Say Goodbye to Sophie: A Short Story about Frustration

    Sophie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, an array of supplies spread before her on the crowded counter top. Even the sink was occupied by small tubs of mineral face makeup, which she had earlier applied to create a smooth complexion and angular contours. She squinted and leaned close to the reflective surface, scrutinizing the dramatic, smoky eye she had just created. For good measure, she added a crescent of cheap, heavily glittered black powder to the outside corner of each eye. She brushed several layers of mascara onto the upper lashes and puckered her lips at herself in satisfaction.

     Next, the slim young woman took a step back from the mirror and admired her body. She wore only matching black lace panties and bra. Her breasts were pushed inwards and up, creating cleavage that would not otherwise be so pronounced. In the depths of this decolletage, Sophie brushed a generous amount of shimmering body powder. After inspecting the effect, she liberally swiped the glittering powder brush along her clavicles and down her arms. She then sprinkled loose body glitter over her shoulders and rubbed it along her lower back. She rummaged through a drawer filled with half-full perfume bottles and settled on a tall, frosted glass container. It contained a sharp, citrus scent that Sophie had been told on several occasions was uniquely suited to her. She spritzed this scent onto her chest, lower back, and neck. On second thought, she added dabs to her thighs, stomach, butt, and shoulder blades-- anywhere that may end up pressed into his 800-thread-count sheets.

    Her long, raven hair still hung loose around her shoulders, and while this was the look Sophie preferred for herself, she knew it would not do, today. She swept the thick, dark strands into a loose pony tail on top of her head and fastened it with a hair tie. Then using tens, hundreds of tiny bobby pins, she secured the long, loose hairs into a perfect princess bun. The short hairs that framed her face were swept back behind her ear and pinned into place. She tilted her head this way and that, ensuring that every angle looked just right. She sucked in her cheeks and placed a makeup brush from the counter between her teeth like a cigarette holder, fake inhaling. She blew imaginary smoke into the mirror, doing her best Holly Golightly impression.

    Glancing at the cell phone she had placed on the back of the toilet, Sophie realized it was nearly time to go. Quickly, she shrugged into a black cocktail dress and stepped into worn, red pumps. She sprayed one last cloud of perfume in front of her and stepped through it while she gathered her things from the bathroom and threw them into a small Coach handbag. Finally, running only a tiny bit late, she strolled out the door, slithered into her beat up old Honda, and began the familiar drive to his uptown condo.

   The sex was the same as always; Sophie spent much of the time with her face pushed into a pillow as he sweated and grunted above her, but ultimately she felt mostly satisfied. Now, they lay naked in bed as he smoked a cigarette and she slowly pulled the bobby pins from her now-ruined bun. She was stacking the pins on the nightstand beside the bed, many slipping into the shadows of the woman's articles that clearly lived there full-time.

    "You really don't need all that makeup," he was saying patronizingly as he watched the hair fall around her smudged face. His penis was draped over his thigh revoltingly, looking as if it would make a mucky noise if you tried to unstick it. Sophie looked away. "You're a really beautiful girl," he went on, craning his head over his shoulder to blow smoke towards the window. "Mira didn't need it when I met her, either. She hardly ever wore it. I like natural beauties, I guess." He turned his back to ash in the coffee mug on his nightstand as Sophie shook her long dark hair out and let it fall down her back.

    "She needs it now though, right?" she asked sardonically.
    "Oh god, yes." he replied. "And tits swinging like you wouldn't believe. At least blondes go gray somewhat gracefully. I can still pretend she's not practically a grandma in the dark." He himself had gathered quite a bit of gray hair on the sides since Sophie had begun seeing him, and his hairline seemed to have receded.
   "You're not so fresh, either," she said, but he ignored her as he lit another cigarette.

   Sophie was now occupied with combing her fingers through her long locks. Strands of near-black came out in her fingers and fell onto the sheets and pillowcase. She watched with mild interest as many fell between the mattress and the headboard. One snagged in the ornate detail carved into the bedpost and fluttered softly in the gentle breeze of the ceiling fan. His phone vibrated jarringly and caused them both to snap to attention. He looked at the screen and sighed as if he had just learned that he was being called into work on a Sunday morning. Placing one finger to his lips, he swiped the screen to answer.

