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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/964707-Interrupted-Flight
by sramos
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Melodrama · #964707
Comment on a descent into dependance
         Tara sat alone on the Tucson patio, staring out across the unfamiliar desert. Maybe it was because she was more accustomed to the lush, East Texas landscape. Maybe it was the harshness of the moonlight reflected off the cacti. Maybe it was the certain knowledge that her life had fallen apart. Whatever the reason, Tara could not see the savage beauty of the Sedona night. As she pulled deep from the last drag of her last cigarette, she listened to the fading hiccups of her three year-old-daughter, all that was left of earlier sobs, through the open window. Tara knew the baby couldn’t understand what was happening. The toddler knew only she had left her home late in the night, leaving her toys and preschool far behind to come here, to the grandparents she couldn’t remember. She knew she missed her friends, and her preschool. And she knew she wanted her daddy.

         “I want him, too”, Tara wanted to scream, into the night, “God help me, baby, I want him, too.”

         Nothing would erase from Tara’s heart the first time she had met Alexander Speck. Tall and broad of shoulder, he had walked into the convenience store she was working to make ends meet. Thick, black hair waved into green eyes, and a crooked smile adorned a thick, soft mouth. He hadn’t been clever. He hadn’t been original. Alexander had stared at Tara’s thick dark hair and big brown eyes, shocked at their loveliness, and uttered a line she’d heard a thousand times before. Usually around last call at a bar.

         "Look at that, Heaven must be missing an angel. Where do you hide your wings?”

         Tara wiped her hands on a towel as she moved behind the register, rolling her eyes as she went.

         “Can I help you?”, she asked in a polite, if formal tone.

         "No love, huh? That’s okay. I can wait. Let me get a pack of KOOL filter kings in a box”

         Handing the cigarettes over, Tara had counted out Alex’s change and completed the transaction. She had watched him just a little too long as he walked away and when she returned to her work, Tara met the worried eyes of her partner on the three to eleven shift.

         “Be careful with that on, Tar. He’s more than you can handle.”

         “I’ll never see him again, Ana. That’s that.”

         That, after all, wasn’t that. Tara had never been pursued as energetically as Alex pursued her. Flowers were delivered to the store daily, all signed the same way: Where do you hide your wings? Every afternoon when Tara reported to work, her boss would silently hand her a bouquet and grin. Every day at five o’clock on the dot, a different restaurant would deliver an elaborate dinner, always with Mr. Speck’s compliments. On one memorable occasion, a beautiful blond boy, about eight years old had walked in, dressed completely in white with a silver garland halo perched precariously on his head. And every night at precisely eleven o’clock, there was Alex to purchase a pack of cigarettes and to offer to take her home.

         Now, ensconced in the safety of her father’s home, Tara looked back and wondered if she shouldn’t have been warned by the ferocity of his pursuit. Should she have seen something in Alex’s burning need to gain her acquiescence? Should she have known he sought only to acquire her? At the time, though, Tara was only flattered. The undivided attention made her feel special, beautiful. It really was only a matter of time until she finally agreed to dinner with Alex. Whereas many men would have felt comfortable in their victory, Alex only redoubled his efforts. He never missed an opportunity to tell Tara how beautiful she was, how lucky he felt to be in her presence, and, within a few months of their dating, how much he loved her.

         It surprised no one when Tara and Alex announced their intention to find an apartment together, to make a home. And a beautiful apartment it was, complete with vaulted ceilings, and a thick, majestic fireplace to ward off the Colorado winters. Making breakfast in her own kitchen, Tara could not help but reflect on the perfection of her life, and how blessed she had been the day Alexander Speck had walked into the corner store with a slight swagger and a cheesy pick up line.

         Alex had taken to driving Tara back and forth to work. He was worried, he said about what could happen to her on the bus that time of night. Tara accepted the ride, gratefully, never having felt comfortable on the RTD. It did mean, though, that sometimes Alex would have to wait in the parking lot when she did not get off work exactly on time. And this happened quite a bit. Tara was a bright, friendly girl who would sometimes find herself delayed by customers who wanted to stay and talk. On a particularly late night, Tara climbed into the front seat of Alex’s car to find his jaw clenched, and his fingers tight on the wheel. Wordlessly, he waited for her to settle herself in the seat and sped off to their cozy apartment.

         Tara sat in her confusion, not sure what to say. She had never seen Alex this angry before and she certainly had no idea what could be the cause.

         “I’m sorry I was so late, baby” she began nervously.

         “We’ll talk at home” was the only reply she was to receive.

         Tara entered her apartment first, closely followed by Alex.

         “Now, what’s your prob…”

         She was taken by surprise by the sharp blow Alex dealt to her midsection. Tara gasped at the combination of pain, shock, and humiliation coursing through her body. It was the first time in her life she’d been struck by another human being, and for just the briefest heartbeat, she was sure the contact had been accidental. It wasn’t. Now, in the quiet of the Arizona night, Tara could still feel the brick of her precious fireplace between her shoulder blades. She could almost mimic the harshness of her breathing as she struggled to recover from the vicious, unexpected blow. And she could see the heavy rubber treading on Alex’s white Scotty Pippin Nike hurling through the dead air towards her chest. All there was past that point was sensory memory. The sound of his heavy breathing as he released his tension on her unresisting body, the smell of her animalistic fear pulsing through the room, the feel of the carpet as she drug her body desperately to her bedroom floor after he was spent.

