Love Online

Only her daughters filled the holes that Phil escaped through and she found it safe to live on the other side of the wall riddled with cracks. Occasionally, she'd look out through the openings, as she does when looking out her living room window while hiding behind her draperies or disappearing behind her veiled curtain wearing her mask of contentment, if only to avoid the confrontation and the conflict. Just as she focused on her frustration, she realized her husband's inability to cope by numbing himself with alcohol while hoping to sooth his bleak reality with the excitement of football. It was obvious to her now that they were a co-dependent couple staying together out of habit, financial necessity, and for the children's sake, but not for love.

They could be happier, but it wasn't so bad. They had the kids and this beautiful house, after all, in this safe, pretty neighborhood. Things could be worse. She should have a problem. In hale and relax, she told herself. Decompress from the stress of every day life. Meditate and be happy.

Her constant denial that "things could be worse" and "it wasn't so bad" numbed her into settling for status quo. Not ever having a rapport of give and take, yin and yang, hot and cold, their relationship never tested the extremes, explored the outer boundaries, and traveled the deepest depths or the highest peaks of love. Instead, it slowly ebbed into a rutted, deep ditch of silent suffering and complacent co-existence.

What happened to the giddy happiness they experienced when they found one another and fell in love? Where did that couple go? They've realized all their dreams with marriage, children, and their very own beautiful house, but why are they both so unhappy?

Too weak to save themselves; an artery of their relationship severed long ago and they were slowly but fatally bleeding to death. The temporary bandage that saved them from dying was the children and the house. Indebted and unhappy living their dream of owning a big house in suburbia, they languished somewhere under their rainbow always able to see it, but never able to grasp it and pull themselves up on top of it. They didn't know how to dig their way out. Instead of making their way to the top, not expecting any better, they grew accustomed to living at the bottom and watching the rainbow from afar.

"We don't expect more than a dusting," said the weatherman. She turned off the television and looked out at the snow that had already dusted several inches of deep, white, fluffy stuff.

"Fools!"

Already hurt from his lack of interest, she hoped that Phil remembered it was Valentine's Day. Just as she thought that, she felt pathetic that she clutched to the one day of the year that was commercially earmarked for love when every day should be held in high reverence of that.

Generally, he gives her a card and candy in the morning before leaving for work. Instead of a box of candy, she wished he'd take her out to a movie and/or to dinner. Maybe, he forgot and will remember during the day that this is their special day, a celebration of love and remembrance of times past before children, mortgage payments, and credit card debt. This is their day to unite as a couple and to reinforce the reasons why they are together still. Maybe tonight he has a special surprise planned. Maybe tonight he will give her the romantic evening of her dreams. She was excited with the thoughts of Phil whisking her off for dinner reservations some place fancy.

Only, she had a special meal planned for tonight, his favorite. If he had planned a surprise on taking her out, she could always save what she cooked tonight for leftovers tomorrow. He called her a few minutes before he was scheduled to arrive home to tell her that he was going out with the guys and not to wait up for him. They were having a big Valentine's Day party at the strip club for a co-worker who was leaving the company.

As she talked to him on the phone, no longer listening to his excuses for not being there for her again, she watched Gayle and Glenn climb aboard the Lexus for their Valentine's dinner at that new swanky restaurant that Gayle so enjoyed telling her about. She had her hair done and was wearing her new sparkly dress that glittered with so many colors of the rainbow beneath her mink coat. They looked nice. They looked happy. They looked in love.

It was just her and the girls again eating another supper alone without him. He didn't wish her a Happy Valentine's Day. He didn't say that he loved her. "I love you. Happy Valentine's Day," she said to the reverberating echo of the dial tone.

"Insensitive jerk," she said slamming down the telephone receiver.

She looked at the pile of gifts she bought him with the Valentine's Day card crowning the top that hid a sexy message inside for a special romantic evening tonight. She suddenly remembered that she needed new batteries for her vibrator. She was horny. She was alone. She was frustrated. She ripped the Valentine's Day card in pieces and threw it in the trash.

She looked down at her pregnant belly that she had hoped held his son, Brady Grady, and felt fat. Now, she hoped for a girl. She felt hungry and the food that she did not want and did not need, and that her husband drove her to eat, and that drove him to the strip club to pass out more dollar bills than he could not afford to give, would never fill the emptiness that just transpired between them.

She felt hurt. She felt sad. She felt rejected. With the girls in bed, she turned away from Desperate Housewives reruns for the comfort of some erotic conversation online.

As soon as she logged onto her site, she was greeted by the one she had hoped was there.

"Hello, Mistyblue."

"Hi, Tonytiger."

"Happy Valentine's Day." Suddenly, the image of a bouquet of white roses appeared across her screen. He remembered.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, too." She was blushing and couldn't type her message to her mysterious cyber friend fast enough.