Just a period piece I was in the mood to write after watching Mad Men...
I need him so desperately. So intensely. I need him to love and protect me from all the outside evil lying just beyond my door. But there is evil in my walls, in my room and beneath the very floor boards I stand upon. He has shamed me time and time again; bringing only his perfumed smelling coat and dull hat to hang upon my hooks. There was a time I believed that a life of domestication was all I wanted, was all that could make me happy. He roped me in because it was much simpler to have a guardian then to look out for myself. And not only just for the large home and babies but a sheltered canopy away from my own gender. A shelter that has come to serve as my own little prison. I smile and wave dutifully at neighbors and keep my lips pined shut so as not to embarrass my husband. He is the stone beneath which I sit and wait to be addressed.
With little enthusiasm I look out the kitchen window at the world and its insecurities. I wonder about the women who work constantly and endure the male criticism thrown at them; yet at the end of the day lye somberly but free beside the same ignorant man who earlier chastised her for not being locked away in a house with three children to keep her busy. Likely that man is my husband who is so secure that I am stuck here and oblivious that he thinks I will remain always loyal. Sometimes I think that he believes me to be no more then a household appliance, spouting gossip with the neighbour ladies, keeping the house clean and occasionally- if he isn't to tired- allowing him to strip off my clothes and take me to bed. I haven't the slightest respect for myself these days. I do as I was brought up to do and at times with fear worry my daughter will have the same fate. Her daddy loves her and cherishes her frailty as I pass on the wisdom my mother once passed down to me. Chin up, eyes down, smile and be courteous, don't think or wonder beyond your means and always always keep him happy. Because if he's not happy you have failed your duties as a women.
I try to imagine my husband worrying about the same fate for our daughter but I don't think much on this. Men have a particular view of the world and the people that inhabit it. All we are to ever want is a man, even when we want to be free - we want a man.
My husband saunters in an hour late and reeking of cigarettes and scotch. Dinner has been sitting out for nearly double that time. I smile and don't inquire further beyond "how was your day dear", kissing him gently and taking his coat from his hands. He never speaks much. Generally he nods and kisses my forehead or utters a short reply about how his boss thinks he's "the next best thing". If his day had gone badly he would not stumble into bed until nearly morning; because troubles were reserved for his mistress(s) and taken out vigorously beneath the sheets of her bed. I love my husband very dearly. I often tell myself this countless times before he graces me with his presence. At times I even grow to miss him during the long days that he is away. When my husbands sits and grumbles about his cold food I quickly and obediently start warming it up. My children run in as if on queue and jump excitedly at their wonderful daddy. One day my son will be just like him; you can already hear the same distant language being repeated behind closed doors of my daughters little pink playhouse. And I hope with every last bone in my body that my children grow up to disappoint us because in so many ways they deserve at least that much.
The evening passes slowly as I cheerfully boast about how our friends down the road were jealous of our new wallpaper; fully aware that neither of us are truly interested in the subject but having not much else to say. Before bed he looks as though he may say something with true meaning but instead reminds me of an upcoming business trip and praises me about how well the tulips are growing in the garden this year. Just as he turns his head and closes his eyes I allow my smile to slowly fall and disappear. I stare at his even breathing and remember a time when I really believed that he could do no wrong; a time when we both truly were in love. I settle down beside him wishing I was anywhere but there and hoping I may dream of a real hero.
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