Photo credit: Flora Borsi
Gwendolyn Anders was being deconstructed. No one else could tell the forty-five year old divorced woman was falling apart. She couldn’t afford to let anyone know. She had to keep moving, go to work each day, make sure her two kids got to and from school, did their homework, ate healthy meals, made it to soccer practice.
She did her best to adhere to the “supermom” stereotype, and as far as the rest of the world was concerned, she was successful.
Inside where no one could see, she was bleeding to death.
“We wouldn’t have gotten a divorce if you were more responsible, Joe. I’ve told you a thousand times that you shouldn’t be so late in bringing Timmy home after your visits.”
Joe hated these lectures, which was why he avoided his ex-wife most of the time. It was why he waited as long as he could after his every-other-weekend visits with his five-year-old son to take him back to Janet’s place.
Ignoring Janet, or trying to, Joe knelt down in front of his uncertain and anxious son. “Hey, buddy. Did we have a great time or what?”
Remembering the late-night pizza and ice cream blitz after all day at the amusement park, Timmy grinned. “We sure did, Dad.”
Joe became serious for a few seconds and put his arms around the little boy. “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Daddy.” Timmy threw his tiny arms around his Dad’s neck and squeezed. Then feeling his Dad start to stand, he let go.
“See you next time, killer.” Joe grinned at the boy.
“See you later, Daddy.” Timmy wasn’t smiling. He was sad to see his Dad go and wished they could spend more time together.