Breathing Room

With every breath her husband took, Gloria Grace found herself suffocating a little more.

"Needs a little more salt."

"I haven't handed you the plate yet, Travis." Her jaw was sore from constantly speaking through clenched teeth.

Gloria Grace closed her eyes, praying that when she opened them, her reality would have evaporated.

"Needs more salt." Travis said it again, same monotone voice, same disregard.

She glanced at the plate, then right back at him, silently giving him one more chance to take the plate she was offering.

He nudged it back in her direction.

Needs more salt. The words kept ringing in her mind. For days now, she had been teetering on the edge, and his request was that last nudge over the cliff.

The sound of the plate crashing into the trash bin soothed her. Slamming the top of the bin shut was music to her ears.

"Grace, what about my breakfast? You just wasted a whole plate of food for no reason!"

Gloria Grace began humming a jazz tune while she wiped down the counters. Theolonius Monk. She'd once told her mother that jazz to her was what she assumed angels sounded like when they spoke. Whenever things were rough, jazz was always there to soothe her soul.

This morning, Monk was going to get her through. Melodies drowning out the sounds of her husband's contrariness and complaints. Harmonies silencing the regrets she was having about staying in this marriage way past the expiration date.

He should have eaten the damn food.

The bacon was perfectly crispy and the grits were creamy with just the right amount of butter and salt and pepper. She'd been up an hour before him and eaten in peace while she cooked. Savored every bite and appreciated the fact that she'd splurged a bit on getting three different kinds of coffee creamer so she had choices in the morning. A woman deserved choices and options. Some days she wanted caramel, other days called for mocha, and then there were days that butter pecan was necessary. Travis rarely drank coffee and when he did, he filled it with way too much white sugar for her taste. But to each his own. Making coffee was such a personal ritual.

She hummed another tune by Monk as she grabbed her car keys and walked right out of the house, smiling as she slammed the door shut on his complaining. Grabbing the mail from the mailbox, she waved at her neighbor, Mrs. Williams.

"Gorgeous, sunny day isn't it, Gloria Grace?"

"It is, Mrs. Williams. Your roses are looking quite beautiful this morning."

"Thank you, my dear. I've made some rose water. Make sure to stop by and get some from me. Keep that skin looking youthful. It's my secret."

"I will definitely take you up on that offer, Mrs. Williams."

Gloria Grace lived across the street from the elder woman for over ten years. Mrs. Williams was an energetic little thing. Wore her nails brightly painted and her silver gray hair perfectly tucked in a french roll. Always a bright smile and a welcoming wave with a warm spirit.

Gloria Grace threw the mail in the car and hopped in. She was still humming as her husband ran toward the car and banged on the driver's side window.

"What am I supposed to eat this morning, Grace? Seriously, you can't leave without making my breakfast!"

She couldn't stop thinking about how she would have to clean his fingerprints off of the window. Gloria Grace rolled the window down slightly. "Fix yourself something with more salt in it, Travis. There's plenty in there."