Photo Challenge Prompt: Fiction – Wishing You’d Stayed


Thanks to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie for hosting this photo prompt.


Man Against Blue
Ronnie Garcia Moron

 It takes a great deal of pushing and a lot of poking to make me angry, but Yasmine knew which buttons to push. The neighbors never heard us fight, until that night in August.

“You always want to be together; I can’t be with you all the time. I’ve work and sometimes I need alone time, and occasionally, guy time.” I yelled.

Yasmine flicked back her long brown hair and laughed at my rage; she was far away inside her head again; I could tell.

“Look who’s upset,” she said softly. “It took me a long time to make you this angry, Logan. I thought you would never notice me. You’re always leaving me home alone.”

“Yasmine, I’m extremely upset at you, scared for your mental well being, and scared for our relationship. But you think my words are a joke.” I say.

She laughs and slids her arm around my shoulders. I shrug it off. Yasmine crosses her arms and says:”Calm down Logan. Stop being such an ass. Your married, you don’t get space anymore.”

“Being married doesn’t mean no space.You never used to be this way Yasmine. You did stuff with your friends and visited relatives. You also worked as a successful interior designer.” I told her.

“Now, you stay home all day and you lay in bed. I’m trying and I know you’re not well. But one of us has to work and support us financially. You need to look for ways to occupy your time. Read, write, watch TV, walk, or pretend you’re designing a new interior space.”

Yasmine gave a thin smile at my suggestions. “I suppose you want me to keep visiting the psychiatrist, the doctor who says I’m suffering from depression because I lost our baby.” Tears leaked out of Yasmine’s deep brown eyes. I wiped them away.

“I think it’s best for you Yasmine. The psychiatrist makes sense. You’re sad, tearful, and you can barely make it out of bed. You’re also anxious and you’ve terrible self-esteem right now. When I tell you you’re wonderful, talented, and beautiful, you don’t believe me. Yesterday, you said you believed you were a baby killer.” I said.

Yasmine smirked.”Before the baby died, I believed you. Now, I don’t believe you’re telling me the truth. I’m in awful shape and I think you’re placating me. I believe you’d rather by anywhere else and not with me.”

“Listen,” I told Yasmine. ” When I said I need space, all I meant was I need some time each week, where I can tye up loose ends from work. I also need a night away from you every week or two. For my own mental health, I need a few hours where I can forget and not deal with our issues.” 

“I talked to your friends Becca and Lynn,” I told her. “They said they’d love to take turns hanging out with you one night a week if you’re okay with that? You guys could go see a movie or go shopping, something along those lines?” 

Yasmine buried herself beneath the comforter on the couch.”I don’t want to see my friends, look at me? And I need you here Logan; I was thinking, we could have another baby?” 

“It’s not that I don’t want another baby with you sweet heart, ” I say carefully. “I keep telling you, it’s not your fault Jacob died. It happens to many woman with their first pregnancy. It’s just right now, you’re still recovering from losing Jacob.” I told Yasmine.

She covered her ears, “I don’t want to hear it Logan. Stop talking. It’s my fault Jacob died; I didn’t take care of myself. Now, I’m sick and I feel I can’t do anything. Everything makes me tired and I’m so mad at myself.”

I sat down beside Yasmine and rubbed her back.” Relax. We have time. Work on feeling better. Try to take a short walk, even around the block. Be in the sun on the patio to get more vitamin D and sleep whenever you need. However, you have to promise to take your pill.” I said.

“I don’t want to! I hate my med. It makes me feel foggy.” Yasmine complained.

“The doctor says in a month or so, when you’re used to the medication, the fogginess will go away. But you have to let your body get used to the anti-depressant. I notice when you take them, you’re much happier. You get out of bed. You make conversation. You sketch out designs for rooms,” I tell her.

“But Logan . . .”

“Please, for two-weeks, try taking your pill. If you don’t, the Doctor says you’ll have to go back in hospital, Yasmine, ” I begged.

