Short Story: Everything Shatters on the Tile

Shit.

Another ceramic coffee-mug shattered against our kitchen-tile counters. My husband, Armando, shook his bald head from side-to-side as he rushed toward our paper-towel rack.

“I’ll get it, babe. You hurry or you’ll be late to work.” I rubbed his firm shoulders to comfort his distracted mind. December had always been a difficult month for him. The pressure to meet the month’s car-sales quota, as well as the year’s, had become a yearly stressor.

We whispered sweet-nothings and kissed each other until we reached the front door. “I love you, Ellena,” he whispered against my neck before he wished me a productive day. I blew him a kiss before he drove away in his Toyota Camry.

When I returned to our kitchen, my healthy and adorable babies awaited at the kitchen table. They each resembled their father: round noses and plump-lipped smiles. Bouncy ash-brown curls, just like mine, framed each of their faces. They each had my curious, golden-brown eyes. Juliette, my youngest, had just turned one. Her smile widened while she gleefully played with her toddler spoon. Then our two-year old, Fifi, grinned from her chair while my oldest and cherished treasure, Laura, studied a book. She had surpassed her three-year-old learning milestones.

“Are we ready for a fun day?” I clapped with excitement before I freed my baby dolls from their chairs. Unlike some mothers, I enjoyed running errands with my three children, under three. I’d always believed, “It’s all about positive effort.”

The four of us wore matching purple-valor jumpsuits, with white Adidas sneakers. We each had a loose bun placed high on our heads. I know … It must have seemed corny, but I loved to dress my baby dolls all the same.

Our first stop had been the post office, and as usual, all the older visitors complimented my precious treasures. My sweet, well-behaved children: Juliette stayed wrapped around my hip while Fifi and Laura stood by my sides. I quickly bought my stamps and then left the post office with my healthy, cheerful little-ladies. Laura loved to sing the alphabet, and the other girls would always hum along from their seats in the back of my Toyota Sienna.

Since it had been a mild Tuesday in Waxahachie, TX, we stopped at Chik-fil-a for lunch. I should have taken my girls to the park, but Chik-fil-a had always been our one-stop shop: yummy food that my girls would eat and a clean play area.

“Oh, Ellena—they are just the cutest.” Trina’s skin wrinkled into a smile.

Trina and her granddaughter, Tara, had been Chick-fil-a regulars. Tara and Laura played well, so I chatted as much as my youngest would allow me. They could be too darn curious: Juliette giggled as she improved her walking while Fifi beamed with joy as she perfected her running.

By 3:00 PM, my girls had desperately needed naps. In the parking lot, we said our goodbyes to Trina and Tara before I hit the keyless entry to my van. Once we’d all strapped in, Juliette’s long lashes blinked until she fell sound asleep. Right as we drove out of Chik-fil-a’s parking lot, Fifi dozed off while Laura chatted about how fun it had been to play with Tara. I enjoyed our conversations; she had developed such a budding-mind. At that moment, I remembered how thankful I felt to have withdrawn from my position as a receptionist—doing so allowed me to enjoy their childhoods.

Every day had been the same: we’d wake up with Armando, and then we’d have breakfast as a family. Most days, we spent our time running errands and having fun.

“Mommy, I love you.” Laura’s soft, squeaky voice changed from sweet to frightened as an oncoming commercial-truck motorist veered out of his lane and then T-Boned my Sienna into approaching traffic. One car after another crashed and dented my van while my babies screamed and cried for my help. I felt defenseless as shards of glass slashed through my clothes and caused painful-gashes to stain and soak all the fabrics around me. A painful ringing quaked within my head while sirens grew near, just as I drifted into shock.

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When I came to … I fidgeted against a tightly restrained gurney. My first instinct had been to ask for my babies, but no one answered. EMTs continued to poke and probe at me, and my mind became a restless jumble of worries.

