didn’t want to upset her daughter. Watching her two girls lament Amir’s absence was more painful than him being gone in the first place. She couldn’t bear to watch her children being hurt; it tore the fragments of her heart into jagged shards.
Far too mature for her age, Layla accepted Dori’s answer even though it was clear from her expression that she didn’t believe it. Dori hugged her daughter, pain stinging her heart, and tucked her in for the night. As Dori tried to stand up, Layla held onto her with one hand and gently placed the other on Dori’s cheek.
“I love you and I like you and I like you and I love you Mommy,” said a melancholy three year old.
Smiling, Dori finished the familiar cadence. “I like you and I love you and I love you and I like you too, now go to bed.” She hoped Layla hadn’t noticed the way her voice cracked and now hard she had to swallow as she said that. Before the tears escaped, she quickly left the little girl’s room.
Dori made her way back to the kitchen. She was trying to salvage the dinner by keeping it warm without drying it out. After another hour, she opened the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. When the clock chimed again, her share of the bottle was gone and she began packing the elaborate dinner away. Amir still hadn’t returned by the time she climbed into bed.
She lay in the dark silence contemplating the evening and the painful throb in her chest. She had been so excited by her husband’s accomplishment; she was finally compelled to reconnect with him. She wanted to support him with the impromptu dinner celebration. She was thinking of her girls’ excitement as they threw themselves into the decorations for the evening. She was thinking about the food that would now surely go uneaten. She was pondering her guilt and her broken heart. Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep, waking up several times with a start, reaching for Amir and coming up empty hande Cp eone hand ad.
Finally, when she woke up around three in the morning, he was there. He grunted as she reached for his comfort in the night.
“Hi Honey, where were you? You didn’t leave a note,” Dori whispered in the dark.
“I sold Al Hadiyah. I was out celebrating,” Amir murmured coldly. In his tone, Dori heard the unspoken words, “I don’t have to explain my every action to you.” The conversation was over.
Dori tried to find sleep again with Amir’s lack of compassion echoing in her ears. A slow tear ran down her cheek and fell silently on her pillow. Before long, she would steal away into the night, again looking for the box that held her peace.
It seemed like a distant memory as Dori shoveled her truck out the next morning. She didn’t dare wake Amir for help. He had been out late and she didn’t want to face him this morning. She tried not to focus on the pain that was still throbbing in her chest and knee as she cursed the raging storm. It was crazy to go out in this, but she had to make it to the feed store today. Finally, as Dori was forced to spend every ounce of her effort on the treacherous drive, she was able to find the numbness she had been waiting for.
The road was winding and steep with several impossible stop signs. It seemed as though she could walk faster than she was driving as she inched closer to her destination. Every successful turn was a small triumph.
She was descending the steepest of the hills which ended in a sharp right turn followed by a stop sign. She started tapping the brakes from the top of the hill. The speedometer read three miles per hour. She wished that this road had been better plowed. If she made it through the stop sign, the worst of the drive would be over. The dull wind had been punctuated with fiercer gusts all morning, and she had been careful not to be blinded by the white-outs. As she was nearing the turn, a sudden gust of wind tore out of the surrounding forest, throwing snow into the air and erasing the world around
Far too mature for her age, Layla accepted Dori’s answer even though it was clear from her expression that she didn’t believe it. Dori hugged her daughter, pain stinging her heart, and tucked her in for the night. As Dori tried to stand up, Layla held onto her with one hand and gently placed the other on Dori’s cheek.
“I love you and I like you and I like you and I love you Mommy,” said a melancholy three year old.
Smiling, Dori finished the familiar cadence. “I like you and I love you and I love you and I like you too, now go to bed.” She hoped Layla hadn’t noticed the way her voice cracked and now hard she had to swallow as she said that. Before the tears escaped, she quickly left the little girl’s room.
Dori made her way back to the kitchen. She was trying to salvage the dinner by keeping it warm without drying it out. After another hour, she opened the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. When the clock chimed again, her share of the bottle was gone and she began packing the elaborate dinner away. Amir still hadn’t returned by the time she climbed into bed.
She lay in the dark silence contemplating the evening and the painful throb in her chest. She had been so excited by her husband’s accomplishment; she was finally compelled to reconnect with him. She wanted to support him with the impromptu dinner celebration. She was thinking of her girls’ excitement as they threw themselves into the decorations for the evening. She was thinking about the food that would now surely go uneaten. She was pondering her guilt and her broken heart. Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep, waking up several times with a start, reaching for Amir and coming up empty hande Cp eone hand ad.
Finally, when she woke up around three in the morning, he was there. He grunted as she reached for his comfort in the night.
“Hi Honey, where were you? You didn’t leave a note,” Dori whispered in the dark.
“I sold Al Hadiyah. I was out celebrating,” Amir murmured coldly. In his tone, Dori heard the unspoken words, “I don’t have to explain my every action to you.” The conversation was over.
Dori tried to find sleep again with Amir’s lack of compassion echoing in her ears. A slow tear ran down her cheek and fell silently on her pillow. Before long, she would steal away into the night, again looking for the box that held her peace.
It seemed like a distant memory as Dori shoveled her truck out the next morning. She didn’t dare wake Amir for help. He had been out late and she didn’t want to face him this morning. She tried not to focus on the pain that was still throbbing in her chest and knee as she cursed the raging storm. It was crazy to go out in this, but she had to make it to the feed store today. Finally, as Dori was forced to spend every ounce of her effort on the treacherous drive, she was able to find the numbness she had been waiting for.
The road was winding and steep with several impossible stop signs. It seemed as though she could walk faster than she was driving as she inched closer to her destination. Every successful turn was a small triumph.
She was descending the steepest of the hills which ended in a sharp right turn followed by a stop sign. She started tapping the brakes from the top of the hill. The speedometer read three miles per hour. She wished that this road had been better plowed. If she made it through the stop sign, the worst of the drive would be over. The dull wind had been punctuated with fiercer gusts all morning, and she had been careful not to be blinded by the white-outs. As she was nearing the turn, a sudden gust of wind tore out of the surrounding forest, throwing snow into the air and erasing the world around
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