After Thoughts

After Thoughts
A short story by Diana Weeks

Gwenavier was jolted awake by the vibrating yell of her one year old Dafney. Slowly Gwen scrambled from the couch, stumbling toward the sunlit kitchen. Using her hand to shade her dark blue eyes she took the baby a nippled bottle of cold milk.

The loss of warmth didn't seem to bother the child a bit. She slurped happily balancing the bottle with her feet. Gwen dove back under the comfort on the couch not wanting to face another day of fighting with her husband Al.

Last night she wouldn't sleep with him. He had been drunk all weekend and dabbing at a cocaine nosebleed.

Through the bedroom door she could see him sprawled all over their king-size bed.
"You loved getting drunk and doing drugs and going to bed with me before we married! You're not the hottie I fell for."

"We have children to bring up in the real world" Gwen remembered shouting. "You have four DWI's, you'd be fired if you weren't working for relatives," she had growled pulling the soft purple velvet cover off the bed and wrapped in it on the new sofa. He didn't come to tickle and kiss her back to his bed.

She dozed until three-year-old hands patted her face. Della smiled at her young pretty mother who whispered "Just five more minutes, go wake your daddy."

Gwen turned her back to the room and held her knees. Maybe he would be feeling guilty enough to make breakfast. When they were first married and she was still working…he made breakfast every Sunday, if she didn't make him go to church.

Al was extravagant and fun. When they first started hanging together, Gwen bragged to her best friend, Donna, "He must be rich, the other boys I've dated could barely afford to buy me a beer and maybe share a joint rolled with street shag."

Gwen was admittedly a party girl in college, looking for a husband to have fun with. Al did make her laugh, but now seemed jealous of their daughter’s demands. She felt tugs all the time. She couldn't seem to find a balance between wife and mother.

She squeezed her eyes tight and wondered why she had not known that motherhood is so constant. Maybe that's why her mother drank so much.

Gwen felt Della's fingers pulling her shoulder over. "Mommy, I can't make Daddy wake up." Just then Daf started crying. Gwen screamed at Della. "Tell your Daddy to get up now," and ran to get the baby and carried her squirming into the master bedroom.

Della was patting her daddy's face and looked at her mother. "He feels cold".

Thinking, "He didn't even pull the sheet over himself," Gwen puffed a breath past her dry lips and put her hand on Al's forehead. It felt like cool gray damp clay.

"Let's call the doctor," she said as they left the room and closed door. Gwen had to look for the cell phone to call 911. "My husband's asleep and won't wake up." she told the dispatcher and answered the unthinkable; "He doesn't seem to be breathing."

Gwen gave them the address and hung up, unable to think anymore…but her heart kept pumping reality…her husband had over dosed.

Gwen put the toddler in her highchair and poured cheerios on the tray and got a bowl for Della then started looking in the dryer for clean tee shirts for everyone.

She half expected Al to burst through the bedroom door wondering why she let him over sleep, then she started shaking and called her mother. There was no answer. She called Donna who said “I’ll beat the ambulance”.


THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED