Fire! The night sky was on fire. A blackboard chalked with streaks of orange and red. The colors captivated Jeanette, holding her gaze until the image burned itself onto the palette of memories that painted her dreams.
Her dreams! Her nightmares! The sky was a constant in both – blue and cloudless over a sparkling azure ocean; dark and sullen, sobbing tears of frozen rain; dotted with white cotton puffs rolling across the horizon. The sky at dawn, waking cool and refreshed; the throbbing mid-day sky, creating Dali-esque images in the heat; the late afternoon sky, indecisive, gray and brooding; and the blazing night sky, perfect for romance and promises of love unending.
The sky - the scorched, charred nothingness that was the cathedral ceiling to concrete and asphalt…that was the sky that most often haunted her dreams. Even asleep, Jeanette could not forget what was and could have been. She dreamed of blessed yesterdays; had nightmares of painful todays and fantasized about tomorrows that would never be. Asleep and awake, she relived the death of trust, of vows taken and discarded, of a marriage buried under lies of omission and deception.
Jeanette lifted her gaze to the heavens and, using two fingers in a pinching motion, she symbolically snuffed out the last embers of twilight. Now, the expanse above her, that portion that was hers to own, was illuminated by hundreds of flickering points of hope. How often had Thomas, her husband, shown her the constellations…the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion’s Belt…tracing their outline in the air. She never could see them, blinded as she was by the stars in her eyes whenever he was near.
For so many years, Thomas had been the foundation she built her life upon. Willingly, she lost herself in becoming the perfect mate. And, Thomas? Well, he was perfect in every way but one. He protected her too much, and so, denied her the status of true partner. Jeanette never shared in those decisions that most affected their life together; the life Thomas promised would always be and then could not deliver. She accepted blame. She was not a stupid woman. She sensed problems but ignored their warning. Solutions were his domain.
It was not the material loss Jeanette mourned – not the house, the cars, not even financial security. She was long past needing the superficial accoutrements of the well-to-do. It was amazing how quickly she had adapted to clipping coupons, raising the thermostat and turning off lights. What she missed most was the faith, although misplaced, in Thomas' abilities; the belief that he would always do whatever was necessary to defend them against the enemy at the door. She understood that he thought he was being the man, but here was where the dreamer in Thomas and the realist in Jeanette parted ways.
No point in assigning blame. They had both made mistakes. Never again, vowed Jeanette, would she allow someone else to make decisions for her. She appreciated that Thomas had accepted full responsibility for their failure. She knew he was genuinely sorry for the pain he had caused. But… she could not forget. There was too much anger in her. Perhaps, forgiveness would come with time. Forgetting was impossible.
Jeanette stood one last time outside their former home, the windows now glowing with another family’s happiness. For a brief moment, she pined for the past. Then, like the fire in the night, the emptiness was gone. Just as the Phoenix had risen from the ashes so, too, had a new life been born.
No longer was she only someone’s daughter, wife or mother. She was on a journey. So frightening! So exciting! The sense of loss would always be with her, but now there was focus. Each day was a new adventure.
Jeanette's hands clenched as though holding tight for support. She would not fail this time. Like a feral cat, she would not be owned. She would not allow herself to be handled or touched. Aloofness would be the face she wore in public, but after dusk -- after the sun went down -- she would prowl. She would roam the streets and back alleys looking for other strays like herself. Then, when there was strength in numbers, she would strike.
Donna Carbone is the Executive Director/Playwright in Residence at the Palm Beach Institute for the Entertainment Arts, where education through entertainment is the mission statement.
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