Echoes of Regret Page #4

• Drama

								


“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” I asked in a feeble attempt to save my job.

“I’m afraid not.”

Year 5


Time goes by. Obstacles linger in our rearview, tethered by stubborn chains we refuse to break. They drag and clatter behind us, a relentless echo of our past, never fully released. 

June stood in the kitchen with a newly rounded belly, two-year-old Heather on her hip, and her phone to her ear. The afternoon light filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the cluttered countertops and the faint aroma of leftover breakfast.

I remember the night she told me about Heather, how happy I felt, how optimistic we both were. The most recent birth announcement was not nearly the occasion Heathers had been. June had told me about the pregnancy through tears and rapid apologies for not being more careful. 

I love Heather and I’ll love our future children, but kids aren’t cheap or easy. I wasn’t angry when I heard she was expecting, I was scared. Not that I’d show that fear to June. I simply hugged her and told her that I was happy. It must’ve been the exact thing she needed to hear because she went from devastated to elated. 

Three months in, we decided to share our news with a couple of Junes friends, Brian, and Aunt Glory, they were all to meet us at a restaurant that evening. I assumed that’s who she was on the phone with. I realized my error quickly. 

“That’s great news! I am looking forward to it.” June hung up the phone and exclaimed to Heather, noticeably not to me.

“Mommy got the job! Isn’t that exciting?” She bounced Heather, making her giggle.

My face contorted in annoyance and confusion. “What job?” I asked from my old ragged beige chair in the front room, the springs creaking under my weight. I tried to keep my voice steady, but anger seeped through.

June went still, pulling Heather close and placing a hand on her stomach. Her timid reaction agitated me. Her weakness felt like a show to make me seem like a villain. She responded in a small voice, “The beauty school offered me a position to teach.”

I closed my eyes tight. “Well, that’s just great, June.” I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. “Who’s going to watch Heather? Do they know you’re knocked up again?”

June set Heather down with her dolls and turned on the kids’ music channel, a cheerful tune filling the room. She walked over to join me, her steps cautious, as if approaching a wild animal.

“Glory offered to watch Heather, and yes, they know. It’s not the 1940s; mothers can work now.” She answered reasonably, adding with hesitance, “And your new job doesn’t pay what the old one did. I think we could use the extra income.”

I felt a heat rising in my chest. I clenched my fists, the old chair groaning as I shifted. “And why don’t I have that job anymore?” The accusation of not being a good enough provider appalled me. “Because I had to cater to you, maybe? Because you couldn’t handle the most natural job in the world? That beauty school has no idea the mistake they’ve made in hiring you.” I scoffed before leaving the room.

June followed me back into the kitchen. “I know it was my fault. I honestly thought you’d be happy I was working again. I can tell them I can’t take the position if you think that’s best.” Her voice was meek and exuded a fragility that I found unattractive. I missed the June I once knew, confident and bright.

I waved her offer away with my hand in the air, “No, we could use the money, it’s fine.”

June gently held my left arm, “Okay. I love you, Warren.” She popped up on her toes and kissed my whiskered cheek.

I took my right hand, pulled her head towards me and kissed her forehead. “I know, we will get through this.” I told her, but I doubt either one of us believed me.

I walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, the cold bottle in my hand had a calming effect. 

“Warren?” June's voice was sticky sweet, which usually meant she was about to annoy me. 

“Yea?”

“Are you sure you want to start so early?” She asked gently, 

“Jesus Christ.” I huffed and place the bottle back in the fridge. “Fine, I’ll wait till tonight.” I responded as I slammed the door shut.

The buzz of conversation and the clinking of dishes filled the air in the cozy, family-style restaurant. I sat at the head of the long, wooden table, feigning a cheerful demeanor. June, ever the optimist, beamed beside me, her eyes sparkling as she chatted with Aunt Glory. Bree and Sara, her friends who never really took a liking to me, whispered to each other, their glances often darting in my direction. Brian, my oldest friend, sat across from me, his smile tight and knowing. I took a deep breath, preparing to deliver my well-rehearsed announcement. 

“Everyone,” I began, squeezing June’s hand under the table. “We have some exciting news. I looked at my wife and smiled, lovingly. June and I are expecting our second child.” The table erupted in applause and cheers, June’s happiness radiating. 

I should have been happy about another child, shouldn’t I? Everyone expected me to be. But the future loomed over me. When I’d think about the future a stabbing pain would form in the back of my head, and acids churned in my gut. I did want June to be happy, at least one of us could be happy. 

“Congratulations Bud!” Brian walked up behind me, slapping me on the back. 

I flashed a wide smile, “Thank you, brother. It means a lot.”  I showed my gratitude and we shared a hug. 

Brian leans in, barely above a whisper, “So things are better at home?” 

I kept a smile on my face. “As good as can be expected.” I couldn’t lie to Brian, but he didn’t want to hear the truth. 

Brian nodded, replying. “Well that’s a relief.” 

Over to my left I saw June having a hushed conversation with Bree and Sarah. I just knew that they were talking about me, their side glances at me, gave them away. I put my hand under the table and set it softly on June's knee, giving it a soft squeeze. June seemingly by instinct placed her small warm hands on top of mine, she turned to flash me a wide sweet smile. I caught the look on Bree’s face, like she was smelling moldy cheese. I moved closer to June and kissed her temple, Bree rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t help but smirk, knowing exactly what she thought of me.

June’s friends always seemed to find ways to undermine me, their glances full of judgment. They always made her seem like a victim and painted me as a villain. Even though no one really understood what it was like to live with her, what a mess she really was, or how naive she could be. Her and Heather’s clothes everywhere, dirty dishes greeting me when I come home from a long day. They don’t know she forgets to mail the check for our light bill or that she volunteers me to help out our family and neighbors on my day off adding more to my already full plate. When all I needed was rest. 

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