String Bridge by Jessica Bell Read Free Book Online Page A

In a heavy struggle the glass somehow goes flying across the room and smashes against the wall.
    “Oh for Christ’s sake, Tessa, why can’t you just do as you’re told ?” I scream. It’s so loud, cavernous and irate that my head vibrates and face stings. Tessa’s bottom lip trembles as she involuntarily sucks in a tear mid-sob from her top lip.
    “What did you do that for?” Alex sneers. “Melody, what’s wrong with you?”
    My first thought is to give Tessa a big cuddle and apologize. I’m angry at Alex, not Tessa. But I can’t seem to move from the kitchen bench which I’m clutching behind my back in fear of breaking down into a blubbering mess. I’m dizzy and brimming with a rage that is still yet to escape since childhood. From all those years of keeping the peace around my mother. I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to let it loose. I have twenty years of pent up anger, and nothing to let it out on. I release my grip and look at my hands. They’re red, dry and dented. Much like my heart.
    “Nothing,” I sigh with my eyes closed. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Tessa, honey, go put your pajamas on and brush your teeth.” I smile at her apologetically. She doesn’t move, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I bought you some of that purple sparkly toothpaste you wanted. I left it on your pillow.” Tessa wipes her eyes in an instant and exclaims, “Cool!” and runs to her bedroom repeating it over and over.
    Putting the chopped basil into the pot, I ask Alex to help Tessa get ready for bed, trying to ignore, or at least draw attention away from my outburst. He doesn’t answer.
    “At least help her with her pajamas,” I say, looking into the simmering sauce. “She always puts the zoo ones on inside out, for some odd reason.” But just as I feel calm teasing the edges of my psyche, the nag in me rears its grievous head and pushes calm aside. “It’s already Tessa’s bedtime,” I snap. “And she’s up late because of you anyway. This could’ve all been avoided if you’d picked her up from preschool like I asked. I told you I had a busy day ahead of me, and all I asked from you was one day. Just one day to pick Tessa up from preschool. Just. ONE. Day. But no. You were so hung up about our conversation this morning that you just had to leave everything up to me again. Out of spite. Right?” I throw the wooden spoon into the pot and a bit of sauce splashes onto my hand. It burns. Stings. But not as much as my impatience with Alex. All he does is stare . Arms folded in the doorway. Corner of his mouth hooked up in “he couldn’t give a shit-ness.”
    “Can’t you do any thing around here? I’m practically doing everything in my sleep. I’m. Tired,” I hiss.
    “I’m sorry, Mel, but you deserved it,” Alex replies in a complacent tone.
    “I what? How many times have you done things to hurt me? Huh? How many?”
    “Should I have made a list?”
    “That’s not my point. My point is that I still sweep all your crap under the carpet and get on with things like a responsible adult. But what do you do? You play stupid manipulating games like a pubescent teenager. How dare you make me climb eight flights of stairs today with all those groceries. If I had done that to you I would never have heard the end of it.”
    “Sweep under the carpet? What’s that mean?” Alex scoffs.
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Alex.”
    Alex snickers, then huffs “fuck you,” and turns to exit the kitchen. But an unexpected wave of physical strength stimulates me like a shot of adrenaline and I hook my arm through Alex’s and swing him around to face me.
    “Why do you always swear at me? You always say that you won’t do that anymore and the next day you do it again. No matter how many conversations we have about anything , they make absolutely no difference. What’s the bloody point? What’s your fucking problem?” I growl under my breath in the hope that Tessa won’t be able to hear.
    “You’re