A happy day

The day she decided to change her life was a Tuesday. She woke up with this stale taste in her mouth. During breakfast she watched him reading his newspaper and scratching his crotch.
“Joanne, I‘m sorry, but I‘ll probably stay longer in the office tonight. We‘ve to prepare this very important presentation.”
She stared at his hairy beer belly.
She knew that he was only meeting his lover. She was not stupid. He had been having this affair for the last twelve years. Exactly since the weekend, when they were still in college, and she went to Spain with all her girlfriends. She still agreed to marry him, just to see the other woman suffer. She liked this feeling of superiority. She knew that he just couldn‘t get divorced, at least not as long as his über-religious mother was alive.
That morning she tied his green and pink striped tie very fast, until his short neck started to get red spots.
“Bye, darling.”
“Goodbye, my love.”
He gave her a short kiss on the cheek, and she was disgusted by his scratchy stubble. Then he was gone. She wandered through the apartment, staring at the ugly wallpaper which was full of purple orchids and yellow lilies. Finally, she found herself in front of the bath-mirror. She needed to get ready for work. She took her giant make-up bag out of the wooden cupboard. With sure instinct and routine she turned the average woman with the crumpled and reddened face into a sexy lady. Already on the way out she turned and blew her mirror image a kiss from her devil red lips.
In her little BMW she even started humming. She stopped, she smelled him. Her beloved little car smelled like him. She hated that cheap aftershave stench. She stepped on the brakes, the car squealed, then she turned it and raced home. There, she threw all her clothes and shoes out of the wardrobe, and packed her most favourite ones into her tiny black Chanel suitcase. She strangled his old teddy bear with a collection of his worst ties, all ones she had given him for several occasions. After that she poured all his different aftershaves and perfumes onto the fluffy carpet in the living room. She then gave his favourite cactuses a hotter look by shaving them very smoothly. Before she finally left the apartment, she scribbled a little memo:
“Bye, darling! Don‘t forget to water the flowers and feed the cat!”
She signed with a perfect lip print. Whistling she climbed her car, and went to the airport. In the entrance hall she studied all the different flight directions. She closed her eyes and remembered that she had always wanted to go to New Zealand. She never could before because he was afraid of flying. Actually, he had always been a giant scaredy-cat, who had even got cold feet when she had suggested to fly to the continent for their honeymoon. She withdrew his golden Visa-card from her reindeer-leather purse and approached the ticket desk. Within six minutes she had booked the flight, actually a four stage journey because all the good connections were booked out. Eventually, she leaned back in her window seat in the airplane, and watched her city becoming smaller and smaller. Then it was gone, and she ordered food, and champagne to drink to herself. At her first stopover in Amsterdam, she checked her mobile, but nobody had called or texted her so far. She imagined him coming home in the middle of the night, finding out that she had left. His big crooked nose would contract, and after seeing his teddy bear and his plants, he would freak out for the first time of his life. It would be a wonderful sight. She did a bit of shopping in the duty free shops, she loved Chanel, and she loved his credit card.
Then she climbed the little airplane that would bring her to her next stop, Moscow. On the long flight she ordered more and more champagne. This certainly was the happiest day of her life. She would call her best friend by the time she finally arrived in Auckland. In her state of very high spirits and a good amount of tipsiness she imagined the neighbourhood gossiping about him and her. He wouldn‘t bear that, he would move away, probably back to his mother. Maybe to his lover, but he wouldn‘t be brave enough to stand by that woman. She grinned, and grinned, and her mouth chuckled, and squealed, and opened wider and wider. And became distorted, and screaked, and finally screamed when she realized that the plane was crashing down into one of the giant, ancient Russian woods.

© JG

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