An Extract From Don’t Cry in Front of Him by Lottie Murphy Tingman

I begged myself not to cry; tugged my knees up to my chest and turned away from him. The side lamp glared artificially; a half glass of red wine next to it; judging me. Or perhaps I was judging it. The cheap merlot as dark as the December sky outside; as still as the breathe trapped in my throat. The breathe, not my breathe because what belonged to me anymore? I don’t recognise you anymore sweet one. Fierce one, where are you? 

I swallowed, bit my lips together and prayed. How many other sweet ones are turning their backs from the person they sleep next to tonight and praying for a way out of that bed, of their world as they know it. Praying for some fire. An atomic bomb. Hey Universe, God, Anyone, set things alight even if it is myself. 

I used every last bit of energy I had to stop a panicked sound leave my lips. I reached out for the rouge that’s maroon tones had already stained those lips. My lips. Mine. I downed it, turned off the light and plunged into darkness. I don’t need the light, I’m artificial enough. 

A silent tear now rolls down my cheek, it stings and balances gracefully on my top lip. The saltiness of it is a comfort that at the same time distresses me. This single silent tear means I’m still human, I’m still here but where did you come from tiny tear? I’m empty inside. This is how I have fallen asleep for the last thirteen nights but tonight is different. Tonight is my wedding night. 

We didn’t have sex tonight. But I think that would have been better than what did happen. It’s not normal to cry while you perform oral sex is it? That’s what happened about twenty minutes ago. The midnight rain was plummeting the sky light, a force of nature overshadowing my pain. More evidence that I’m no longer worth while. That my prayers remain unanswered. He didn’t notice my eyes clenched shut, my tears running into my nose into my mouth into him. He took pleasure from my tears without knowing. Who can blame him? 

It wasn’t always like this. I can remember the last time I wasn’t screaming inside myself. It was seven years ago. When I fell in the love for the first time. When I fell in love with a man who is not laying by my side now. I’ve married the wrong person and now our backs are turned to each other, an invisible chain locking our souls together, my mouth a toxic mix of wine, of him and of the tears that somehow find their way out of my soul. Perhaps I’ll choke on the toxicity.

By Lottie Murphy Tingman

*note from author- I promise this gets more cheerful.

Owned by Lottie Murphy Tingman. Please do not share this writing unless you have permission.