Too Late For A Change of Heart

Author: Patrick George

Chapter 1

Frankie stepped out of the house, slamming the door behind him in an uncharacteristically defiant manner. And it was with a deliberate swagger that he walked across the yard towards the gate, his little old, blue shoulder bag hanging loosely from his shoulder like a knowing and willing accomplice to his intended mission. His air of bravado was so uncharacteristic that it evoked a loud burst of snide laughter from his wife who stood at the window hands akimbo eyeing his progress across the dusty lawn; the laughter of one in control. He had expected it, a dagger of contempt aimed at his retreating back. It was the kind of laugh that spurred domestic violence. The kind of laugh that would have made some men turn back… but he was not that kind of man, not anymore. There was a time when he would have gone back into the house and… He tossed the thought aside. Frankie had told her the night before, after an argument that he was leaving the next day, for good. He knew that she hadn’t believed him; after all, where would he go, he was in a foreign land and didn’t even have a job. Little did she know. He knew that she would be eyeing his little bag and thinking:

“Who is he fooling; he wouldn’t be leaving for good without clothes, and his stupid, precious books and little collectibles. He isn’t even wearing his jewelry. He is just bluffing!”

But she was wrong, he was gone.

“See ya later alligator; not in a while crocodile,” He sang to himself, chuckling at his little improvisation of the popular vintage song.

Their fight the night before had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. He’d decided there and then that he’d had enough. The constant fighting, the insults and blatant disrespect and her nonchalant and superior attitude towards him were too much. He had no say in matters of the home or family. His every suggestion was ignored. It was as if she had been waiting for years to humiliate him; some kind of perverse retribution. Frankie often wondered if all women secretly longed for the opportunity to have men in a position of dependence so as to treat them badly. Payback for the subordination they were forced into by society’s unfair customs.

Dawn was the worst time of day for him, a nightmarish experience. He woke up every morning feeling like he was just a step away from going crazy, at times even contemplating suicide, his thoughts all mixed up and oppressive, a raging storm of hopelessness. It usually took him a good hour or more before he could shake the depression and be able to get out of bed. Funny how things change, he often wondered. Gone were the nights when one was eager to get into bed because there was something there, and just as eager to get out in the mornings because there was something waiting – a life, things to do, dreams to pursue. These days he went to bed to nothing and got up to nothing; a big blank at both ends, not even a glimpse of silver lining behind the dark clouds.

At the gate he raised his head and let his gaze travel towards the living room windows even though he knew she would no longer be there; he was not that important. He was right. He pretended to be closing the gate, but looked sideways quickly towards the house next door. He saw a window blind being dropped back into place by an observer. Unfortunately, the observer was a woman who was not built for speedy movement, and so was unable to hide herself before being seen.

“You fat pig!” He thought, “Always minding other people’s business. This is the last time you’re minding mine.” She waved at him half heartedly, looking very much like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.