Home Sweet Home
It was a lazy Sunday in Lancaster; traffic was easy. She arrived within 20 minutes at her brownstone house in the elite urban area of the busy city. They bought the house a few years after marriage and thought they would start a family there.
It was close to the commercial area where Declan goes to work every day. It was family friendly because schools and grocery stores were a few blocks away and a hospital within 5 minutes’ distance.
She climbed up the ladder to the front door; it was opened from the inside.
“Alma … you’re here?”
She was surprised her cleaning lady was working on a Sunday.
“Welcome home; Mr. Hunt asked me to come in and prepare for your return.”
“Oh, of course, I’m sorry to disturb your Sunday … I’m alright, really, I can manage.”
Travis was unloading the trunk on the pavement.
“It’s no trouble; let me help you with your luggage; where do you want them?”
“My bedroom, please, just put them there. I’ll unpack them myself … thank you, Alma.”
“Would you like me to draw you a bath, Ma’am? Lunch is ready if you want to eat first.” The old lady was a gift; she’s been coming to her house every day since they moved in. And she’s been nothing but a blessing.
“Yes, I think I’d like to bathe first … do you know when my husband will return?”
They were inside the house; Travis had taken all her luggage out of the trunk and started taking them upstairs to her bedroom on the third floor.
“He will be home for dinner, that’s what he told me … but he will call you as soon as he’s free from the luncheon,” Alma smiled.
A large bouquet of white Lilies was on the round table. ‘Welcome home,’ the card says. It was from Declan, his secretary probably arranged it, but it was a lovely gesture nonetheless. She looked around at the place she had been calling home for over 10 years. She was back at last.
She took heavy steps up to her bedroom. All her luggage was on the floor. She started opening them to take out all her laundry before her husband came home, the suitcases would be back on the shelves of her closet, and there will be no trace left of the trip.
“Alma … can you arrange for someone to pick up my laundry? I need them taken as soon as possible,” she said in her room. “I don’t want Declan to find the mess when he gets home.”
“Of course, Ma’am, I will call them now.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as Alma left the room, she removed all her clothes from her suitcases. They smelled like Roman, or at least his scent was still heavy in her senses. All of them have to be washed, including the clothes she was wearing, and even the clean ones. She put them all in laundry bags and left them outside her bedroom door.
She locked the door and got into the tub. She gently rubbed her skin with bath scrub and poured a generous amount of shampoo to wash her hair, cleaning all evidence of him, eliminating him one scrub at a time.
Then she fell to pieces. She turned on the water to hide her sobs. She hugged her knees and buried her head between them. Realizing no matter how hard she scrubbed, she could never get him out of her mind or her heart.
A clog in her chest was pushing out in her cry. A kind of despair that maybe she will die from it. She’d lost something she could never have, something she never suppose to get a taste of. Her life was already set in stone, it was her fault to want something else, and now she has to live without it.
She felt the room was closing in on her. The pain inside was crushing her. She would do anything not to feel like that. It wasn’t real. She had to convince herself that it was all a delusion. That’s the only way she will survive it.
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Everyone had gone home. Alma left dinner on the dining table to be heated when Olivia felt like eating. The house was quiet like it always was. She spends hours and hours in that house alone for years. She was used to it.
She plays soft music in the background and gets comfortable on the sofa. Reading some of the projects she needed to go back to come Monday. She rarely watches TV and is more of a book person, but she barely has time to read with her new business.
The front door was being opened. The jingling of Declan’s keys can be heard once he is inside, followed by his footsteps coming up the stairs. She braced herself.
“Hey honey … you’re home,” his tall figure emerged from the stairway; he smiled and walked into the living room.
“Hey,” she responded casually from the sofa.
“How’s the cruise?” he gave her a peck on the lips and sat beside her.
“It was wonderful … how’s the luncheon?” she put down her report on the coffee table.
Declan rested his head on the sofa and let out a long sigh, “I’m just glad it’s over,” he chuckled. “I’m so tired of all those gatherings, but the project is pushing through … so it’s not so bad.”
He looked tired. She started to think that he was really working for the past week while she was at sea. Which made her feel even more terrible.
“I’m glad it all worked out.”
“I need a vacation,” he sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands, “I can’t afford to do that now, there’s so many things to do.”
She didn’t respond. Declan would always say that when he’s swamped with work. Then he will forget about it after the work is done and go out to business functions with all his friends to find more work. She had learned not to respond to his utterances but gave him a pat on the back for assurance that he was doing a good job.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Famished. Did Alma prepare something for dinner?”
She nodded, “Do you want to eat now? I’ll heat them up for you.”
He put his hand on hers and patted it, “Sure honey, that’ll be great … I’m gonna hit the shower first. Wait until I tell you what happened to Larry O’Connor.”
Larry O’Connor was one of the members of his board of directors. A troublemaker. It can’t be good, she thought. She smiled.
The day was returning to normal by the hour, and there wasn’t a hint of suspicion in her husband’s eyes whatsoever; why would there be? She had never given him a reason to be suspicious of her. She had always been a good wife and will remain that way.