Foolishly Falling for You

1

"I don't understand why you treat me this way," I whisper softly, looking at the hardwood floor.

My husband stands by the door, regarding himself in the mirror in disinterest in my words, in my pleas. The only thing that interests him, at this moment is his cufflinks. I sniffle and looking away from him. I don't know why I keep trying.

"Honestly, you are so dramatic," he rolls his eyes. "So I don't care about your little temper tantrums," he waved his hands dismissively.

I hold my wrists and look away. He doesn't care about me. And I'm sure it sounds like a spoiled wife's outlandish claim but it's the truth. He told me before. He tells me every night.

That things I ask for are too much. I give him everything. I always have. And he stands, aloof, with that face on his face, like he's looking through me.

"I..." I whisper, but he's already moving, exiting the room. I sometimes think he married me as a placeholder for someone different. Like I'm just here, taking up space until the person who belongs here arrives.

"Are you listening to me?" I cry out, grabbing his suit.

He looks back at me. His face is even. He is immune to my pain. Immune to my anguish. His shield against my agony is impenetrable, no matter what, splashing my own longing back at me like acid on my skin.

"You're not saying anything new, Anita. It's all the same. Every day. I have nothing more to give you. I told you you'd regret marrying me."

He shoulders away from me, and I sink to the floor, looking down at my wrists the bloody wrists he doesn't even notice.

I would say I regret it. Pining after him, ruining my life, my reputation, and my future for him. But what could it do?

My husband does not love me, and if that were the worst of it...maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

My husband doesn't see me.

I pick myself up and sigh, sitting by the window, watching him. He glanced up at the window I sit in, before getting in his carriage and riding away.

I would've done anything for him. It's pathetic, isn't it? I know it is. But there was nothing I wouldn't have done, just for him to look my way. For him to see me.

But he has nothing more to give me, that's what he says. I heave a sigh, leaning my forehead against the cool glass.

My wrists burn, and so does my liver. My husband will be gone for a few weeks, a short trip compared to the others he takes to escape me. I can see now, what a burden my affection is for him.

I am almost ashamed. It was never that simple though, was it? And of what need do I have of him now? His love is unattainable, I cannot continue this useless pining any longer.

I told you you would regret marrying me.

I can't remember when he said that. How old was I, I wonder when I failed to heed that warning. Was I old enough to know better?

I sit on the floor of my bedroom, resting my head against the windowsill, my fingers digging into the grain of the wood under me haphazardly. Where do I go from here? Who am I outside of Anita Mendoza, the wife of Admiral Lance, hero of the Esponzia Republic? Genius Knight Protege, heir of a family so strong, the King keeps them in check himself.

And then there's me. Anita. Beloved daughter of the duke, the flower of the empire. 

We're the start of a bad joke, and our marriage is the punchline. 

I am the punchline, and now I must admit...I laugh at it. At me. At the bad joke that is me, that is us.

It's funny. Even I can admit it's funny. But when the laugh is over, and the curtains have fallen, and the crowd has dispersed, and the cast has received their flowers and gone on to bigger and better things...there I remain.

Laughing.

Still laughing. 

I was never part of the cast. I never knew it was a play. I am the last to get the joke. I am still here, though the lights are off and there is no one to perform for but myself. 

I am the joke and I am the cast, and I am the audience. I put my hands together.

Slowly. I am alone in my room even the servants have vacated the dark space. But I smile, and clap slowly.

It was a good run. But there will be no encore. I have given the performance of my life. I have given everything I had to this, to him.

I'm done now. I take my final bow. And all there is left is to exit stage left.

I am done with the role of Anita Mendoza, Admiral Lance Mendoza's discarded wife.

I want to be more.