“Please, are my babies OK?” I questioned, but I didn’t hear a peep. Tears soaked at my cheeks while I begged for a response from the silent EMT. He spoke to someone as if I hadn’t even been there … as if I had been invisible. I continued to be ignored until we came to a brute stop. In their care, they manhandled me, like a ragdoll, from the truck and then into Waxahachie’s only hospital, Baylor & White Medical Center.

My heart galloped like a herd of mustangs as they thrust me into a medical room. Latex-covered hands invaded my body while masked strangers continued to ignore my need for answers. I screamed for help, but no one heard me. Swift hands placed a mask over my face before the hustling medical staff became too blurry to see and then I drifted into a sound slumber.

A bright light lit the darkness that engulfed me, just as I quickly jerked away from Armando’s sweet lips. Our surroundings confirmed that I had somehow traveled to our wedding day. In that dream, glimpses of our joyful memories blinked in-and-out of the setting. Memories of how blissful we had once been … panged at my heart. We’d had so much promise and plans for our future. Armando’s car sales had provided enough to fund our life. And shortly after we wed, I realized it had been ideal timing to quit my job because six-months after our wedding day: we discovered that we’d soon have Laura. Then Fifi and Juilette came along shortly after—and our lives became perfect.

“Do you know why she ran her van into traffic?” A stern stranger questioned as my eyes blinked until I realized that I had been confined to a hospital bed.

Armando’s drenched-with-guilt voice whispered, “No.”

“Please, where are my babies?” I questioned, but again no one answered. My throat felt as if I’d drank a shot of acid.

“She—” His dark eyes begged for forgiveness.

The female officer warned Armando, “Please, if it can help us keep her out of jail—then you should tell me. Frankly, her blood-screening will not help her case.”

In the car sales industry, sales reps often stretched the truth to win a sale. However, my husband had a fault for being an honest man; he had been upfront when it came to joining a buyer with the perfect car. That’s why it had become so easy for me to fall for him. My trust in his intentions blossomed my adoration and desire to be with him. When Armando transferred from an out-of-state car dealership to the humble town of Waxahachie, I’d quickly developed a profound infatuation with his cheerful personality. During that time, I’d been the timid local gal who had been lured by his mystic. He’d never been a gym person, and I loved that he loved my round form as much as I loved his. I always trusted all of my secrets with him, but on that day … that day he betrayed me.

“She hasn’t taken the fourth miscarriage well.” How could he? How could he tell our secrets to a stranger?

One-truth-after-another, and Armando pealed and picked until my mental-delusions became visible for everyone to scrutinize. One-painful-truth-after-another, and he left me exposed for the world to judge. He contritely spoke of Laura, and shared that she had been a stillborn. His words broke as he spoke of Fifi and Juliette, and how we lost them as third-trimester miscarriages.

How could he? With every secret he shared, he destroyed a piece of my heart … until my hollow chest ached from his betrayal.

“When was the last miscarriage?” Her question had been as soft as the verification from the timid nurse who had confirmed the passing of my fourth child.

“A week ago—” He stopped when he noticed me staring at him; and his gaze quickly dimmed with guilt.

Officer Gallo’s uniform tightened as she marched in my direction while her masculine face clenched as she grew closer. Armando’s navy casual-dress slacks and teal polo-shirt appeared wrinkled next to Officer Gallo’s crisp uniform. I stared holes into my husband while the officer read me my rights.

I cried and struggled against her while she harshly handcuffed me. Armando begged for me to stop, “You’ll only hurt yourself more.” The accident had left me a mute. My voiceless lips shook as she brutally arrested me for the vehicular manslaughter of a family of six.

When she jerked me towards the doorway, Fifi and Juliette appeared dressed in angelic white gowns while they stood next to Laura … her dress sparkled the most. They all smiled at me, and then a bundled baby appeared in Laura’s arms. I jerked and fought to free myself, but my baby dolls vanished as the elevator doors sealed shut.