Flippant Flamingo #5

In memory

Her eyes were swollen and his fist was red. You looked from one to the other, but didn’t want to say anything. After all, you were just the bank teller behind the glass.

Her cheek was bruised and his face was scratched. You noticed both, but didn’t ask about it. You’re just the police officer called to deal with the fender-bender.

Her nose was broken and his arm was bruised. You couldn’t ask, because company policy states that you “never get involved.”

Her eyes were shouting for help and his burned with hatred. You looked down to count their change into his hand.

Her frame got thinner and thinner, while his continued to grow. You told her she needs to take better care of him, make him happy, because your religion says the marriage always comes first.

Her belly got larger, and his shouting calmed. You were the product of his hate, but she loved you all the more for your innocence.

Her screams of pain drowned out his insistent questions. You give her the painkillers, and coax her through delivery, because he won’t come near her.

Her breasts are sore from breastfeeding; while he approaches the crib with a look of tenderness you imagine he gives her every morning, you're just the nurse watching over their baby.

Her scars aren’t healing correctly and his smile gets bigger every day. You ask her about them, because it’s your job, but accept the excuse she gives you.

Her stomach contracts in pain and his eyes are only for the baby. You don’t see her run outside to throw up because you’ve learned to ignore “that couple next door.”

Her face is serene with perfect makeup and his eyes have a tinge of red. You hear him whisper in the baby’s ear “I love you, and your mother never did.”

You finally speak up.