Waiting For The Sun - short story

Watching from the drawn curtains she saw the post man wend his way up and down the path of the neighbouring houses. She'd waited so long and cursed their street for being the last of the day to receive their deliveries. Anticipation pulled her to the front door and onto her path. When he walked by her gate, not even a wave of recognition from him, she tilted her head towards the sky, eyes squeezed so tight the crease in her forehead funnelled the rain down her nose, the drips collecting into a stream that ran off it and plopped down the front of her t-shirt. Allowing a deep sigh to escape, she collapsed onto her front door step, the slight porch providing some shelter. She thought how rain, water were supposed to be cleansing, instead she felt them seep into her soul, drowning her hopes. She needed to escape, free herself.

'Carole, what the hell are you doing sitting there in the rain?'

Startled by his gruff voice, she jumped up, pushing her drenched hair from her face, before crossing her ams across her chest.

'Locked myself out,' she muttered.

'Bloody typical, head in the clouds as always,' he said, pushing past her to slot his key into the lock on their front door.

'Get inside before anyone sees the state of you.'

Inside the dark hallway, he threw his bags on the floor and marched towards the kitchen.

'Don't suppose you thought to put my dinner on before you locked yourself out?' he asked.

'I was going to but remembered we'd run out of milk for your tea. I was just going to pop to the shops first.'

'Without your purse, or the keys?' he asked. She looked at him but unable to muster a response she let her gaze drop to examine the cracked tile on the kitchen floor.

'I'm heading upstairs for a shower, I'd like my dinner on the table when I get back down.'

Waiting for the confirmation, provided by the creaking floorboards on the upstairs landing, she pulled out the key hidden deep in her pocket and placed it in the drawer, before pulling pots and pans from cupboards to start the evening ritual.

Sated and dressed for his night of karaoke at the pub, he slammed the front door in his usual manner and once the reverberation settled she stalled the circular motion of her arm, let the dishcloth drop from her hand and walked from the kitchen to her bathroom. Stepping over his discarded clothing and wet towels she moved to the bath. Sealing the tub with the plug she turned on the taps and watched as the hot and cold streams collided in the pooling water, steam eventually twirling a path towards her. Reaching to the back of the cupboard, beyond the extra supplies of his preferred deodorant, shaving oil, hair gel, balms and aftershave she found the elusive pot of bath salts. Pouring a stream of it into the water, she inhaled, allowing the scented steam to wrap around her. Fetching the candles, she lit them and undressed before slipping into the hot water. Closing her eyes she rested her head against the bath and tried to lock the world out.

'What the hell's going on in here?'

Startled, her eyes flew open, her heart pumping so loudly in her chest, it echoed in her ears, drowning his words.

It didn't dull the pain, when his hands found the wet hair stuck to her neck and shoulders, when he screwed it into his fist and tugged it upwards, dragging her naked body from the shelter of the warm water. Using her hands to steady herself as he pulled her over the edge of the bath, she tried to put one foot to the hard, cold tiles but her wet skin could find no purchase. She fell.

He released his grip on her hair, transferring it to her arms.

'Why are my clothes still on the floor? Why isn't the kitchen clean and where did all those candles and shit come from?'

Unable to answer and knowing the result was inevitable, she kept her mouth closed and her eyes lowered.

'Look at me when I speak to you,' he demanded, his fist slapping her chin upwards, bashing her teeth against each other.

'Pick those clothes up.'

She gathered them in her arms, cradling them against her for cover.

His hand closed tightly around her arm, he pulled her towards the door, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Pointing at the bundle of clothing, teeth closed as he hissed his orders,

'Now put them in that bloody machine and get this mess cleaned up.'

Her eyes averted from the anger she knew would be distorting his face, she followed each command, trying to forget the exposure of her body, as the clothes left her arms for the sanctity of the washing machine. Lifting the deserted dishcloth, she resumed the washing of the table, before returning to the sink and the scrubbing of the dirty dishes.

Placing the last dish on the drainer, she heard the noises that stilled her breathing.

Belt buckle undone, button opened, zipper pulled down.

His weight pressed into her back, his hand held the back of her neck.

His breath on her ear as he whispered,

'Good job I forgot my phone or I wouldn't have discovered what a lazy, deceitful little bitch you really are, but it would be a shame to waste that clean, good smelling body.'

The hand on her neck pressed her forward, pushing her over the sink, his weight pressed harder against her and into her.

'Don't expect me back early,' he said. Buckling his belt before collecting his phone and wallet.

The door slammed.

She fought the temptation to slump to the floor.

She made her way back to the bathroom, afraid to slip back into the bath, in case he should return again, she soaked a cloth and washed his touch from her body.

Dressed, she pulled the bag from the back of the built-in wardrobe. She could wait no longer.

The rattan chair creaked as she sank into the deep cushion. Letting the sandals drop from her feet, she shook the white, sparkling sand from her feet and legs, before curling them underneath her. Lifting the scarlet red, wide brimmed hat from the glass table beside her, she placed it on her head, shading her face from the sun. Removing her sunglasses she took the iPad from her bag and connecting into the hotel's wifi, she logged into her email account. The heat from the sun warmed her, cocooned her and she smiled as she read the letter from her solicitor.

Dear Carole,

We have received confirmation that you are the sole beneficiary and that the probate of your birth mother's estate has been concluded. Taking into account the interim payment previously made to you, the remaining funds will be transferred to us by the end of the week.

We would be grateful for your instructions regarding which bank account you would like us to transmit the funds to.

We have also been contacted by the firm representing your husband. He continues to ask for details of your whereabouts, requesting an opportunity to discuss the divorce. We have refused, as per your instructions and reiterated that you want no settlement from the proceedings.

Please find enclosed details of firms in the Caribbean with whom we have association and who are willing to advise you on the investment of your funds and immigration laws should you decide to make your extended stay permanent.

Yours sincerely,

Wilsons