A to Z April Blogging Challenge
T is for Tears
Carrie had cried all night as she tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep was far away. Carrie felt as if she might never sleep again. “How many tears can one woman shed?” she thought to herself. She felt like she had cried her whole life.
She had never felt loved by her parents. Her father was never around and when he was, he ignored Carrie. Her mother never missed a chance to tell Carrie what a disappointment she was. She often called Carrie fat and ugly. With her mother, it was always, “Why can’t you be more like …?” “Why can’t you sit straighter?” “Why don’t you walk like …?” “Why don’t you talk like …?” over and over. Therefore, Carrie felt that she was fat, ugly, and couldn’t do anything right.
She had gotten pregnant and married the first guy that looked at her twice. He was an alcoholic and Carrie soon found out what that meant. Then she had caught him cheating on her. It broke her heart and her delusions of a happy life. “What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she do anything right?” she asked herself.
All the old feelings of being fat and ugly came back to her. She became very depressed and began the cycle of prescription drugs and alcohol. She wanted to just end it, but she had a daughter that needed her. She would not subject her seven-year-old daughter to being raised by her mother, the critic.
Her daughter was everything Carrie was not. She was beautiful and thin. Carrie had raised her to have good self-esteem; to love herself and do her best at everything. She was dainty and graceful, not a big, tall, fat, and ugly slob like her mother.
Carrie had begun to notice all the phone calls she was getting from men since her separation and divorce. They were mostly older, married men just looking for a piece. That disgusted Carrie and made her feel worse. She had learned, during her marriage, that men thought with their little heads, rather than their big heads, and they would poke anything to get their relief. She stayed away from them. She would not allow herself to be belittled any more than she already was.
Soon, Carrie noticed younger men, around her own age, were calling her, visiting her, and asking her out for dates. That’s how she met Evan. He was actually a friend of her date, who introduced them. One look at the tall, blonde haired, big blue eyes, that was Evan, and Carrie felt herself falling. They began dating and the more she found out about Evan, the deeper she fell. She felt he was her soul mate.
The first time Evan kissed her, Carrie could not get enough; touching him, feeling him, she wanted to crawl inside him. Evidently, Evan felt the same, he seemed to never get enough of her. Soon they were married with a child of their own on the way.
Everything was great, at first, and then Carrie started to notice changes in Evan. He was a truck driver and Carrie knew he often took amphetamines and would drive for days without sleep. Then, he admitted to her that he was using cocaine, but his addiction was starting to cost more than they could afford. Carrie begged him to get help, but he was worried they would take away his license and he would lose his job.
Evan told Carrie when he changed to meth because it was cheaper. Carrie worried about his health and his getting caught. Then, one night, the call came. Evan told her he had been caught and they took his license. Evan said he wasn’t coming back home because he didn’t want them, Carrie and her two daughters, involved. He said he would call her when he got a chance. Carrie cried the rest of the night. Her heart broken tears rolled down her cheeks.
Carrie knew she was going to have to get a better paying job. She received child support from her first husband, but it didn’t cover the cost of cheerleading and other activities their thirteen-year-old daughter was involved in. It didn’t cover the cost of her clothes, either. She had to purchase all her daughter’s clothing at a certain store, anywhere else was considered ‘generic’. Then, there was the daughter she and Evan had together. A daughter that had just turned three-years-old.
With help from friends and family, she got the job she wanted. It was closer to home and paid much better than
Carrie’s old job. It also required long hours and different shifts. Thankfully, her mother had changed a lot over the years, and she never treated her granddaughters like she had treated Carrie. Her mother, bought a home close to Carrie’s so she would be able to help watch the girls while Carrie worked or slept. That seemed to be all Carrie did now, work and sleep, but the money was coming in. That was all that mattered.
Four years after Evan had first called Carrie from jail, he called her again. He said he was out of jail and had been traveling around some, thinking about what he wanted to do with his life. He told her where he was staying and asked if she would come see him? Of course, she went.
As soon as Evan opened the door, she smelled the pot. Evan led her through the trailer to the living room area which contained a couch, and that was it. Then he turned and looked at Carrie. Carrie felt herself melting and as he took her into his arms, she thought, “Umm. He still looks good.”
Just like before, they seemed to not be able to get enough of each other. Evan told her he was selling drugs to get by. He said he tried to get a job, but no one would hire him because of his record and addiction. He did want to see his daughter, but Carrie would have to bring her here, he still didn’t want them involved.
After about three months of this, he told her that he thought they were getting close to catching him and he may have to move around for awhile. Carrie thought it was just his paranoia, but a couple of weeks later he was gone. Gone without a trace, leaving Carrie and their daughter behind.
Carrie ached from loving him so. Didn’t he know she would go with him anywhere? Then the tears came as the true revelation came. She had lost Evan, not to another woman, but to drug addiction.
Twenty years later, she still thought about him, yearned for him, wondered if he was in jail, or if he was dead.
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