         As sure as Tara was that tomorrow would not have the audacity to surface, it did. Dawn crested bright and clear, bringing with it residual aches and pains and the soon to become permanent humiliation. Always there was the knowledge she hadn’t fought back, hadn’t cried for help, hadn’t run. No, she’d begged. Begged for mercy, begged him to stop, begged to understand why.

         Alex walked backwards into the bedroom that long ago day. In his arms he held a breakfast tray, complete with French toast and a deep red rosebud. He’d helped Tara to the bathroom, washed her face reverently, and lay her out on the bed as a porcelain doll. Not one word of apology, or explanation was uttered. In fact, no mention of the monster lurking between the lovers was mentioned at all. And in some quiet, unexplained place in her heart, Tara decided being with Alex was better than being alone. For two days, Tara called in sick to work. On the third day, she went into the job she’d loved and quit, just as Alex had requested. Never before, she reflected, had a man loved her enough to feel jealousy. And really, weren’t love and passion supposed to be uncontrollable? It would never happen again, of course. There would be no reason. She would never again give Alex reason to doubt her fidelity.

         Two weeks later, Tara contracted the worst case of the stomach flu she’d ever experienced. Constant vomiting left her weak and tired enough to make the trip to her doctor’s office. Pregnant. Wonderful. Ecstatic. This was it, she knew. The last piece missing from her nearly perfect life, the completion of her family.

         Pregnancy agreed with Tara. Once her brief bout with morning sickness passed, she carried a glow that was second only to Alex’s. He took her to his mother’s house, introduced her to his family, fretted about every bite she took into her mouth and worried that she wasn’t going to get enough sleep. Tara lapped at the attention like a starving pup. And for months, secure in her love and life, all was good.

         Insidiously, Alex took advantage of this idyll to take control of Tara’s life. She could see that now. The neighborhood they lived in was much too dangerous to raise a child, and they moved halfway across the country to Texas to begin anew, leaving behind her friends. Initially, Tara’s pregnancy prevented her working because Alex would not risk his first child’s health by foisting on her an exhausted mother. No, Tara was not to continue to wear the clothes she’d always worn, they were much too tight and would endanger the baby. Ruthlessly, Tara repressed the concerns erupting in her head and heart. This was her love, her life, her universe. How could she doubt him? Especially now that she was far away and had no money, nowhere to turn.

         Alexis Speck was evicted into the world, kicking and screaming in late August. Fat, and healthy with a wealth of thick brown hair, and big brown eyes set to seduce hearts. She immediately stole the hearts of her mother and father. Tara was released from the hospital and took her precious daughter home to cherish and love, secure in the knowledge that now, finally, her fairytale could begin. It took less than twelve hours for Alex to become irritated at the noise and mess created by his beloved progeny, and Tara’s role became clear from the first. Above all, she was to ensure that little Alexis never disturbed her father.

         It was amazing, Tara reflected, how normal any situation can eventually feel. As easily as it is to become accustomed to any prison, Tara adjusted to her life. Alex was to be, without question, the all powerful center of her life. Nothing was to come before his comfort, his needs. And on days when Tara could preserve that order, all was quiet. He told her he needed her, made love to her, played with the baby, and sometimes didn’t come home for days at a time. On days when she became distracted, or less than attentive, there would be punishment, swift and sure. But even that she could bear for the sake of her family. After all, bruises faded, burns healed, and always Alex was immensely apologetic. Anything could be forgiven, for the sake of her child.

         Then came the day Tara had the reality of her life slammed into her heart like a freight train. Alexis, beautiful, innocent, Alexis, the center of her life lay on her stomach under the dining room table playing with her dolls.

         “Why’s this fucking dinner so cold, you stupid bitch!”

         In shock at the filthy words emitting from the mouth of her perfect child, Tara turned to see the rain of blows landing on Barbie’s head. Until that moment, she had convinced herself that her plight was her own, that her daughter was untouched. It was in that moment Tara determined to run.

         Dinner that evening was uneventful. Alex’s meal was presented flawlessly and on-time, as demanded. He slept with his wife, and drifted off to sleep in front of the television. By the time he was ready to demand his breakfast, Tara and Alexis were on a Greyhound aimed for the parents she hadn’t spoken to in years, several hundred dollars in pilfered cash resting uneasily in a battered Care Bears backpack at their feet.

         For hundreds of miles, Tara worried about what she would tell her father. Should she admit the shame she had lived with for four years, tell him everything and beg for mercy? Present herself and her child for a visit and hope to sort out the facts later? She was still wondering as she knocked on the apartment door. As the door opened, Tara opened her mouth to speak, but all that emerged were great, shaking sobs. Two nearly incomprehensible hours later and here she sat, alone on the patio, wondering how she got there. Tomorrow, he might come. Tomorrow, her parents might make her leave. Tomorrow, she would have to remember how to hold a job. But tonight, Tara knew that, if only for her daughter, she would find a way. She hoped, some day, she would remember how to try for herself, but now, Alexis would be the reason. Tara rose, unsteady as an old woman and took one last breathe of desert air before turning to join her daughter in the spare bedroom her mother had made up for the night. She had a promise to make to tiny Alexis. Mama was determined to remember how to fly.
© Copyright 2005 sramos (sramos93 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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