Just Another Day

Just Another Day

I was sitting with my wife, Linda last night, talking about my day when Lisa came in.  She was always the first of the kids home.  Soon Tommy came in, grinning and telling stupid jokes.  Laura was always the last.  She'd been broody since the accident, like maybe she knew something was wrong, but couldn't put her pretty little finger on it.

After supper the kids watched tv for a while and Linda and I puttered around the house and yard until it was time to get the kids ready for bed, just as we usually do.  My brother Tim came by for a while.  Poor tim.  I think he has a harder time accepting it than I do.  He'd always been secretly in love with Linda too and the accident really tore him up.  He keeps asking me how I can still go on making love to her.  All I can say is, "How can I not?"

It was a drunken driver that caused the crash.  Of course he walked away without a scratch.  My family wasn't so lucky.

When the kids were all tucked in, stories read and night-night kissed I went to the bedroom.  Linda had the candles lit.  Sometimes she'll shy away from the match like she has a fear of it, but she always lights them.  She was feeling romantic last night.  She has been that way every night since the crash.  At first I was afraid.  It felt wrong, but she begged; couldn't understand what was wrong with me.  Didn't I love her, she kept asking.  I do love her, my sweet ageless beauty.

Waking up in the morning is the worst.  The first time I actually screamed when I saw her in the morning.  Now I just slink off to sleep on the couch as soon as she starts to snore.

I've watched them.  The first sign is always from Tommy, "Mom, look out!"  He always rode in the front and must have seen the drunken hick barrelling along the street with his overloaded hay truck.

"Shit." yells Linda as she flails like she's trying to steer out of the way.

"Tommy says, "Mom."

Lisa just kind of sighs.

Laura starts a muffled kind of screaming that goes on for a couple of minutes.  After that she smiles and says, "I love you Daddy."  At first I thought she could actually see me, but I found out that one of the firemen had actually almost saved her and probably would have if it hadn't been for the fact that she had been strapped in so securely.  He looks a lot like me.  I hear he turned to drugs and will probably be institutionalised for life, poor fellow.

I had cleaned up the mess the first few mornings, before work, mostly ashes, you could actually see them turn to ashes, except for Laura.  She is worst.  Now I just get up off the couch, dress, and leave the house with awful smell knowing it'll be normal when I get home.  Weekdays I work.  Weekends I visit the cemetary and go to the coffee shop for a few hours.