Story: A Change of Mind

“Did you read about the accident on Lincoln Way? It’s on page 4.”
Marge never understood why Danny didn’t take the newspaper to work and read it during the day.

“I don’t read about tragedy.” As soon as the word came out, Marge knew she shouldn’t have said it.

“A tragedy! Are you kidding me. You should read it to see if anyone you know got hurt.”

“I watch the news on tv.”

“Yeah. That’s so much nicer. Video of mangled cars and people.”

“Do you want pork chops or hamburgers?”

“Hamburgers!” This is shouted by all three kids from the next room. Someone is screaming on the tv.

“Your father will decide.” Groans follow their mother’s announcement. Marge feels like a rope is tied to her from every person in the house. Every move, no matter how careful, how slight, gets a reaction.

“Which one do you want?” Marge is waiting for Danny to decide. She knows the routine by heart. First he’ll be silent for a long time, then he’ll ask what else can he have. Their oldest child, a daughter who knows everything at 16, told her mom it was her fault that Dad was so spoiled.

“We’re having hamburgers.” For the first time, Marge makes the decision and purposely ignores Danny as she gathers the onions, and ground chuck to fix for dinner. She catches herself. She was going to ask Danny if he wanted a salad.

“Hey, wait a second. I haven’t made up my mind.” Danny’s voice is flat and he sits very still.

Marge can feel the imaginary ropes tighten around her, making her moves jerky and it’s hard to breathe. Danny only hit her a couple of times. Four different times to be exact, but that was 12 years ago. He said he’d never do it again.

Marge helped him keep his promise. From that time on, she made herself neutral and agreeable, and she kept her opinions to herself.

Marge looks at Danny. Danny’s eyes look darker. She feels this is somehow familiar, like the buttons on his shirt, the creak of his chair and the fear in her chest. Even the smell of olive oil beginning to smoke on the stove is perfectly familiar.

“Well, whatever your going to cook, you better get it in the pan!” The newspaper hides Danny’s expression.

Marge moves the frying pan off the burner, and methodically begins chopping the onion to mix into the meat. Was she careful for nothing? Was she afraid of something she created in her mind? This thought is worse than believing Danny could be dangerous.

Could she do what she wanted? Could she feel free, or as her daughter would put it, was she emancipated?

Marge passes the salad to Danny.

“Tastes great!”

He always says that. Now that Marge thinks about it, she can pretty much predict what he’d say. The food has no taste. She looks around the table at her daughter, her twin boys and her husband. The only person she doesn’t recognize is herself.