Nicole

Knock, Knock.

I gesture my assistant to enter. She enters very shyly, lifting up a flyer. Its been a few weeks since my assistant, Mindy begged me to join her at a 3-day seminar at TCU. Remembering correctly, I have declined her offer, which feels more like a demand, to join her as she has begged a hundred times.

"Look, Mindy. I already told you I can't." I take the papers on my desk to reorganize them. 

"Aww, come on," Mindy pleads.

"No."

"You used to be more fun. Ever since you got married, it's all been, 'I'm married. My husband needs me at home, I need to go home, Bleh bleh bleh'," Mindy whines.

Because, before my marriage, I was happy living a lie. "Then Maybe, you should get married," I jokingly suggest.  I wouldn't really ever suggest that to anyone in a serious matter. I don't wish anyone to marry unless they want to. 

"Very funny. I'm not as amazing as you are. Nicole Garza, a Microbiologist working for CDC, married to the one and only handsome, lawyer, WHO in fact, owns a prestigious law firm" Her voice goes higher and loud. I get up and shove her toward the door. "Owner of multiple companies!" I close the door after she's out.

Marriage. As a little girl, I couldn't wait to meet my prince charming and get married, but now I realize that all those Disney movies are just simply- fairy tales. 

I lean against the door and let out a huge sigh.

Marriage.

***

Once out of work, I decided to walk home. The weather is nice, people are going about their day. Breathing in the polluted air of New York, my eyes land on a couple sharing an ice-cream cone. The girl smashes a bit of ice cream on the boy's face, and they both giggle. They look like they are in their early 20s.  I look away. Looking at them will only bring bitter memories I do not want to remember. I walk toward times square.

As always, times square is full of people rushing, walking, and running all over the place. I continue to walk while glancing at the stores' windows as I pass by. Window shopping used to irritate me so much since I couldn't afford anything from the stores, I felt like I shouldn't bother craving something I would never buy. I continue to walk when I past R x R Jewelers; I stop right in front of its window displaying engagement rings. There was a time when I longed to afford every little thing from expensive clothes to a luxurious car, but now I regret my wish. I had the most expensive engagement ring any woman would want, but it had cost me my happiness. I look at my hand, there are my rings. They are magnificent, desirable, and wanted. Like my husband. 

Arriving at what I now call home, I scan the house. This home is lovely, every luxury can be found here, but there is no personal connection. I start to clean, dusting everywhere. It was decided that a maid would only come every now so my husband and I could have privacy. More like for the maid not to poke her nose and see something she shouldn't. So on the days she doesn't come over, I clean only what is visible. My whole life was dedicated to my education, causing me to sacrifice the people who were important. 

No one is ever really home until I call it a day or my husband comes back from work. This house is grand, beautiful, and satisfying, but even with all that, it's not really home. At least it's not my home. Worn out with the cleaning, I sit on the couch to close my eyes for a while. 

Ding Dong.

I furrow my eyebrow, trying to ignore the doorbell. My husband has a key, it's not like him to ring the doorbell. 

Ding Dong.

It keeps ringing and I can't ignore it anymore. I slowly sit up rubbing my eyes. I glance at a nearby clock. Who rings the doorbell at midnight? Looking out the window, I realize I dozed off. It's dark already, I must have been tired. As a scientist, I've gotten used to sleeping late and waking up early, but I still hate being woken up from a comfortable nap. I check the screen next to the door. There's a blond man, with my husband leaning on him. I open the door.

"John?" My husband is barely conscious on the blond man's shoulder.  "What happened?" I look at the man for an answer. He looks at me from head to toe, smirking. Men like him are why I detest revealing clothing. And women who wear it for men can never have my respect. I glare at him. It's not the first time a man has looked at me with such lustful eyes. Men don't appreciate women for their brains, they only care about what they can lay their eyes on. It's detestable.

The blond man comes back to, "Sorry, this is my fault. I made John drink too much."

He's about to enter the house when I stop him. I've never met this man in my life, and I am not stupid enough to let him in. John cares about image, even if he's never home, we have rules and expectations of each other. From day one, we agreed that we would watch each other's backs. If this man was important, John would have introduced me. 

"You can leave. I'll help my husband," I place his arm around my neck.

"Don't you think he's a bit heavy for a little lady like you," The blond man teases.

I detest men labeling me as weak. I move John inside before the blond man can grab his other arm to support him. Physically a woman is not strong as a man, but I am not a cripple. "I am capable of taking care of my husband, thank you," I close the door making sure to lock it.

Helping John move toward the living room to set him down. A smell of alcohol escapes John's breath. "John, how much did you drink?" I look at John, as I lay him on the couch.

From what I know John knows how to act, almost never drinks, and never cusses, because he cares about his image. He's predictable, reliable, and trustworthy, I wonder what caused him to drink that much. He gets very close leaning next to my cheek, "It's empty."

"Empty?" I try to advert his attention to reality, "What's empty?"

He moans, "It's empty here, Nic."

He doesn't point to where or what he means, instead, he whines as if I didn't understand him and I should have.  "I want to sleep for a while, you know. Sleep and forget about everything." He kisses my cheek and hugging me tightly.

I stop him, hold his face in my hands, "Did something happen John?"

With tired eyes, he looks at my face as if he was seeing it for the first time. "I missed you," He leans in inches from my face. I grab a pillow hitting him with it. He hugs me, with the pillow in between. Even as husband and wife, we haven't spent a night together as a couple, we barely have decent conversations. Because we are not lovers, we are strangers.

"I'm tired, Nic," He passes out.