The note

The rain fell in enormous drops outside. Mr. Martin Swanson, stood quietly by the window of his down town apartment, which he shared with his wife. It was his first time being married and he thought somehow he should have felt something, a change, or anything! Instead he felt nothing.
Mrs. Veronica Swanson, was asleep on the couch in the living room, where, they had, under an hour ago, had their first argument of their life as a married couple. He thinks it was rather silly, but what did he know.
Outside the window a woman with a large black umbrella was making her way towards the new mall. The wind was having its way with the umbrella, which the poor lady fought desperately to hold on to. “Women!” Mr. Martin Swanson said.
Moving away from the window Mr. Martin Swanson made his way over to the dinner table, where, a crystal decanter stood triumphantly with a vintage wine they had received as a wedding gift. Two wine glasses sat wearily on the table. One, by his chair, the other, next to the decanter. Veronica had drank half her glass and he figured he might as well go finish it off for her.
The wedding last week was rather small as most of his family couldn’t make it. “That’s pretty telling!” veronica had said, when he notified her of their inability to attend. She was of the opinion, this was somehow because of her.
It was true, on several instances veronica and his sister Bethany had gotten into arguments over nothing in particular. And though they had long since agreed they both simply couldn’t get along. Mr. Martin Swanson did not accept Veronica’s point of view that his entire family refused to attend for that very reason. “It was logistics!” he tried to affirm, to no avail, “We moved from the mid-west to the east coast to be closer to your family! So now it is easier for them to attend than my folks. You know they don’t have any money.” He told her, to no avail!
So there they were Mr. and Mrs. Martin and Veronica Swanson! “Well everything in this life is a struggle!” he thought. “Why not struggle to stay in love?” he sat on his chair by the table and tipped her half empty glass to his head.
Two hours later, the rain was pouring even heavier than before and was now enhanced by the occasional flash of lighting and its accompanying crashes of thunder.
Mrs. Veronica Swanson had just been awaken by an ear piercing blast. She went to the window and closed the curtain. It was dark outside and the orange glow of the street lamp’s metal halide bulbs spread across the room in swatches. She turned on the lighting in the apartment, and saw that her husband had left the general area. “Must be upstairs.” She thought. She straightened the cushions on the couch and chair, swept the floor, then picked up the empty decanter and the two empty glasses.
She was in the kitchen rinsing the crystal when a thud could be heard upstairs. “Well a bottle of wine, serves you right!” she said. When she was done with the house work she picked up a book and read while she sat in the arm chair. “Drinks the wedding gift to himself, must a married his self!” she says as she read her book.
They met one October evening. He was a waiter then. She was newly transferred to the Ohio state hospital and was out for the evening with her new colleagues, who were trying to make her feel welcomed. He had been working at that restaurant for some time and was known by several of the members of her dinner party.
The resident surgeon was obviously disappointed that she was dating a waiter and not someone ‘a little higher up on the social ladder’ was how he had put it. But there they were. Married! She smiled at the thought and paused her reading for a second, slowly ‘should I go up there? Maybe they could talk for a moment, if he could manage not falling over!’ she thought.
Mrs. Veronica Swanson got up and went to the kitchen where she put some water on the stove. She had already been prepared when the kettle started whistling. Having already placed the tea bags in the teapot and placed the tea pot along with two teacups on a serving platter, she poured the water from the kettle into the teapot and placed a sleeve of snack crackers along with some cheese she’d sliced on the tray next to two saucers.
It is surprising that four years went by so quickly. They had hit it off instantly, he was rather great with words which would make anyone stop what they were doing and pay attention to him. He had waited until she was standing alone smoking a cigarette. Walking over he asked for a light. Then one thing led to another and they were exchanging contact info.
He would call twenty times an hour which at first she thought was annoying. But after some getting used to, she found she couldn’t do without his attention. Now she called at every chance she got.
They had their first real argument in a hotel room they had occupied for a weekend getaway. He had gone back to the room leaving her by the pool and upon his return found she was engaged in a conversation with some guy who was also staying at the hotel. It would have passed without occasion had the guy not up and leave upon noticing her companion was making his way across the pool deck.
Martin was beside himself as to what would have caused his return to initiate the departure of the other guy. She swore up and down that he was nothing to worry about. Martin never got over it. Every time they fought, he would quickly point out how she could not recall what the conversation was about. That was the beginning of the end of her fairy tale romance.
He cheated, she forgave him. He hit her during several of his alcohol fueled rages, she cried, moved out, but she eventually forgave him.
Mr. Martin Swanson had gotten done drinking the last of the wine the decanter had to offer. His wife was still on the couch fast asleep. ‘How did they get so worn down?’ he wondered. They met at a restaurant he was working over four years ago. She was new in town, he, a staple at Guiliamo’s an Italian restaurant in Cleveland Ohio. The Ohio state Hospital’s staff would dine at Guiliamo’s whenever they had some event to celebrate, and that evening was no different. He could tell from his motions that the resident surgeon was doting on Veronica Mansford, and it was probably his idea to take her out using the rest of his staff as smoke screen to not have to face a rejection of his diner offer by the new nurse. Heck, he had even ordered the most expensive dishes and their costliest champagne. ‘Guys can be so foolish at times. This successful man who had it all simply didn’t know how to pick up chicks. A successful woman wants to feel the rush of power flowing through her fingertips’ Martin had told his friend Travis as they watched from across the room
Martin watched the table all night and was making jokes with Travis as to the awkwardness of the group. How elated he was when Veronica Mansford was standing by herself, having a cigarette. The unfortunate doctor had wined and dined the new girl which was who veronica was to Martin then as he knew not her name, only to have his table’s waiter go over and right before his eyes spark up a conversation with the object of his desires.
They seemed rather perfect, Martin and Veronica. But there was the battle with trust, he’d caught hints of her secret life on a few occasions even once noticing her ‘I love you’ text message which came into her phone while she was in the shower, he should have left her phone alone, but ‘one needed to confirm one’s suspicions. Right?’ he thought. No name was affixed to the number which had texted her and he never mentioned the message.
The love had left him. He wanted nothing more than to fix the relationship, but he kept getting himself into rather difficult situations. There was the debacle with the maid and his first child. He’d taken to the bottle heavily and his charming self, left him alone to figure things out whenever he was ‘under the waters’ as his daddy put it! Yet there they were. Married! The Swansons. They definitely were crazy, instead of separating which the average couple would have done, they married!
Martin Swanson made his way up the stairs as the rains increased outside. He thought a note was the proper thing to do, only a coward left without some last word, some sort of explanation. God he was in too deep. What would she tell her family? They all seemed so happy for her at the wedding. “All good things must end!” he thought.
He entered the room and sat before the bedside table. He couldn’t figure out what to do, he knew a letter would be appropriate. Yet he simply sat there. The rain was now a full blown storm and the lightning was rather terrifying let alone the thunder. He finally took a note pad from the drawer of the bedside table and a pen.
Mrs. Veronica Swanson, was just about to leave the kitchen and head upstairs when she paused, “oh my I almost forgot the spoons!” she said as she turned and walked over to the pantry where she retrieved two spoons and placed them on the platter alongside the crackers. Picking up the platter she went out of the kitchen and mounted the stairs.
The thunder had spooked her twice on her ascent of the stairs and she was happy when she finally arrived at the landing. There was a wall desk at the top of the landing above which a mirror stood mounted to the wall. Mrs. Veronica Swanson paused for a moment and glanced at her reflection. She rested the platter on the floor and removing her hair fastener, she brushed her hair with her hands before returning the fastener to her ponytail. She then quickly braided her ponytail, adjusted her garments and letting out a sigh, she picked up the platter and made her way to the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom was dark except for a soft glow coming from the street lamps outside. She placed the platter on the floor and flipped the light switch on the wall to its on position. It was in that moment Mrs. Veronica Swanson finally realized she was all alone in the apartment.

The note…

Veronica goodbye! I am really sorry to be leaving you like this, but you should be better off without me! Judas Somervell, lives at 23rd Bailey Avenue. His apartment is number 14. He drives a small sports car which roars pretty loudly.
He gets off work at 3:00pm daily and goes straight to his apartment. But only for an hour at most. Then he returns to the parking lot of his workplace, makes a drop off, then back to his apartment, where he tends to spend the rest of his time.
Three years he has had this routine. Before I know not what he did. Three years ago we moved here, your family. You’d said. Well! Give my regards to them, I took the wine but left the rest of the wedding gifts for you.
Goodbye my love!
Mr. Martin Swanson.
Your husband.