Charlotte's Suicide (pgs. 95-97)

I barely heard the door open; I had become so engrossed in the letter writing--my final goodbyes, of course, warranted this focus--that I barely heard him enter. He stood in the doorway, that putrid, despicable man, calling after me as if I was the light of his European life, really and truly, and I could not bare to hear in that joyous sounding note any hint of genuineness. It was all over. I couldn't bare to live with him, not anymore, knowing the lies that guided this life.

"Charlotte, dear..." His second call was crucifying. I hadn't wanted to, but with this second intrusion I turned and shot him the dirtiest look I could muster, seeing through him; there was nothing to see there, not even the shell of a man. He would never realize the pain he'd caused. There was no way to change things. I rifled off in agony. 

"The Haze woman, the big bitch, the old cat, the obnoxious mamma, the--the old stupid Haze is no longer your dupe." Not your worthless puppet anymore. "She has--she has..." I felt the tears rolling down my face and quivered in defeat.

He sputtered and flubbered at me. "What--dearest--what are you speaking about? Charlotte, darling, I--there is--"

"You're a monster. You're a detestable, abominable, criminal fraud." I couldn't get the burning lust of his for that little bitch out of my mind--it incurred painful images, indescribable. "If you come near--I'll scream out the window. Get back!"

"Darling, honestly, whatever you may be thinking right now--rest your nerves and look me in the eyes. There will be time for--"

"I am leaving tonight. This is all yours. Only you'll never, never see that miserable brat again. Get out of this room."

This seemed to wound him, but healed me none. I thought hard through the clouds of hysteria if there was anything I had failed to take care of before leaving this home behind. The letters had been written to family, friends, politely explaining the sudden move--it was for the best, of course, to be nearer to Dolores's camp in case of any emergency matters--and I had written a letter to the folks at the camp explaining this, as well, and I had begun packing, and I would not stop one second more to look at that painful oaf. I heard his feet ascending the stairs. Oh, and our vacation! Our little getaway to the Enchanted Hunters. I had made it in such excitement--excitement since defiled and destroyed. I found the number of the hotel and dialed it so rapidly I nearly missed the last number. It had to be done--everything, erased.

After I had been on the phone, avoiding any confrontation with the people at the hotel--I did not want to reveal any suffering at the cancellation--I could not help but get up and pace the parlor. What would I do, what could I do? There was nothing for me here anymore. In fact, there was nothing for me anywhere. That little stain, that sniveling daughter of mine had ruined everything. First, Henry was taken from me, and now what replaced his love was tainted and worn down beyond any recognition of its first sparks. I packed my bags in blind resignation but, in reality, I wanted absolutely no close proximity with Lo ever again. I didn't see any way I could live with her or look her in the face and not think about that disgusting eastern brute upstairs, now descending... I could hear him in the kitchen and sat down at my desk again. I felt light-headed--I needed to breathe. 

After a short time which was lost in hysteric clouds, I could feel his eyes behind me. They were boring into my skin, and I felt ugly. I felt nothing but filth at the knowledge of his gaze. I felt like shit--like death--like nothing at all. Emptiness could not describe. My hand moved without conscious thought, drilling lines into the paper and into the desk.

He babbled something, some poor excuse, into the air of the parlor, but my ears could not receive it. My mind was made up and there was little to do now but follow the guide of instinct. 

His presence was gone again. It would be gone forever soon, and I could sleep. No more Humbert, no more Dolores. No more lies. No more book club, no more pretension. No more anything. Nothing but sleep. Final and grateful sleep. 

Things sounded in the kitchen again, but they were far off and echoed as if the earth itself creaked in a cavern somewhere. I stood up and let my feet walk me to the front door. The road buzzed and whirred and called my name through the screen. Gently and without hesitation, I felt my hands guiding the door forward and my legs carrying me down the steps. The blacktop of the road felt faint.

No more, no more, no more. Something came towards me, so I breathed.