True Love

She was a dark-haired girl and beautiful, and he was a dark-haired man and handsome, although neither of them would have described themselves as such. The boys had always tried to impress her, and he was a shy man with little experience with girls, and they were perfect for each other.

They’d been married in the early summer on the most beautiful day you could imagine. As they stood on the stone steps with the preacher in between them, they looked in each other’s eyes and could see nothing but happiness, nothing but bliss. Nothing could have convinced them that anything would ever go wrong in their lives, because they were so in love, so happy, that bad thoughts couldn’t even come close to the front of their minds.

They’d bought a small house six months before they were married, and they made love in the bedroom the night of their wedding. They were so in love, and so happy. There was nothing in the world that could spoil it.
His father died a few weeks after the wedding, and though he was sad, he was glad that he had her, and he forgot about his father quicker than he would have otherwise. They left on their honeymoon a few weeks more after, and nothing could have been better.
She became pregnant the year afterwards. Their son was a miracle. He didn’t cry much, and he was well behaved, but something was wrong. She couldn’t make herself happy to see him. All she could think about was death and dying, and the lack of sleep that comes with parenthood began to wear on her. He could tell that she wasn’t doing well, but he had to work, or they would all starve, and he felt helpless watching her suffer.

One day when he woke up for work, she was particularly dreary. The baby was in his bassinet, crying for food, and she sat at the table, staring into space.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She said nothing and continued to stare into space.

“He’s hungry,” he said. “I have to go to work.”

She said nothing still.

“Josephine!” he yelled. She looked up.

“Yes?” she asked. It was as if she didn’t know he was there the whole time.

“What are you daydreaming about?” he said.

“I was just thinking about the well.” she said.

“What about the well?”

“I was just thinking about how dark it is at the bottom, and peaceful.”

He stared at her, perplexed. “Why are you thinking about the well, dear?”

She said nothing.

“Josephine?”

She looked up at him, tears running down her face. “Wouldn’t it be nice if everything were just as dark and peaceful as the bottom of the well?”

He stared, speechless. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something so dark. It wasn’t even close. Just last night she’d said how nice things would be if she didn’t have to think anymore. She was no longer the same woman he married. She was an empty shell. He kissed her in a routine manner, kissed his son, and left for work. Her words echoed in his head, over, and over, and over. He’d heard it so much lately....she wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same. His son was a miracle, but nothing was the same between he and her. It was raining outside this morning.

The car accelerated. There was a curve ahead, with a tree just at the elbow of the curve. He slowly applied pressure to the pedal, and the car accelerated more. There was nothing more to his life. It had been the same thing for months. The same, dreary, depressing antics, and they would never end. The tree looked so inviting. The tears welled in his eyes. His foot pressed harder on the pedal.