Young Writers Society

His smile crestened in the sun light and cause me to smile. That boy is just the most adorable little boy you've ever seen. Thirty-one today. And it's been the longest day of my life. In the middle of my day I was called by Marylyn to take photos of him playing in the park. I brought my daughter and Marylyn's Timmy along to help out. They ran about, laughing and smiling, clueless of their cuteness, as I simply just snaped, snaped, snaped trying to make the pictures as real as possible. Being a photographer I don't want to just capture the moment, I want the moment to tell a story. I want the picture to say a thousand words. I snap and snap, thinking about how my daughters will grow up, about whether, they hear us fighting or not. "Here, I got you the best Ice cream here," park ice cream. I smile and take it from Marylyn thanking her with a nod of my head. "OKAY BREAK KIDS!" she yelled. I could tell she had a lot of practice. "So how has your birthday been so far?" she asks.
"Well if you really must know, my birthday has been perfectly fine," Marylyn looked at me and then we both erupted in laughter. In thirity-one years I have not had a "perfectly fine" birthday. Okay, maybe my first birthday, when I was a baby was my perfectly fine one. "We're throwing you a party, and it's not technically a surprise birthday party, other wise I wouldn't have told you, but we have planned it without your consent, is that okay?" I nod. Words were just not coming for me. I looked at Marylyn a moment longer than usual, look at her. She's beautiful and smart, and super kind, and she went and married a crazy man like Peter. Love is insane. My head then turns to see a young couple walking about you their hands intertwined. I brought up my camera and zoomed into them, I could only see their backs, that's why I wanted to take it, then snap. I did. When I took a look at the image, I almost melted "newlyweds" I say out loud.
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I pull on a light purple dress that was worth more than our dishwasher. I brush my hair down for the mirror and sit on my chair. "Let me brush your hair for you," the voice startles me and I turn to see my handsome husband standing there. "Go ahead," I tell him, staying right where I was. He takes the brush and slowly streams it down my hair. It was one of those nights I would never understand. Why on earth did he want to brush my hair? Now I am replaying the same scene as our three year ago anniversary. I have on my purple dress, and my silver earrings, and I am sitting on my dressing table chair glancing at my reflection, waiting for him to come, wondering what he would do. He did eventually come, and he did what he wanted to do; nothing. "Let's go, you look good, are the kids in bed?" those rush of words was the only response I received from him. I nodded for all of them and stood. I quickly sprayed on some more perfume and then walked with him downstairs. When we got to the door post he stopped me. "I may not be the best husband, but I do love you," I am lost in his eyes, was he really going to apologize? I was wrong, instead of sorry, he leans down to kiss me, and I step away. Anger flashes in his eyes, and I am afraid. He grabs my arm, and pulls me in, "What more do you want?" then he tries again, forcefully, reluctantly I finally give way for a second of a kiss, and then pull myself away. "This is how you treat your wife?" I ask. his eyes soften for a moment, and then they harden, I was about to walk out when unexpectedly, he stole my wrist brought it to him, and slapped me across the face. "Don't test me Jenavive," I hated him. My cheek rung from the pain of his hand, but my wrist rung even more, because it broke my fall, from the harsh slap. I need to stop this. I tell myself. "Now let's go," he said. I nod. Lets go lie to everyone we ever knew about how he treats me, lets go smile and act like everything is going to be perfect. Lets go see if I'll be his servant, and get his drinks and say what he wants, and serve how he wants and laugh his favorite way or let him ever kiss me again. Lets go and see if I will not change. Let's go and see if he can twist my arm any longer with his fake "I love you's" and "you're beautiful's" he has hurt me all this while. All our years of marriage in some way he has hurt me greatly. And now he can see if he can continue to do so. This thirty-first year, he will see hell.