Last laugh (Five mintes freewrite)

John wished he were dead. Dead as in not having to watch her sweep through the door wearing that special after-sex glow, dead as in not being able to do anything about it, dead as in not having to wait until she could be bothered to bring the kids so he could see them.
That perfume she’s been wearing lately, he wondered who might have given it to her, too classy for her and her sweet flowery scents. And the make-up, he could swear Ella took more trouble to look pretty than she used to.
‘I wonder if it’s Bob, she always spoke fondly of him, I could hear the excitement in her voice’. That office Christmas party, where she dragged him once, he saw the guys checking her out, but she said he was imagining things.
And he hated how she never allowed Minnie to come closer and give him a kiss. The bitch, she’d always known the girl loved Daddy more. He could understand Kevin holding back, he was older, maybe he understood more than his sister, but Minnie would never go to sleep without a hug and a kiss from Daddy, no matter how late it was. She was doing her best to drive the kids away from him and there was nothing he could do.
He’d spend hours trying to decipher the look in her eyes. Was it disgust? Or pity? Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t love.
‘I wonder when did she stop loving me? Was it after Minnie was born or even before? God knows how long she’d been faking it, biding her time, waiting for a chance to be rid of me’.
‘Bitch, bitch, bitch’. He wanted to scream in her face, but the words were trapped in his mind. He didn’t say anything when she bent to kiss him goodbye. Her lips were dry and the kiss lifeless and…. down there, under the collar, was it a hickey?

Ella wished he were dead. Dead as in not being a pain in the ass anymore, dead as in she being allowed to move on with her life. Dead as in not being forced to come to the hospital every bloody week and play the concerned wife. She hated talking to the nurse, with that annoying habit of taking her hand and squeeze it between her own fat sweaty palms, holding her close while she talked of bedsores and bowel movements.
Like she was supposed to care what happened to that dummy lingering on a hospital bed for two years. Sometimes she wished she could ship him to some home, far away, where she wouldn’t have to visit him every week and remember how much she hated him. But, no, what mother would deprive her children of a chance to see their ailing father? She’d heard Minnie pray for her Daddy one night and there was nothing she could say. They could have been divorced by now and she’d be free, but no, fate had to play one more nasty trick on her. Now she was stuck, no way she could divorce a man suffering from such a terrible illness, trapped in his body, What about her, trapped in a marriage with a dirty swine who’d chase every skirt he could… while he could still chase anything. ‘Hah, I guess the joke’s on you, Johnny’.
She wondered if he could still hear, the doctors said it’s been known to happen. She had nice story for him.
‘Guess who I ran into the other day? Rosie, you remember her, the receptionist that used to work in Dr.Craig’s office. We had a nice little chat and she came clean about everything. She even apologized for the suffering she might have caused me, but I told her not to worry, I had stopped suffering for you affairs long before she entered the picture. Oh, speaking of pictures - I almost forgot, she showed me some pictures of her little girl, Lisa. She’s 18 months now and she looks just like Minnie! Thought you might like to know!’

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, today's prompt was: trapped! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!

Image:Pixabay