Trials and Tribulations [Chaelisa]

Epilogue

Lisa sat at the desk in her study, her eyes fixed in concentration on the computer screen in front of her, the fingers of both hands poised over the keyboard in readiness to type but remaining frustratingly suspended in the air with her apparent lack of inspiration. She watched the insertion point flashing tauntingly in the centre of the blank word document that she had open, the black vertical line appearing and disappearing in the exact same spot once every second; unmoving.

“Ugh,” she groaned, leaning back in the office chair she occupied and bringing her hands to rest on the back of her head, her fingers interlacing together. “This should not be that difficult.” She admonished herself thoughtfully as she gently twisted the seat she was perched on from one side to another, propelling the movement with her feet. She glanced around the room and sighed as her eyes roamed the ceiling to floor shelving which covered two out of the four walls, her eyes scanning the multitude of books that filled them which she had collected over the years. Lisa narrowed her eyes in an attempt to try and read the titles of the volumes from where she sat but struggled, her vision not quite what it used to be even with the glasses which she now had to wear firmly perched on the bridge of her nose. Realising that it was probably futile to continue from her current position Lisa leant forward and struggled out of the chair, one hand reaching for the edge of the desk to help her up, the other reaching to her distended stomach protectively.

“Jesus,” she huffed once she was on her feet, the hand she’d used for stability on the desk reaching round to rub the small of her back which was protesting profusely at the change of position. She wandered over to the nearest bookshelf with difficulty, her hand still perched on her abdomen which twitched slightly beneath her fingers and was becoming more and more cumbersome the larger that it got. “Let’s see…” she said, the index finger of her free hand running along the spines of the musty smelling books that were packed closely together on the shelf in front of her. “Great Expectations, Little Women, The Count of Montecristo, Les Miserables, Macbeth…” she listed off in her head as she walked along the wall, her finger trailing across the volumes behind her as she moved. When Lisa reached the end of the row she turned her attention to the shelf below, her index finger dropping down to repeat the process again as she walked back in the opposite direction. “To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, 100 Years of Solitude, Catch22, Love in the time of Cholera….” She continued, considering each of the titles and wondering whether the authors had struggled to name their literary works as much as she seemingly was. “Kite Runner, The Book Thief, Water for Elephants…” she persisted; only stopping when she came to a small dishevelled looking notebook with no title on the spine. She frowned and used her index finger to pull it out of its confines, tipping the top edge forward until it was easier to remove.

“What the hell is this?” she asked herself quietly, turning the book over in her hands and studying the outside cover for a clue but finding none, the exterior bearing no writing or other sign of what was contained inside. Lisa flicked open to the first page and lifted an eyebrow in surprise when she spied the messy handwritten script inside. “So my therapist recommended that I write down a few things from time to time now that I’m going back to school…I don’t know, it feels kind of stupid, to put down on paper the things which I think in my head.”

“I can’t believe that she kept this,” Lisa muttered aloud as she closed the book again. “What a sentimental idiot,” she laughed as she walked back over to her desk with it, her mind finding it difficult to comprehend why her wife hadn’t just thrown the journal away when they’d relocated from the apartment they’d shared to their new home almost three years ago. She placed the book on top of the solid oak desk when she reached it and lowered herself in to her chair awkwardly, her hands controlling the descent using the arm rests, the size of her stomach making it difficult to bend in the middle so that she had to lean back in the seat in order to get settled. Lisa studied the book from her position once she was comfortable, her eyes scrutinising the tattered corners of the black cover as her mind drifted back to the time when she’d written the words contained within it.