    "Hello? Yes, dear. Home... I told you I was working from home today because Amir is out of the office all week because of San Francisco... Yes I did," he rolled his eyes spectacularly in Sophie's direction, but she was not looking his way. She was watching the way body glitter was falling into the cracks on a patch of mattress that had been exposed during their intercourse as she rubbed his sweat from her chest and shoulder. "I thought you said you wouldn't be home until later tonight?" he snapped into the phone. "Fine, fine. I'll see you soon then. Yes. You too." He hung up and sighed again.

   "Mira is coming home soon."
   "Yes, I figured that much out," Sophie replied as she gave her left arm a final brush and shook her hair, causing it to fall onto her chest. "I guess I better go, then."
   "Yeah, I'm sorry. I thought we'd have more time today. Next time we can go out and do something, your choice."
   Sophie slipped back into her underwear and slid her dress over her head. She steeled herself, turned to him, and asked one last time. "When are you going to leave her?"
   This time he didn't sigh so much as scoff. "I've told you a million times, Soph, it's not that simple. I have to protect my financial interests and my family. It's very complicated when you get marriage involved. If you'd just be patient--"
   "I know, I know. Just asking," she replied as she sat on the bed to slip on the old, red shoes. "Anyway, it was nice to see you. I'll see you around."
   "Listen, as soon as we can, we'll go out and get some drinks and see a show or something. K? Look, don't be mad."
   "I think I'm actually going away for a while, so I'll call you. Don't call me, ok? I'll see ya."

   And with that, Sophie gathered up most of her things and walked out of his life. As she drove home, radio silent, she found herself laughing uncontrollably; She hadn't felt so free in a long, long time.
   
 

 

Three Things I've Learned From Three Years of Marriage

Today marks the three year anniversary of the day I married my wonderful, devoted husband, Tony. I know that three years doesn't exactly make me a marriage expert and that we have a long road ahead of us, but at this point, I feel that I have properly adjusted my mindset to the married life enough to shed some insight on what changes when one takes the plunge. Here are the three biggest, most important things I have learned over the past three beautiful years:

1. You can't keep score.

Balance and fairness are important elements of any successful relationship. If one person is carrying too much of the burden, whether emotional, financial, domestic, etc, resentments can arise. As in any situation where two people live together, there is a lot of responsibility to divvy up in a marriage. A couple owes it to themselves not to allow the stresses of this balance to lower them to a point where they are writing passive aggressive notes to their spouses like some college roommates on a Buzzfeed list.

My husband works three jobs (a 9-5, a high-demand part-time, and an occasional bar job), while I work freelance/part-time/sometimes. I stay home and bear the brunt of the childcare burden, as well as most of the domestic responsibilities. Sometimes I hate doing the dishes (and often Tony volunteers to do them because he's the best), but it wouldn't be fair for me to ask him to do the dishes as often as I do the dishes, just as it wouldn't be reasonable for him to ask me to work the hours he works. It would be nonsensical for me to try to figure out how many loads of laundry equals one drive across the Causeway to tutor a GMAT student. As long as each half of the couple is contributing in earnest and appreciating the contributions of the other, scorekeeping is unnecessary. With all eyes towards a happy, well-provided-for (financially and otherwise) household, balance can be achieved.

2. Unlearn the phrase, "If this doesn't work out..."

We all want to be The Notebook minus Alzheimer's. If you don't want to be The Notebook minus Alzheimer's when you get old, I don't know why you would get married to begin with. To me, marriage means forever, no takesy backsies. That said, we're basically all children of divorce, and we're all well aware that not all (or even most) marriages will be successful. Even so, it is the responsibility of a married person to love and invest in their relationship as if it will never end. Spending time worrying about what happens next if things go south inherently takes away from a marriage. If you don't give all of yourself emotionally and mentally to your relationship, and it goes bad, whose fault might that be?

3. You cannot overestimate your capacity to love.

The first time I fell in love, I had never experienced a feeling so intense before. The day I got married, I didn't think I could possibly love that man any more. The first time I held my child, my heart nearly burst with a kind of love I didn't even know existed (a cliche, but for a reason). The point is, any time you think you have reached love capacity in your life, you are probably wrong. The love I have for my husband grows deeper and more complex as we age and carve out our happy little part of the world together. I don't know how much deeper it goes, but I'm not willing to put an imaginary cap on it, because I believe that love is infinite and evolving, and I can't wait to see what lies ahead.