Cigarette Stained Lies

Once again she sat at the edge of the sofa with the phone pressed hard to her ear. The phone rang and rang then went straight to voicemail…again. “I love you, and I…I miss you.” She spoke softly into the receiver and gently put the phone back on the table. She hugged her knees tight and wondered why her unruly husband wasn’t answering his phone, she always expected the worst. Was he sick? Was he taking drugs? Was he being unfaithful? She closed her eyes trying to banish these unpleasant thoughts from her mind, took a lock of dark brown hair and began to wrap it around her finger, longing for him to call back. Deep down she could feel herself hold back secret rage, she had every right to be angry. He leaves her and the children every night, sometimes he leaves for days without saying anything, he’s reclusive, he never tells her where he’s going or what he’s doing, when he does come home he smells of smoke and alcohol and he never answers his phone. So, instead of letting out her anger she bottled it in and let the worry take over. She was at the end of her tether with no idea of what to do; it was impossible to talk to him seeing as she could never even get hold of him; it was impossible to find him and she was almost certain she was slowly losing him. She began to bite her nails; she wondered why he was behaving so abnormally. She was a strong woman, a stable mother and a caring wife, so why was he behaving in that way? She felt herself choke up and tears began to fall from her big, brown eyes. She buried her face in her knees trying her hardest not to make a sound. She made an effort to hide her sobs incase she awoke her sons whom were fast asleep in their beds, completely oblivious to what was going on between their mother and father.

The young boy sat on his bed in complete darkness with only a sliver of light coming in from the door that was left ajar. His knees were pulled tightly to his chest and eyes were screwed up tight. Just like the night before, his mother’s muffled crying kept him awake; this distressed him greatly and he couldn’t help trying to guess all the possible reasons for her misery. Nearly every night for the past fortnight he had listened to his mother cry in the living room, he hated it. He untangled himself from the duvet he was wrapped in and cautiously climbed out of his warm single bed. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard his mother let out a heart-piercing sob. He silently tiptoed into the hallway and sat at the top of the grand, white staircase peering down through the banister at his broken-hearted mother. He pressed his small face against the railings, his tiny fist clenching around the marble balustrade. A single tear rolled down his warm, flushed cheek and he wiped it on the back of his flannel pajamas. He felt so alone, no one would listen to him even if he tried to talk to them. He could just hear his older brother turning in his sleep, he would never understand – he probably hasn’t even noticed anything wrong and wouldn’t even care if he did. He leant back against the cold wall, closing his eyes, where was his daddy tonight? His dad had promised to play baseball with him the next day and seeing as he’d not come home for about four days, his father/son day didn’t look promising at all. Burying his face in his arms, he just wished to disappear…more than anything.