Monochrome Read Online Free PDF

handful of moments she needed a drink. She stared at the glass in front of her, and almost jumped off her stool. Her whiskey was quaking in tiny ripples.
    The liquid shifted and became a glassy mirror. She peered into the liquid mirror, leaning in to make out the images forming a wavy picture. The amber liquid changed a deep black color with every ripple, the color of Ishmael’s eyes. Her hands shook on the counter as the images became clearer. This is not happening , she thought as a picture of her husband came together before her. No, not a picture. A memory.
    Her husband was walking slowly through the living room. She bent closer to her glass and distinctly heard the sound of her baby crying. Abigail got as close to her glass as possible and watched the scene in disbelief. Her husband was walking towards the sound of her baby, a disturbed fear in his crescent moon eyes.
    Abigail’s heart ached to see it. She desperately wanted to know the cause of his grief. Then, the scene switched point of view. She was now her husband, seeing the scene, first hand. Abigail’s heart fell. She remembered this moment.
    Through Jason’s eyes, she saw herself sitting hunched forward, staring blankly out of the large double window in their sun room, eyes distant and glazed. Anger burned through her, quickly replaced by a gaping sadness, so intense it felt empty . She realized, with a shudder, she was feeling what Jason felt that day.
    She/Jason looked down at Abigail’s feet and saw Ruby lying on her play mat, screaming to be picked up. When he saw Ruby, his feelings shifted. His body tingled with an overwhelming fear and a love so passionate it sent shivers over his skin. Abigail wanted to jump from his body, pick her up, hold her close, and protect her from….from herself.
    Jason picked Ruby up, though, and, before leaving the room with her, stared at the hunched Quasimodo who was his wife, gazing out of the window dumbly. She wished to leave him and this awful memory before she felt the mixture of revulsion, pity and anger coursing through his system. But she felt it and understood it.
    What is wrong with her? Jason thought as he held Ruby close to his warmth. He smelled the powdery sweet tang of her babyness, and couldn’t fathom her perfection. Her screaming stopped, and she beamed, wet hazel eyes glowing. Her tiny fist pumped erratically and slapped weakly against his wet cheek. He didn’t know why he was crying.
    A hot tear ran down Abigail’s face and dropped into the whiskey. Experiencing Ruby as her husband did made her see just how ugly her own experience of her baby was. Her own emotions were as hollow as an unused mason jar and just as fragile. The scene in the liquid vanished in the ripples from her tears, but it replayed itself in her head. She felt Jason’s revulsion for her and his aching tenderness for Ruby. His tears burned her cheeks, or were they her own?
    “He doesn’t love me.” She meant to think, but whispered the awful revelation.
    Ishmael, who, at some point during the scene, returned to his seat next to her, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
    “I….” She didn’t want to speak the agonizing truth.
    “Who doesn’t love you?” he inquired.
    Abigail shook her head, and was surprised to feel more tears splatter her cheeks. She hadn’t cried in so long. Her emptiness had been too consuming. Her husband’s steely disdain for her was tearing her apart.
    “Jason. He doesn’t love me,” she spit out. She picked up the whiskey in front of her and downed the two shots in one go. It slid down her throat like liquid silk. She motioned to Jim for another. He poured another and started to take the bottle away.
    She grabbed the bottle and placed it in front of her.
    He shrugged. “It’ll cost ya, lady.”
    She nodded and downed the shot. The whiskey was strong, much stronger than anything she drank back home. It suffocated her doubts in numb, fuzzy warmth. But it couldn’t make her