House of the Phoenix
Maritima took one last look in the mirror, assessing her hair and makeup. Her dress was light and silky, something an elegant woman would wear. She was a natural blonde but currently her hair was dyed brown, fooling the world that she's a brunette. She had spent almost all her youth shaping her body to what she deemed perfection. She had Pilates classes six days a week and yoga on weekend mornings. Her skin was dewy and flawless. She walked like she inwardly counted her steps, and she spoke in a certain serene tone.
Thankfully she was satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. And hence she rushed to open the door. Her husband, Kingsley Navarro, was a few inches from the door. Every single day, Maritima would open the door for him, welcoming him warmly like he returned unscathed from a nuclear war somewhere. It was simply how it's done.
"Welcome home, my love" she said, wrapping her arms around him tenderly, "I can't wait to hear about your day."
"My day has been long and exhausting, but I want to hear about yours," said Kingsley, inhaling the sweet scent of his wife's cologne, the same cologne he forced her to wear every time he was around. And who was Maritima to refuse? Every luxury she owned came straight from his wallet.
While Kingsley went ahead for a refreshing drizzle, Maritima proceeded to set the table for dinner. She was also a great cook thanks to the millions of hours she spent in culinary school. Eight years ago when Kingsley's marriage proposal reached their front door, her parents didn't want her to bring shame to her family. They made sure to train her thoroughly. And for eight years, she had never let anyone down. Okay, maybe one person.
Because of her family's influence and the hardcore marital training embroidered on the walls of her brain, she had never once hired a maid. She did it all, from housekeeping to being submissive. It was taboo to complain or show that she was enervated. She did it all with a smile and a million dollar scent.
When Kingsley entered the dining room, dinner was served. They sat down for the meal.
"A family moved into the house of the Banshee today." Maritima updated her husband.
"Are they crazy?" Kingsley, who hardly swallowed his first bite, asked. "That house is as good as cursed. They were supposed to wreck it or turn into a library or something."
"I guess they got greedy. And now that I think about it, maybe the price got lowered. That's why the dad could afford it."
"What dad?"
"Oh, it's a father and daughter, the new tenants. The daughter seemed cold from afar. She said hello to nobody."
He chuckled, "I think she'll fit it in perfectly."
"Should I send them a basket of cookies tomorrow? As a welcome gift?",
"It's not like you have cookies lying around in the kitchen."
"I can bake a batch, and go around giving it to all the houses. I mean, it's something to celebrate. That house has been empty for a while -"
"Only six months."
"Still, new people entered the complex. We need to show them how good this place actually is."
"That's why I love you." It was supposed to be a romantic statement, but he said it like lying to a child. "You think this place is good. That's cute."
"It is good!" Maritima emphasized, "Look at us. Look at the other residents. We're surrounded by joy and success. It's a good place. We can even raise a baby here."
Gulp. The forbidden word; Baby.
Maritima knew she messed up when Kingsley put the knife and fork down. Not that he was full already. He just suddenly lost his appetite. Without saying a word, he picked up the napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth longer than normal. But even without a word uttered, his silence was louder than thunder.
"I'm sorry. It slipped -"
"Doesn't it wear you out?" he asked rhetorically, "What happened to never bringing up that topic ever again?"
"I know. I forgot -"
"For once, I want you to be fair to yourself. You're not meant to be a mother."
The more he spoke the more Maritima's brain muffled the sound. For him it was just another day, another bunch of words thrown at her. But she felt actual swords piercing through her flesh. She wasn't meant to be a mother? A year ago she was very pregnant and excited. She knew her life was about to change for the best. Her very own baby? What more could she have wished for?
At two months, she already had a suitcase full of baby stuff. Her mother's plane ticket was booked and the baby's room was already made and painted like a wonderland. She was more careful than ever before. All her shoes were now two inches high, maximum. Her diet was well planned by an almost impossible to hire nutritionist. There's no such thing as too much preparation, but Maritima was too prepared.
But _
It all changed on one unfortunate Friday evening, when an unfiltered information reached her email's inbox. From the moment she felt something dripping down her thigh to the point her fragile body laid on the hospital bed, it was already too late. The blame that came the following months left her completely shattered. She did expect Kingsley to divorce her, but instead he made her swear not to speak of it again. Because the trauma was too much, they agreed not to try again because _ what if?
"I'm going to bed." Kingsley got up, "I won't be helping you clear the table."
"Yes, my love, I'll do it."
She rose and started grabbing this and that while stealing glances at her exiting husband.
"We never had this conversation, Mari." he said as he left.
"Done."
She felt relieved. Avoidance: It was one of the things that made their marriage last that long. That and open communication, which sounded ironic considering the fact that Maritima vividly felt a presence of a tight rope around her neck whenever she was in bed with him.
***