them personally, but from what I gathered one of them was leaving work early today to get ready for her vacation with her husband.

     “He’s so adorable,” she gushed.  “He didn’t even tell me he had booked the vacation.  He called Rich to make sure it was okay for me to take the time off from work.”  I assumed she meant the same Rich who was the head of Acquisitions.  “Then he called my parents to make sure they could take the kids for a few days, and then he called the travel agent!”  She was quite enthusiastic.

     “He is so sweet,” her friend agreed, nodding enthusiastically.  There was a lot of enthusiasm in this conversation.

     “I guess he just knew I needed a vacation,” she said wistfully, and then sighed.  She was smiling broadly and glowing a little.  Her friend seemed to be basking in the glow as well because she was smiling broadly too.

     My mind started racing.  Was this what it was like to be in a happy marriage? Was this what it was supposed to be like? I knew that Thomas would never go to such lengths to make me happy.  Did husbands really do that sort of thing?

     “What’s it like?” I asked, and then once I realized that I had said it out loud I figured that I had already embarrassed myself enough so I should go ahead and ask the question so I could get an answer.

     The two women didn’t realize that I was talking to them, so they kept chatting to each other pleasantly.  I said it louder this time:  “What’s it like?”

     I said it loud enough that everyone else who had filtered into the room stopped what they were doing and looked at me.  They weren’t sure what I was talking about, but now they were curious to find out what the answer was.

     The vacation-bound woman looked at me.  “I’m sorry?” she said, not understanding what I was asking.

     I cleared my throat.  I could already feel tears starting to well up in my eyes, but I was too determined to get my answer to feel any embarrassment.  I spoke loudly and clearly so she could understand my question.  “What’s it like to be happy?”

     If someone had dropped a pin on the ground at that very moment, the sound would have echoed in the room because it was completely silent.  It didn’t stay silent for long because I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.  I put my head in my hands and had one of the best cries I’d had in a very long time.  It didn’t take long before I heard murmuring, and then eventually I heard movement in the room but I didn’t look up.  I was too busy wallowing in self pity.

     I felt some hands on my back.  I had no idea who was comforting me, but I was grateful.  I looked up and it was the two women who had been chatting.  They rubbed my back and waited for me to compose myself.  Everyone else had left the room, and I was pleased to see that the people in my office were nice enough to exit the room for my breakdown.  The two women who remained handed me a box of tissues and just sat there silently as I squeezed out the last few sobs I had left in me. 

     One woman spoke.  “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

     “What’s amazing?” I managed to reply, no longer crying.

     “Being happy,” she said.  Then she smiled at me and smoothed my hair back.  “Being happy…it’s amazing.”

     That night I left Thomas.

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