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Dean's Daze
deanthepoet09@yahoo.com - Volume XI, Issue I - 004 July 06
loving ain't easy
A man wakes up
in Somewhere,
Still dressed
in his work clothes from a few hours ago because he just didn’t have the
strength or the inclination to get undressed, George Marcel struggles to get out
of bed. The entire production seemingly takes minutes, but in fact just a few
seconds have ticked away. In those few seconds, George Marcel time travels
through his life with images indiscriminately culled from his life. Some of them
make no sense to him as to why these memories would resurface at 5am in the
morning and others make him smile a smile of reminisce of when he was worry free
but his life was unfulfilled. Denise
and the kids needing him had given George a bigger purpose in life than himself
and had saved him from himself and the demons of his youth that ate at his soul.
It was only in the quiet moments when he allowed his mind to retrace his youth
did the memories bring back the darkness which once consumed his life. Denise
had changed all that and anything he could ever do for her would never be
enough. He was a man of few words just like his father, but anytime George
thought of Denise, his heart became bigger than his body and tears would well up
in his eyes when he thought of the things he would never be able to do for her.
Not wanting to wake up his sleeping wife, George made his way through the
darkened hall and into the bathroom to take a shower. Denise only opened her
eyes when she knew that her husband was safely in the shower and she could hear
him humming. George would have been
embarrassed to let Denise see him shed a tear even though he was the most
affectionate and soft-spoken man she had ever known. She always felt like a
little girl standing next to him because he was so big and imposing, but blessed
with a heart of gold. He was the
first man to treat her as if he lucky to be with her and not the other way
around. She knew how deeply it wounded George that he wasn’t able to provide
for his family in the manner he would like to, and even though there were things
that she wished she could have, there wasn’t anything that she couldn’t do
without. Making sure that her man
felt as if he was providing for his family was always tantamount in her mind.
Her body was still sore from yesterday and she allowed her sore parts to
find refuge in her favorite down comforter.
She laid there
somewhere between sleep and consciousness allowing her mind to randomly wander
to each of her children: Kyle was 10, Kemah was 7 and Kasha was only 13 months.
They were her world and every time she thought of stopping what she was doing to
help pay their bills, Denise would imagine one of her children suffering because
of her inability to give them the bare essentials of life.
The first time
she did it Denise felt as if everyone knew what she had done and God would
strike her down the minute she got home. He would wait until that time so He
could show her children the evil that their mother was involved in behind their
father’s back. If George ever
found out that she left the baby upstairs for an hour everyday with Miss Davila
to go out and earn some extra money-he would kill her. How could any man stand
to live with a woman who would use her body in the way she was doing to make
some extra money to help her family? She rolled over into George’s empty space
and buried her tear stained face into his leftover warmth.
In her husband’s temporary absence, Denise felt an overpowering need to
have George wrap his huge arms around and make love to her before he left for
work. She knew he was far too tired
to really enjoy making love to her, but she always felt safe, like a schoolgirl
when he held her in that special way. She would hold on to his warmth for the
rest of the day and let his love be her sanctuary from all the things she
allowed others to do to her. In the name of her family, she allowed her body to
be defiled, but her heart she kept hidden away, keeping it safe for only George.
If he only knew the things she let old rich men do to her would he still love or
regret the day he laid eyes on her? These thoughts ate at Denise’s heart and
mind as she pretended to be asleep when George came back into the bedroom.
In the waning
minutes of night, George stood in the shadows of his bedroom, naked. His towel
dropped to the floor. His limp manhood swaying side to side and like him unsure
of what to do next; crawl into bed and make love to his wife or get dressed and
leave her sleeping lost in her dreams. He
decided on the latter.
Denise wished
he had decided on the former, but she laid there quietly, waiting for him to
leave. There was something inherently wrong about wanting your husband to leave
you sleeping while he went out to work, and you went out to screw other guys.
This couldn’t be what her life would be about, but here she was, married, with
three kids and unable to support them and having to sell her body to feed them.
Her heart broke every time a man other than George touched her, but she went
back day after day because George’s salary couldn’t support the five of
them.
Yesterday, a
man old enough to be her father; a man she had never had the displeasure of
knowing asked Denise to just lie in bed with and listen to him talk about his
dead wife. She broke down and cried uncontrollably for the next fifteen minutes
because all he spoke about was his dead wife and how much he missed her. Denise
wondered if she died before George would he speak of her so eloquently and with
such reverie. But how can a man speak about a woman with so much love and
respect when she is spreading her legs for complete strangers who think of her
as a whore and not a woman: a wife, a mother, with three beautiful kids?
That’s not the image she wanted to leave with her husband and kids. She
imagined her daughter, Kemah, selling her body to dirty old men and Denise
became so distraught, that the elderly gentleman thought she was having a mental
breakdown. Truth be told, she was and it happened just in time to save her from
herself.
Scared that
the young woman was about to lose her mind or do something worse-kill herself;
the old man ran outside, frantic, to find someone to comfort her.
Not finding anyone at the desk, the old man bolted outside to try and
find help, but the hustling crowd of people mistook him for a crazed old beggar,
even though he was dressed in his best Sunday suit.
Finally
someone stopped to help the old man.
He managed to
get a few words out to the good Samaritan and he nodded, still unclear as to
what had gotten the old man so riled up, but he followed him into the building
anyway.
“I sure
appreciate your help,” the old man rambled on, “but I didn’t know what
else to do. She wouldn’t stop crying and who knows what a hysterical woman
will do in that state of mind. My Louise, God rest her beautiful soul would
never forgive me if I let anything happen to this young woman.” The Good
Samaritan nodded and turned down into the hallway and heard the crying of a
woman in anguish. The crying sounded vaguely familiar, but had no business being
in a place like this, George Marcel thought to himself.
It had been a
long day at the factory and it had been on his mind all day how he had left
Denise in bed without saying so much as goodbye. He never wanted there to be any
doubt in his wife’s mind, the truest affection of his heart was always love
for her. The thought of Denise brought a small smile to George’s face and the
old man recognized that smile of a man being in love.
The old man
entered the room and George followed right behind him.
Jean-Pierre,
Dean
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