No Such Thing
Everyone knows that there isn’t such a thing like a happy ending, not in real life.
If my life were different, if I still believed in magic and happily ever after, I’d have told you that I had my very own fairy tale, complete with a handsome prince and the opulent, fabulous wedding.
But there’s a reason that those stories are fiction, I think to myself bitterly.
I’m sitting alone in our big, beautiful home overlooking the beach with only a bottle of red wine and a book for company.
As for my husband? Another late night at the office. But there’s something inside me that senses a lie. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s up to, but it’s not like I can leave, not without proof.
I’m bristling inside, and I drain my glass, walking to the big picture window and staring out at the beach, the waves lapping at the shore. If this was indeed a fairy tale, I would give myself to the ocean and let the water carry me to another place, a place where happiness doesn’t hide in wealthy trappings.
I’m searching my memories for the precise moment where everything went wrong.
After we got engaged? When we were dating? I thought I’d found my real-life Prince Charming.
But I think he’d found his trophy. The thought is so upsetting that I drop the wineglass, and it hits the floor with a soft, musical tinkle. I swear to myself quietly, then pick up the broken pieces and throw them in the garbage. A large piece cuts my fingertip, and it’s so sharp I don’t even feel it. Drops the color of garnets fall to the kitchen floor.
Despite the size of the house, my throat tightens, and my vision begins to spot. I walk to the door and walk out, my feet meeting the soft, powdery sand. My thoughts are consumed with escape, with leaving Brent and rebuilding my life. I don’t even believe in marriage, but I’d let him talk me into it.
A gilded cage is still a cage, and the thought echoes through my mind as I walk toward the water, my finger still throbbing.
How is this my life? I had so much ambition, so many dreams I wanted to fulfill. I fear that if I look into the mirror, I wouldn’t recognize myself. When a wave breaks over my feet and drenches me, I shiver. Would it be so bad, letting it all go? Giving myself to the ocean and starting anew somewhere else?
At least I would be free.
The wind begins to pick up, blowing my hair around my face, and dark clouds begin to cluster in the sky, blocking the sun like a grim, baleful hand. Thunder booms, and the waves begin to churn and foam. Fear blooms in my heart like a poisonous flower, but I stay rooted on the shore.
Somewhere inside me, a voice whispers that the storm is for me. I wade into the ocean until the water is to my waist, and I dive, headed for the center of the storm.
I am no one’s pet.
**
