2: Bugs and Ducky-2
371 Words
BONITA DIDN’T KNOW how long she stood motionless holding the letter that seemed to have been written with heart-breaking finality. Her fleeting catatonia was broken when she noticed a teardrop that had fallen onto the red eye of the yellow plastic duck in her hand. She wiped the tear away with her finger, even as her tears continued to course down her cheeks.
She sauntered to the guest room door. She looked at the mattress one more time, her eyes lingering on the mutilated futon mattress. It must have been one frightening dream. She sighed the exhalation of looming depression and deep, deep hurt. She finally prised herself away and closed the door gently, mindful of her baby next door. Gently, but with finality.
She would not be able to open her heart’s door again, not ever.
She headed for the modern minimalist kitchen, feeling the need for caffeine. She filled the old-fashioned stainless-steel kettle with water and while she waited for it to boil, she folded the letter several times. She stared at it for some time, indecision eating her. Throw it out or hold on to it. Unable to come to a decision, she dropped it into a simple wooden receptacle, polished and varnished and shaped like a stemless chalice. Cruelly it happened to have been a gift from Duck from one of his travels overseas. She realised there was hardly anything in their shared house that wouldn’t remind her of him. She sat on the bar stool, leant her head on her arm and sobbed.
Seconds later, the kettle whistled, disturbing her pity party.
She reached for her coffee immersion and brewing system, another gift from Duck. She forced herself to not think about it. Life had thrown her a spanner, again. She just had to deal with it the best she knew how.
When her first husband walked out on her, she’d managed to get a grip, even though afraid and pregnant with their child. She didn’t expect to fall in love again after that first bitter experience. Now, the second had walked out of her life.
How could someone be so unlucky? Maybe I’m cursed.
She watched the brown, caffeine-infused water drip down the crystal-clear glass mug, thinking about how he had materialised back into her life.
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- Writer
