Pure Revenge
written by: P. A. Farrell
Life isn’t always the dream we had imagined it would be if we thought about our future at all during childhood, but Cynthia had thought about hers. She’d viewed that distant time with all the love and comedy she’d wanted. There would be more sad days, like when her father abruptly grabbed a bag and shouted at her mother that he was leaving. Yeah, reality doesn’t always turn out as we expect, and it can be more of a noir film than a Disney treat.
Everything changed with one small move of a ballpoint pen in a checkbook. Married three years and still not feeling that she thoroughly knew Mark, Cynthia saw the hesitation in his hand, and somehow, it was as though a gauntlet was being thrown down. The pen hit the desk with force as his powerful hand squelched it on the wood. Even the delightful, rose-scented breeze coming through the French doors didn’t change his glowering face.
She knew it was blaming time, and she was the intended target, as usual. No, the executive never took responsibility for anything; it was always her. Now, it was the mortgage and the price they’d paid for the house, but wasn’t it Mark who wanted a bigger house with an in-ground swimming pool? And wasn’t it her mother who forked over the additional money for the down payment?
Innocently, she’d mentioned that her mother had to be repaid, and the comment was like a match to dry tinder. He threw the checkbook at her and watched it bounce at her feet. But her immediate reaction wasn’t what he expected; she stepped on it.
Springing from his seat, he demanded, “Give me the checkbook.” Her foot remained firmly planted on the slim book. Realizing she wasn’t going to comply, Mark grabbed her leg, sending her to the floor where the dog’s glass water dish shattered and cut her wrist.
Anger turned to panic as blood ran down her hand and onto the floor. A fresh dish towel was quickly wrapped around it.
“Now, look what you’ve done,” he yelled in a half-angry, half-frightened voice as he picked up the car keys. Within minutes, they were on their way to the hospital emergency room.
The emergency room staff questioned Cynthia about her marriage and asked if he was hurting her. Wanting to scream that he made her feel like a prisoner in her own home, she nevertheless denied any abuse.
The wound was stitched and bandaged, and they drove home in silence, where Cynthia packed a bag, put a leash on the dog, and started toward the garage door to her car. All the while, Mark stood in disbelief, asking her where she was going. “To my mother’s,” were her only words as she slammed the door behind her.
At Cynthia’s mother’s house, her Uncle Whitey, who had returned from prison a month previously and had already heard the news from his sister, asked about the bandage as though he knew nothing.
“What’s the bandage for, kid?” His face wasn’t showing anything but concern, but Cynthia knew him and his reputation as a family protector. “Did he hurt you? Do you want me to take care of it?”
“No, Uncle Whitey, it was an accident. I’m okay.” Her voice quivered, and it was apparent that all was not right in her marriage. What would she do now? Mark had all the money, the bank accounts, the stocks, and the gold bars he was buying and storing in a safe deposit box. She had nothing.
A week later, she returned home, hoping things would improve and not be some reality TV show where they’d have a “tell-all” over the next week.
Mark apologized and vowed to seek help for his anger. At least, she thought, that was promising. Days went by as they cautiously interacted like bomb diffusers. Then things took an unexpected turn.
Mark came home looking like he’d just stepped out of a steam bath. His face was white as s sheet, he was sweating, his shirt collar was open, and he looked frightened.
“Someone fired through my windshield,” he stammered. “Could it be your Uncle Whitey?”
Sarah felt an odd sense of tranquility as Mark stood there.
“We don’t miss,” she said with a hint of film noir drama.
With just three simple words, Cynthia experienced a sense of liberation from her suffocating marriage. It was like autumn leaves gently falling off a tree. Seeing Mark’s mix of shock and fear, she realized she held all the cards. A new path opened where she could embrace the life she always wanted.
While Mark stuttered feeble excuses, Cynthia calmly reached for her phone and dialed the family attorney, determined to uncover Mark’s undisclosed assets. Once trapped in a lavish but confining home, Cynthia now saw herself as unchained and ready to seize whatever opportunities lay ahead in this new-found freedom.
- Pure Revenge - January 29, 2025
- A Good Thing - August 8, 2024
