Sunday, 25 June 2023

'It's Too Late' by Lisa Weber


I quickly glance at the girls in the back seat, still huddled together in the blanket I wrapped them up in. It's not cold, but it's dark and it's late, and I felt the need to protect them somehow. I wish I could cover their eyes and ears, too. I wish they didn't have to see the glowing red sign of the bar when I pull up. I wish they didn't have to hear me cry when I return to the car without their father. I wish they didn't have to witness a love slowly dying.

*

I look at the clock. I know any second, the door will fly open and I'll see my wife, the anger flashing in her dark eyes. She will stomp over to me, demand I come home with her. It's a game we play. She pretends she can convince me to put down the beer and come home. I pretend I'm not fighting demons. No one wins. I won't leave with her. I'll return home in the early morning hours after being somewhere I shouldn't have been. We'll fight. The girls will sit on the floor in front of our locked bedroom door and cry.

*

I'm in the back seat of the car with my little sister. It's really dark outside and I wish we were home in bed. I'm too tired to go look for Daddy again. I wish Daddy would just stay home and not make Mommy cry. I wish they wouldn't fight. The fairy in "Pinocchio" said when you wish upon a star your dreams come true. But I tried that and it didn't work.


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