Memories

“Why do you keep doing this?” his hands tightened against her throat. “Why can’t we just have a good time? Why do you have to be so stubborn?” The smell of alcohol oozing from him, he seemed to sway from side to side but his hands didn’t budge. His brown eyes, which she had stared into for years and had grown to love the way they gazed at her so adoringly and made her feel safe, were blank. She failed to see traces of the man she fell in love with; this person hated her very existence.

Nene wheezed and tried prying his hands away to no avail. “Stop. Please.”

Like a veil had been lifted, he pulled away suddenly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He cradled his face in his palms. “I just want to see my daughter, is that too much to ask?”

Nene scrambled to her feet, making her way towards the kitchen ignoring the shards of glass from the broken cup he had flung at her earlier, digging into the soles of her feet. She had barely made it to the kitchen when he grabbed her arm so tightly she was certain it would leave a mark.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled, pulling her towards him. Nene pushed against his chest with all the strength she could muster but was thrown backward; she felt her head bang against the jagged edge of the table they were close to.

Moments later, Nene opened her eyes, her husband’s cold ones stared back at her, a fake smile plastered on his face. “What happened?” she asked feeling the soft mattress beneath her.

“You slipped and hit your head. I don’t know where you were running off to in such a hurry.” He caressed her cheek slowly with the back of his hand. “How do you feel?”

Nene didn’t respond to this, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his weak attempt to manipulate her. She tried to get up but was stopped. “John, I’m fine. I just need water.”

“I’ll get it for you.” He rose to his feet. “You should rest a bit.”

She looked at her feet, noticing the pieces of glass stuck to them were gone and they were clean. At least he wasn’t asking about their daughter. She watched him return with a glass of water.

John watched her all evening closely like a hawk. When it got late, his movements slowed and he got into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nene felt him take a slow deep breath, inhaling her scent like an asthmatic needing his inhaler. She stayed still and waited till he had fallen asleep then wriggled out of his embrace. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest, her sweaty palms were a confirmation of how nervous she felt; it had been years since she experienced this.

She retrieved a syringe; an insurance given by an old friend and the last out of two, from a small box amongst her shoes on the top shelf in the walk-in closet. The box was shielded by a brown carton containing her old worksheets, ornaments, and a name tag which used to be in her research lab. ‘Dr. Nene John’ was written in smooth cursive, a lost fragment of her old life and ways. She had to be quick before John relapsed again and killed her for sure this time.

The sound of shuffling feet broke her out of her reverie. John was definitely awake. “Nene, is Ada back home yet?” More shuffling followed by the crashing of objects to the floor. “Nene? Where are you?”

She heard him leave the room, she made her way back to the bed swiftly hiding the syringe under her pillow as John barged in rubbing his temples. “I remember, I remember”

“You need to calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stop lying to me, Nene. It’s all your fault.” In a flash, he had pounced on her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her furiously.

Nene reached underneath the pillow and stuck the syringe in his neck. She watched him claw at his chest as he groaned loudly.

“You killed her! I’ll never forgive you!”

“You will.” A tear rolled down her cheek .“I’m sorry.” Seconds later, John dropped loosely on the bed into a deep sleep.

Days passed and Nene had gotten the old version of John she preferred: the one when they had just fallen in love and were starting their lives together. Back with her, happy, in love, and with no memories of her affair with her colleague and their grave mistake that ended in Ada’s death or even the memory of Ada herself. She sighed thankfully as she watched him pour them a drink at the counter.

“After all this time, it still works.”