The Surface

We were camping, it was his idea, I wish I told him no though. He thought it would be fun thing to do, away from our jobs and problems. I wish we never went to the creek; it's his own fault, the idiot! I hate him. How dare he leave me this way! I feel dead even though he's the one that's gone. Every day I wake up go to work and then fall asleep. I am dead.
"Mornin' lil' lady," Cal said as he put my bag through the metal detector, "how're ya' holdin' up?"
"Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow," was my dull reply. Same as the day after it happened, I said to myself. I worked through my papers and files like a good little worker and went to the cafe with everyone else like a good little person. I'm not a person though. People can't drown everyday but still be alive, they can't walk through a fire and feel the same burn that they normally feel, they can feel their heart in their chest, their common love for life and the things in it. I am not a person. Always drowning, always burning never living. Empty.
Work is over. I drive home. I eat dinner. I go to bed. I lie in bed not asleep not awake. I'm to cold but only he can warm me up. What am I doing! I'm wasting my life because someone wasted theirs! I want to stop. To get out of this ocean that never has a surface but I don't know how. No one can see me. They can't see that I'm dying. Every. Bloody. Day. There's a plastic bag around my head that's got a smile on the front but is suffocating me on the inside! But everyone is fooled by my killer; they think that my pleas for help are cynical jokes that are just to help with my recovery. My murderer edits what I say into something acceptable for this world. Maybe if this world was less negative and depressing then they would hear that what I'm saying isn't right. Maybe it's their fault. Maybe they can't hear properly. Or maybe it's my fault, I'm not loud enough. What am I saying of course it's my fault! Everything is my fault. I'm why he died, I'm why Cal smokes three packs a day, I'm why Dennis works the corner every night for enough money! I hate myself I want to die!
I wake up. I have breakfast for the first time since the camping trip. I put on a smile and drive to work. I say hi to Cal and nearly skip through the detector.
"Well someun's cheery today!"Cal chuckles, "What's put you'n a good mood?"
"Today's my last day!" My murderer once again censors my cynical statement and Cal's smile drops.
"You're leaving us!?" He cries.
"For good!" A grin spread across my face at the thought of the endless sleep that would envelop me after dinner.
"Well I'll be missin' ya' when ya'v left us,"
I saw straight through his lie but thanked him all the same as I made my way to my cubicle and did my work better than I ever had before. On the last paper I was writing I put a big love heart that was split in half with the annotation 'thanks for all of the wonderful support after the death of my husband you monsters! Xx' I don't care who finds it, who hurts over it. I don't care. I'll be gone soon anyway.
As I was driving home I went over my beautiful plan and nearly missed my turn because of my glee. I skipped up my overgrown front lawn and walked into a house that was perfumed by the roast I had put in the oven this morning to slow cook. I ate my roast in my empty house and made my way up to the bedroom where my necklace of rope was waiting patiently. I reflected on my choice, it had taken me a while to decide how I would die - drugs, knife or cliff - but I decided that a quick drop and a sudden stop would be the most exhilarating. I put on the white dress I wore when I recited my vows and stepped up onto the stool. As i settled the piece of twisted rope around my neck i took a deep breath, this is it. I hovered one foot over the edge of the stool as i prepared to take my leap and my life. The doorbell rang. It gave me such a shock that almost made me fall off the chair. I shook my head and resumed my previous position; one foot out, teetering between life and death. The doorbell rang again. And again. Grumbling I reluctantly pulled the noose from my neck and stomped down the step to yank open the door and scream at the person behind it. When I reached the bottom step, however, I heard a sound - a whimpering, how odd. I fumbled with the clasp and ripped open the door, but there was no one there. I looked down to the doormat and nearly fell over in surprise. There, wrapped in a black blanket was a baby. Who would do this?! I felt disgusted. I picked the infant up, a baby girl. The innocence in her face astounded me, this child, abandoned on my doorstep, was innocent. She had done no harm to anyone, who would do this to her? Her chubby cheeks were pale from the cold but her beauty was warm. To cover this little angel in a black cloth seemed like a sin. She was better than black, better than hurt, better than this world. What broke me and saved me in the same instant were her eyes. They help hope, for the future- for her life, trust, that I would always be there for her - no matter what and love, like everything deserved her love, no one couldn't be forgiven. I couldn't let her leave my arms, I couldn't let her go and so I sat with my door wide open and my eyes full of tears as I held my baby girl in my arms. I looked into my daughter's eyes again and I found the suface.