Someday

Paige Bennet sat on the large couch in the living room with a vacant expression on her face. She was a lovely woman with wavy, dark hair and full, pink lips. Her cheeks were flushed from the fire nearby. It was a cold night, nearly Christmas. Snow drifted lazily from the black abyss obscured with bright stars and menacing grey clouds.

Paige stared off into space, paying no heed to the twinkling lights of the dressed up tree in the corner. It looked lovely, but it was, and always would be, nothing more than a tree. It grew out of dirt and dealt with those birds who chose to take advantage of its inability to protest. It was no more than a tree pretending it was something more. Soon it would be dead, but no one would think twice so long as it had fulfilled its purpose.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek as Paige realised she had given everything to her husband. She had forsaken not only her home and her career, but her dreams to the man she loved. Indignation washed over her as she searched for something he had sacrificed. Coming up empty, she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tightly.

Thoughts invaded her mind of Travis watching some topless woman dance while he drank away the money for the electric bill. He wasn't the man she had thought him to be. He drank too much and smoked more than any person should be allowed to have done. He neglected his wife and daughter, preferring to waste his life in front of a TV and his money on a woman who wouldn't have him. All he had for Paige was words. All he ever told her was that he would make up for things.

Someday.

She blinked her eyes as her mind momentarily cleared. It felt like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Someday would never come for her, she realised. He would never change; he would never be the man she had imagined him to be five years ago.

Travis Bennet had never been a man to bring a girl flowers. He had never taken Paige out to dinner and he very seldom said any words of love. Paige could deal with a man who wasn't born romantic. She didn't care for poems or candlelight, but she quickly felt herself being backed against a cold, hard brick wall. He made a bad father and a worse husband. Her heartbeat quickened and Paige jumped when the timer went off, reminding her of the cookies in the oven. Standing, she walked numbly to the kitchen. Was life so surreal for everyone? Did many people go through the motions of life, all the while wishing they would wake to a better existence?

Paige pulled on an oven mitt and opened the oven door. What had happened to Paige Anderson, the strong and independent girl she had been in college? She had been so full of life, so confident in her ability to achieve her goals. She had wanted to be a reporter. It was such a modest goal, really. It wasn't as if she had wanted to cure disease or travel to Mars.

Anger boiled up in her stomach while she threw the sheet of cookies on the stove; red and green sugar crystals skidded onto the hot sheet and melted where they lay. Travis had insisted she give up her career. He had wanted a wife to take care of his home. He wanted a woman who was obedient and docile. She had become that woman without noticing. Paige tore off the oven mitt and threw it at the wall before slamming her palms on the edge of the sink to steady herself. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks and merged with the soapy water in the sink. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

He had manipulated her, moulded her into the woman he had wanted her to be. Why hadn't anyone ever warned her about letting a man change her? Why hadn't she noticed she was becoming a woman she detested? She inhaled sharply and raised her eyes to look at her reflection in the window.

She couldn't let her daughter see her this way. Anabelle would grow up thinking it was all right to let a man dominate her. Perhaps she would even expect it. Paige's heart tore as she thought of her daughter in an unhappy marriage, an abusive relationship. Anabelle would learn everything was fine in a marriage so long as there was no physical abuse. She would think there was nothing wrong with a man treating her like dirt, telling her how to dress, what to eat, what to say...

Paige didn't bother to wipe her tear stained face as she ran to her bedroom. She would rather die than put Anabelle through another day of this life. Full of rage and determination she hadn't felt in years, Paige ripped open the drawers of her dresser and collected her clothes before throwing them into a trash bag. She pulled a box from underneath the bed and held it under one arm and threw the bag over her shoulder in a miserable impression of the father of Christmas. She paused in the hall to pick up a travel bag for the baby before leaving the house, bumping several picture frames and statues to the floor on her way out. They swayed to a stop or else tottered to the floor with a crash muffled by the carpet, but no one was there to listen.

She trudged through two feet of snow in her canvas trainers to the car. She threw the meagre belongings into the trunk of the battered vehicle that had transported her since college. Gritting her teeth to prevent them from chattering against the cold, Paige returned to the house. She wrote a hasty note on the memo pad by the phone. Giving things consideration for the last time, Paige took her infant daughter in her arms and left the silent house.

She had left the house and her husband that night. She had abandoned dirty dishes, laundry and leftovers with her daughter sleeping soundly in the back seat. Everything that had ever meant something was in that car.

Paige Anderson cried quietly as the windshield wipers drove away the large flakes that would ensure a white Christmas. The Bennet house grew cold and dark as the car left the long, dirt driveway for the paved main road. Cookies cooled on the stove as the fire died. Hours later, Travis would return, expecting a hot dinner, only to find a note from his wife.

Someday didn't come soon enough.