Beneath The Surface

I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, clenching my hands so tightly that my fingernails made indentions in my palms—I was surprised they weren’t bleeding at this point. My mind would not stop racing with suicidal thoughts. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw a flash of my pistol that I carried in my purse. My thoughts never indicated that I used it, only that it was waiting for me. Afraid that I might act on my thoughts, I took it out and put it in the safe, hidden from view and out of reach of the children. If I don’t get help soon, I might do something I can’t take back, I thought, or I might drive my Kia Sorento off a bridge.

I was desperate at this point. I was scared to death but couldn’t tell anyone, not even my husband. I hadn’t fallen asleep when I heard my alarm go off at 5:00 a.m. I quickly reached over and turned the alarm off. I’d been planning a trip for this Thursday morning, October 13, for a while now, about two months to be exact. It was my fortieth birthday. The big four-oh. I had been dreading its approaching, yet I knew that there was no way to stop it. The only other option was death—which, in all honesty, might be sooner than later if I didn’t get help soon. I made my family promise not to celebrate my birthday. I wanted to pretend it was just another day and that my fortieth never happened. Plus, the idea of being the center of attention in a crowd of twenty or more people made me literally sick to my stomach. I’d always been a people person throughout my entire life, but not anymore. I locked myself in my tiny bathroom and sat for hours. That may sound strange, but it was the only place I could escape. If my family thought I was using the bathroom, they were more likely to leave me alone.

As I went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, I saw our local newspaper, the Everlene Daily, felt as if it should publish an article about a dam being built an hour away from here. Now, why on earth would it matter to the residents of Everlene Alabama?

After reading this[A1][A2], I wondered if there wasn’t something else they could have shared on the front page of our paper. I didn’t need this extra stress right now. I couldn’t bear the thought of any part of Old Man’s Bluff at least fifteen feet under the water. According to the map, illustrated directly above the article, the bluff definitely would be covered. The article explained how the residents around the new reservoir would be able to fish, kayak, or drive small-engine boats on the lake. They banned swimming, of course. Who would want to drink water that humans swim and urinate in? It went on to show projected dates of when this and that would be completed. My heart felt as if it had stopped completely.

My shaking hands attempted to fold the newspaper again, as if it had not been disturbed, and set it back down on the kitchen table. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The first stage of the excavation was planned to begin in three weeks. I am thankful that none of my family lives around there, and they don’t have to worry about losing their land. The thought of never seeing the bluff again was the driving force. I had to go there—I just had to—and no one would stop me.

I had to leave early so that I would not wake anyone. No one knew about it, and I wanted to keep it that way. It’d been twenty-five or thirty years since I’d set foot at Old Man’s Bluff—that was the name my friends and I gave it twenty-five years ago. We knew it belonged to some old man, but we didn’t give it much thought. The old man never came around, so we acted like it was our own. In fact, for me, it felt more like a home. There was a time when I spent more time there than at my actual home.

This was not my typical behavior; I would never go anywhere without telling Mel. I had no choice this time. There was no way he would let me go. He would talk me out of it and tell me how irrational it sounded. So, I put on my favorite pair of worn and faded blue jeans and my old Aerosmith T-shirt, slipped on my tennis shoes, and then tiptoed quietly to the back door. Thank goodness he’d sprayed it with WD-40 last week.[A3] He snores so loudly anyway that he probably wouldn’t wake up, even if a freight train was crashing into our house.

I started the car and backed out of our driveway. Once I was out of our subdivision, I turned to the right and headed straight into town. My town of Everlene had a of population thirty-five thousand—too many, if you ask me.

I’d been here with Melvin, my high school sweetheart, ever since we got married and moved away from our hometown. We both grew up in the same small town. He was the star quarterback of the football team, and I was the homecoming queen. I lived the fairy tale of every little girl on a daily basis back then. My crown was no longer important to me. I couldn’t locate it, even if I tried. The sparkle and shine were long gone and have been for some time.

If I waited until it was convenient, that day would never arrive. [A4][A5]I hoped I could sneak there in the dark and park out of sight. Of course, I didn’t need Google Maps to locate my destination; I could have driven there with my eyes closed.

[A1]This is confusing. Above, the narrator says, I felt as if it should run an article about a dam being built … This seems to suggest there should have been article but there wasn’t. Here, the narrator has read “this.” Please consider revising to clarify the scene.

[A2]The Daily Everlene ran an article. " I" was an error

[A3]You might delete this sentence; it’s a cliché. Readers will understand that the door was quiet because you said he’d sprayed it with WD-40 last week.

[A4]She’s already done this:

I started the car and backed out of our driveway. Once I was out of our subdivision, I turned to the right and headed straight into town.

[A5]deleted