Suddenly, Yasmine flew into a rage. She pushed at me and screamed. She grabbed her car keys before I could catch her and snuck in the elevator. When I reached her parking space, it was empty. I’ve never seen Yasmine again.


Yasmine’s my wife and it hurts me to know she could be anywhere and I can’t help her. I don’t know if she’s well or still suffering from depression. No one’s been able to find her, not even a private detective.

I grieved for Yasmine. It took me two-years before I started writing my stories down in journals. I thought, when Yasmine came back, she could read about what happened in my life after she left. I tried to make my journal entertaining for her to read.

Then, they found her body. Parts of me ached which I never knew existed, when I learned Yasmine was dead. I’m not sure how they can find out how she died now. But I’ve convinced myself I caused her to commit suicide.

I tear the pages out of my journals; I had had them bound and printed into volumes for Yasmine to read. Now I know she will never be able to read what I wrote. 

Broken and grieving, I destroyed all my journal volumes. All the typed pages scattered across the floor in my office. Broken journals, like my heart. 

How does one heal after hurting so long, believing their other half, couldn’t be dead? 


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Poem: ” Wishful Thinking.”


Some celebrate the season with their loved —

Ones, Some celebrate with their dogs and cats.

Others seek solace in a church and they pray and they —

Sing, of a child born Christmas Day and they,

Remember that child died on a cross when–

He became a man and preached to the poor.

He healed the blind and the lame and he even,

Let Pharisees accuse Him of crimes he never,

Committed because he knew there was more,

Meaning in his death; as there was such joy,

At his birth. Where wisemen followed a star,

And Angels sang his glory, while his Young,

Mother Mary, treasured everything in,

Her heart and rejoiced that her baby would,

Save the human race and defeat death and,

The devil, so that we can all go to heaven.

And be free and eternal, finally perfect,

And praise God for that little baby forever. 

But some don’t know that story, some only– 

Know they have nothing to eat and that they,

Are spiritually weak because they can’t think,

Much beyond each day because they cannot,

See the light in the tunnel, they are suffering.

And thinking to far in advance would make,

Their eyes tear up with sorrows and they can’t,

Be weak if they are to survive the pain.

Some people are alone having lost their loved,

Ones, or they are living far away while,

Their family lives somewhere else and I hurt,

For the people who can’t celebrate with–

Utmost Joy, the birth of a Saviour and have,

The blessing of their family to support them. 

It is Christmas time and as much as we,

Are all together, some people are close,

To falling apart because they cannot,

Be happy at Christmas, they have lost their,

Holiday cheer because bad things happen,

At Christmas too and it’s hard to be full–

Of joy, when you are hurting more then is,

Obvious to other people even;

Though you wish you could be a person,

With only thoughts of laughter and cheer.
Music Video: HallelujahJeff Buckley

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved

Poem: “Fog.”


Today, everything feels as if it were impossible. I try to make my body move, but I’m pulled back by lethargy.

I am trying to actively participate, to be aware. But my eyes are heavy and my body feels like heavy led. I know I should be present; but I don’t feel here.

As a thick fog comes whispering, it enfolds my mind and when I try to think, I close my eyes; trying to answer correctly but it feels as if I can’t remember and the effort it takes is too much.

I could go to bed right now and sleep away my time like yesterday. But I don’t want to spend my days in bed. I want to do things with my time. I need to accomplish something today.

But now it’s close to night and the light outside grows dim so early. The wish to sleep comes stronger. The wish to be present goes farther away.

And I’m sad when I have to cancel plans as I do because life is how it is. Somedays I am completely in the zone. Other days, I have nothing to give and life keeps taking. 

I like to have plans. There are things I would have liked to do today. But I stayed home and recovered from two-hours of lunch yesterday. I don’t know why it wore me out.

But fog is coming in on paws so quietly, It’s hard to do much today. It’s hard to visit and talk without being agitated. I don’t know why I have days like today. But I know there’s better days ahead. 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.