The Blame Game

It was late. Maybe, 1 AM when Sandy Swenson’s boss informed her she could leave. Her shift had technically ended at 10 PM, but the late night bartender did not show up and she was made to stay. Sandy stood quietly watching beautiful young women be hit on by young gorgeous men. Sandy didn’t mind. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. She was at peace in her dreams. 1

She had given up all hope of having any children. She was now in her late thirties and no guy had ever given her a second glance but Keith. And Keith was long gone. When he found out that her ovaries simply didn’t produce fertilized eggs, he left. He divorced her and never called for her again. 2

As she walked on the wet asphalt to her car, Sandy was tackled. Before she knew it, she was on the ground groaning as she heard the sound of a jean zipper unzipping. She tried to push the creep off when she realized she was potentially being raped. She bared her teeth, but almost smiled. She had had no physical contact of the sort since Keith left her. Maybe, she had attracted this guy. 3

But this wasn’t what Sandy wanted. She screamed when he began to rip her pants off. His breath smelled of cheap beer and cigarettes. No one stopped to help her. It was a common thing in this town, and they all knew it. Tears stained her face as she screamed for no one. 4

Later that night as she sat at the Police Station she said it. “I was raped.” It was obviously desperate, but for once, she actually felt kind of special. Maybe, it was creepy, but she kept this quirky thought respectively to herself. A police officer motioned for her to sit down. 5

Sandy wasn’t afraid like some girls might be. She almost wanted the attention. She was sore and tired, but she thought it kind of flattering. Her thoughts were shattered when the obese old police man informed her, “Those rapists will pick just about anything with a vagina that looks helpless.” 6

In that second, like so many seconds before in her life, the little excitement she had left. She sighed. Getting excited about rape was a little desperate even at her age and placement in life. She quickly, embarrassed walked back to her car. 7

The small rusted blue car sauntered slowly up to the old house. Sandy opened the door slowly and stopped. She stared at the chipped paint on the front walls of the house. Her glazed over eyes were painting a fresh coat over the chips and imagining a family standing in the front window. Her old sneakers stepped onto the crisp wet grass. Sandy didn’t see the old house as her home. It was another family’s sanctuary in a long ago life time. 8

Sandy slammed the door on the Geo Metro and walked up to the cracked sidewalk. As she stared at her feet, the sidewalk mended to a perfect brand new block of cement. The night that surrounded her lit up before her eyes as she saw the sun come up at 5 AM. Her eyes were closed as she imagined birds chirping nearby and the nostalgic sound of a far off ice cream truck. 9

Shattered glass flew back into the windows at the front. The smell of landfill and sewage was replaced by wildflowers and freshly cut grass. Sandy’s thick glasses dissolved into her eyes. Her big bushy hair was thinned and became a tidier and longer blonde hair. All of the blemishes and acne scars on her face vanished at the snap of a finger. Sandy was beautiful. 10

She pushed her old key into the lock on the moldy front door, and opened it. Her eyes registered tacky furniture and a smell of mildew. As she closed her eyes, the house transformed into a beautiful luxurious living space. Sandy was truly happy in her day dreams. 11

Was this real life her fault? Should she have expected this to be her life as she made all of the choices she had when she was in her twenties? Sandy turned the TV on in the living room. The picture crackled as she paced the room. 12

She walked into the bathroom and stared into the eyes of the other Sandy. The ugly, wrinkly old Sandy she hated. Sandy began to cry. Nothing was left. In the heat of the moment, she pulled her fist back and punched the center of her reflection and watched as the mirror shattered all over her bathroom floor. 13

She half expected a secret room behind the mirror or a doorway to her idea of a perfect life, but was only met by a piece of paper. It was a letter. She opened it slowly, and read it. 14

Dear Mom, 15

I’m sorry that I’m only doing this for an assignment for class, but I realized I should be telling you this more often. I love you. I really want you to know that. I remember the nights you’d stay up when I was little and sick and watch cartoons with me in the living room. I’m so sorry Dad left you. I don’t think he had any right to say those things to you. 16

I’m going off to college soon, but I just want you to know: I love this house. Please, don’t sell it. I have too many memories here. 17

I Love You, 18

Sam 19

Sandy smiled at the letter. “We don’t always get what we want, Sam.” Sandy tried to remember the woman she bought the old house from. Was she just a big a wreck as Sandy? Was Sandy just continuing her life of secret wishes in that terrible old house. Nothing good had ever happened to her in that stupid house, but every time she left all she wanted was to be back. 20

Sandy began to regret everything. She folded the letter and shoved it in her pocket quickly. She ran into the kitchen, and she flipped all of the propane on full blast on her oven. She grabbed a book of matches and walked to her front door. She found a long candle sitting on a shelf. She lit it, and backed out. The television set flickered through the window as she drove away. She was half way across town before she heard the boom of the explosion of the house.
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