He Should Have Just Walked Away

Mark could never forget what he had seen through the keyhole all those years ago. He guessed some things from his childhood that were just imprinted on his mind forever.

He looked down at his wife, Alana. She was beautiful. The best thing that had happened to him.

She opened her eyes, probably in response to his stare. They were glazed, satisfied. Her lips trembled like she might speak, but she chose to savour the silence—the love between them.

His mind wandered back to the keyhole. He was eight years old. It was a Sunday. He had been up early. On Sundays, he always climbed into his parents' bed. They enjoyed a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit together. Then, they would get up and head to church.

Why was he thinking about this now? Of all items, why now?

Alana was going to notice that he was not committed, and he did not need that. They had only just gotten back on good terms after a series of disagreements.

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Her response was positive. That was a good sign, he thought. "I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you too, darling,” she replied, snuggling into his arms.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

He drifted back.

He had been told never to enter his parents' room without first knowing and asking if he could come in. On that morning, he had done as he had been told.

His father had replied, “No, come back later; it is early,” he had said, struggling to catch his breath.

Mark had been taken aback. This had not happened before. If only he had not done what he did next, he would not be having these thoughts, especially now, at this time.

He had looked through the keyhole.

He couldn’t explain what he had seen, but he had, and now it was haunting him.

Why was his father lying on top of his mother?

Why didn’t they have their pyjamas on?

Everyone wore pyjamas, something that he had not done for the last ten years. Neither he nor Alana ever wrote anything to bed.

At the time, it made no sense to him.

Why was his father grunting and his mother moaning?

Was he hurting his mother?

He wanted to burst into the room and yell at his father, "Stop, you're hurting Mum; stop!”

He was fixated. He didn’t like what he was seeing, but he couldn’t move away from the keyhole. Why?

Why? He kept asking himself.

His father let out a big grunt and flopped down beside his mother, who hastily covered herself.

Mark panicked and ran back to his room. Back in bed, he retraced in his mind what he had seen. He wanted to ask his father why he was hurting his mother and what he was doing. He knew from experience that some things you just didn’t ask. If he had told him to go away, then that was what he should have done.

His father has already been strict with him. If he disobeyed, his father would slap him with an old slipper. His dad saved it just for that. He could feel the sting as he tried to refocus on Alana.

It was too late.

“What’s wrong, darling?" she asked. “You have broken out in a cold sweat? Is it really that bad?” she followed with a cheeky smile on her face.

He smiled back at her.

“No, baby, of course not,”

"I think I am coming down with a cold,” he lied.

“Poor baby, why don’t I make us a cup of tea, and maybe we can try again tonight?”

“I’m sorry, darling, that would be lovely; it’s a date,” as he kissed her passionately on the lips.

“Ohhh! I am not sure I can wait,” said Alana, getting up and putting on her dressing gown.

Mark slumped back in the bed.

A few years later, at boarding school, he finally got what happened that Sunday morning. So many times, he wished he had just walked away and not looked through the keyhole.

It was something that he needed to address. He made a mental note to bring it up with his doctor next time he saw him. He turned his thoughts to what he could do to make this evening special for Alan, to make up for his poor performance.

Till next time,

Calvin

Submitted for the "Through the Keyhole" challenge: