by Mae Carter
The wife cleans daily, the sweat beads falling down her back, with the taste of salt lingering in her mouth. “But there’s still dishes in the sink?” says the mother in law. The wife makes dinner for the family, the pungent spice filling the room. “But that’s not how I used to make it” says the mother in law. The wife joins family time hearing the joy filled conversation drain from the room. “But you suck out all the fun when you come” says the mother in law. The wife tries to become close with her mother in law, the thick smell of her perfume giving a sense of becoming trapped. “But you’re unlovable” says the mother in law. The wife becomes distant, the feeling of love has become a long forgotten memory. “But don’t you care for my son?” says the mother in law. The wife sends divorce papers, the crisp smell of the ink straight from the printer sending a strong message. “But what will happen to my son when you leave?” says the mother in law. Looking at the untouched face of her daughter in law.
