Just Once

FICTION

by Orlane Dubreus

It was 1:37. Alissa would be home from school in about an hour. And her parents were currently not speaking to one another. 

The aftermath of a fight was always the worst. Justine would sit and think about all the things she could have said or done better, all while knowing Lionel wasn’t giving her a second thought. He always won. Whoever got to walk away unscathed won. And that was Lionel every time. He got to brush it under the rug. He got to go about his day as if nothing had happened.  

Not Justine. 

Justine needed to feel every emotion that coursed through her. The hurt that came from the venom spewed from his lips and the anger that arose whenever he invalidated the words that came from hers. She becomes engulfed in these feelings, letting them take over her day. One fight can give her a bad mood that lasts for hours. And he leaves the conversation as if he’s walking on air. 

She would like to believe that he’s just better at hiding his emotions than she is, but she knows in her gut that it’s more than that. There was something dark about Lionel, simmering just below the surface of that charming smile. It was what attracted her to him in the first place; the idea that this ethereal man could possibly bring a bit of danger into her life. He promised her the life that she had always dreamed of—to be taken care of, given a beautiful home, children, vacations—all with that glint in his eye. It was exciting at the time, to know that she was with someone who viewed himself as powerful. It was only recently that she started to question the danger she initially found so intriguing. 

This same confidence that allowed him to seduce her, also seemed to make him invincible to any issue she brings up. If he’s not paying enough attention to her, it’s simply because he works too much and needs time to himself. When she brings up that he only gives her attention when it’s convenient for him, he claims that she doesn’t actually want to be with him. It was the same fight over and over again. But he always walked away believing he was right and Justine always stayed knowing she was. 

And now, sitting at the kitchen island, Justine stewed. She wanted to be more than just sad; she was tired of being the one to shoulder the pain in this relationship. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Why did he get to be the one to walk away? She tackled their issues head on, yet never got an answer. She was always the one being left behind, forced to hear the clicking of the television as her husband left to watch whatever game was on. So why did she feel like she was the one backing down? She fights with him all the time. Has she ever fought for what she wanted? 

1:45. Her eyes shot to the bottles of liquor in its glass cabinet. They had first bought it when they got the house. To fit the aesthetic, Lionel had said at the time and she had laughed when he said it. She laughed because she knew they hadn’t had to worry about the price of a measly liquor cabinet when her husband had already bought this big, beautiful house. Money didn’t mean a thing to her. They had been so excited to start life together, to begin a chapter that acknowledged them as a single unit. Two people joined as one. 

Now when Justine looked at this cabinet, all she could think about was the smug look in her husband’s eyes every time he bought them grand items. This house, their cars, the tuition for the private school Alissa currently went to; all of these things came at the hand of Lionel Malcolm. It suddenly made her sick. 

Realizing how much she depended on him for everything had been keeping her up at night lately. All of the material items she once admired now felt like stand-ins for her position as a wife. Those things seemed to garner more attention from her husband than she did. 

She moved to grab the key from its hiding place in the pantry and unlocked the cabinet, taking the bottle of Don Julio from the top shelf. She didn’t even really like tequila, but this was Lionel’s favorite and the symbolism of the act was what mattered. She twisted off the cap and was about to lift the bottle to her lips, then hesitated. 

What was this going to prove? What was she hoping to accomplish? 

The desperation for her husband to notice her was becoming obvious and she wasn’t sure how well she could handle it. Yes, she needed liquid courage, but the idea of drinking straight from a bottle of liquor made her heart pound. She was reminded of her parents, of the way they would swing those bottles around as if they were plastic cups at a high school party. Drinking too much had always been a fear of hers and she refused to allow this man she had married to be the catalyst. 

She set the bottle on the table and settled on looking for a shot glass, feeling assured in having a measured amount. She was aimless in her search, opening and shutting the cabinet doors as she looked for where he kept said glasses. As she was doing this, she heard the volume on the TV turn up and she knew it was due to the clattering in the kitchen. She smiled to herself; it was small but it was something. She wasn’t sure yet what she was trying to prove, but for some reason this felt like a small victory. An acknowledgement of her presence in this house. 

She poured the tequila into the shot glass and downed it without a second thought. It burned as it went down her throat, but she relished the feeling. Normally she would reach for a lime or a chaser, but she was carrying that fire into battle with her. 

1:51. They had time. 

She left the bottle opened and the shot glass on the table and marched into the living room. Noticing how Lionel’s eyes didn’t even drift from the TV when she entered, she remembered a time when he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her when she entered a room. The thought made her sad for a moment before she took in the room they were currently in. 

The large space once had made her proud to have a husband with such expensive tastes, but now it just made her uncomfortable and indecisive on where to place herself. They knew they only wanted one kid, why did they need a living room this big? Why did they need a house this big? More and more of these questions had presented themselves to her over the past few months, when she started to doubt whether she made the right choices in life. But for now, she wasn’t going to agonize over logic. This was her moment to not back down. 

She was going to make herself be seen. Just this once.