Not this Sunday

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that life isn’t always scary all the time. Or so I was taught. I believed that scary was like the horror movies, full of action, drama, monsters. But going into my sheltered childhood, I see that horror is in silent pauses, the paces we can’t count, the silent complacency of our day in and day out goings on. The peace in between the horror is what bothers me the most. How can we enjoy our moments when horror is so steady, so unrelenting?

I have had a very straight forward life, with a relatively normal existence. My husband and I are high school sweethearts. I didn’t really date anyone before him and either did he. We got an apartment together, a car and we both went to college. It wasn’t until he proposed to me at our annual New Year’s house party that we got engaged a few years into our budding adulthood. After marriage, I got pregnant with our first baby, a girl named Therese. Nothing out of the ordinary or staged for disaster, or so I thought. I did have a bit of a scare in high school, I thought we were going to break up. Not for any real reason. I think my husband, Frank, wanted to explore other options. We ended up being ok.

So why am I talking about scary and horror and stuff I technically shouldn’t know anything about minus watching horror movies?

It’s because I feel so dead inside. I feel lively outside. I smile. I laugh. I laugh really loudly and I talk about my daughter and my job and my dinner dates, brunch circles and the fact that everyday is accounted for. There is purpose. I don’t think about it. I just do it. Like in Pretty Woman, “I’m like a robot. I just do it.” But instead of being with men, I am like that in every interaction.

Frank is like that. I used to think he only acted with others. With me, I’d like to think it was more real. Not that Frank isn’t real. It’s just that, we can’t talk about anything past our schedules, our plans and what’s coming next. I’m a planner and I enjoy calling and messaging others to make plans, dates and appointments. But? I feel like it’s so lackluster lately. Maybe I’ve always felt this way.

“How’s fatherhood holding up? You enjoying it?” Our mutual friend asked Frank at a Saturday dinner.

Frank chuckled in a perfectly cued way that feels so rehearsed, “It’s great. It has its ups and downs, but it’s a life changing thing. Right, hon?” He looked to me.

I nodded and chuckled. “Definitely can be a challenge but it’s been one of the most important things…”

I keep jabbering on. Frank always had this grin plastered on his face no matter what.

Why does my life feel like it was already scheduled before I lived it?

Sunday came and Frank told me to get ready to go see my parents for dinner like we do every Sunday. I feel suffocated. I can’t even have one minute to myself without it being accounted for. I’m a damn bird in a gilded cage.

Even my shower routine takes fifteen minutes. Ten minutes to lather, rinse, dry. Five minutes to get dressed. I tried to sing a little tune and it got chased away by Frank.

“Sandra, we gotta get to that lunch by noon. Then we are going to your mama’s…”

I felt myself sinking into despair. I needed some air. Not literal air. Just something different.

Something fresh.

“Frank?” I go out of the bathroom, still applying my lipstick.

Frank turned, looking at me expectantly, “You ready?”

“Can we, can we just stay home? Just today?”

Frank looked at me like I grew two heads. “No. We have to get to lunch, you know that.”

I sighed. “But Frank, it’s just one lunch. We never cancel. Let’s just relax. Cuddle,” I smiled at him but his face was a stone wall.

“We don’t have time. We need to go,” Frank said but hesitated. “But, if you really want to, you’ll need to give the excuse.”

“Why does there need to be an excuse?” I complained. “Let’s just say we’re spending the day together.”

“My parents are expecting Therese,” Frank looked more impatient than ever. “You gotta call them up. Then message Tim and Fran.”

I sighed. More work than I wanted for a slice of freedom.

“Can you call them?” I said. I knew this was the last straw for Frank. He sighed angrily, looking at his phone hastily.

Frank frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He always did this if something didn’t go his way.

“What’s gotten into you? You are the one that planned this lunch, Sandra.”

I know he’s right. I felt myself ready to give in. Suddenly, Frank is hugging me and kissed my ear. Just like he knew I liked it.

“We can stay in. Just call up our people.”

I nodded, calling my mother-in-law.

“Hello?” She answered right away. “Are you all almost here?”

I sighed. “Uh, Felice, I don’t think we’ll be coming today.”

“Oh no. Is the baby sick?”

I took in a breath. “No. She’s ok. Little tired, but not sick.”

“Why then? Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing is wrong. Frank and I, I mean, we all just want to be here and…” I felt myself struggling to articulate my answer. I never said this before. I never tried to make time before for myself.

“We were looking forward to seeing our granddaughter.”

She started buzzing in my ear about keeping to our word, how she knows my parents want to see us too.

Why does everyone need to get in our business? I think I must’ve let them think it’s ok to do it since they’re so comfortable to pervade every single moment I’m here on this earth. I hear myself agreeing out loud as she kept talking. Frank frowned as we got our daughter in the car seat and started driving.

We sat in silence. It was the worst silence I ever had sat in. Feeling trapped in a bubble of complacency and non-action never felt so scary. I didn’t realize that this feeling was something I had often felt. I felt choked up. Strangled. The niceties of our day were worse than a punch to my face.

Would I be living like this for eternity? I knew others had lives that were actually bad. Why was I even complaining? I had a house, a husband, a darling daughter. I had food, water, a nice bed. We had done this exact Sunday so many times, I didn’t realize I was on auto-pilot.

How can something that looks so perfect and beautiful feel so wrong? What’s wrong with me? I feel so lost.

But, tying up the loose ties in my broken-up mind, I tell myself this for next week: not this Sunday.