Short story “Samson – PART 1/3”

“I pushed open the door slowly allowing a stream of light to enter into a room of which was otherwise submersed into darkness. The time was nearing ten and, to say the least, it was unusual that Samson was not yet out of bed. Even after fifty years of marriage I could count the amount of times that he had slept in past eight on one hand. There are only four times that I can recollect of Samson wasting a morning in bed.

The first time was the morning after our wedding. The day had gone tremendously wrong, as do all weddings I presume. My soon to be mother-in-law had come down with a bug so severe that she had been made bedbound and she was supposed to be doing the catering. She had promised to lay on a beautiful spread, and I am sure she would have had she not been sick, but unfortunately she didn’t tell us until the morning of our wedding that she wasn’t going to be able to lay on any food. The cow never liked me, she was always making sly remarks about how her precious Samson was too good to be marrying someone like me. “Pamela” she would say “How are you going to be a good wife if you cannot even look after yourself!” She used to prod and poke me accusing me of starving myself and trying to drain the life out of my skin. But I shouldn’t blame her for the entire downfall of the day, my jealous cousin Beatrice was responsible for that. Her mother had died during childbirth you see, and her father drank himself to death and so cousin Beatrice was taken in by my parents. They were lovely people like that, even when they couldn’t put enough food on the table for their own children they would still take in another be they in need. My parents treated her well, they treated her the same as they treated any of us but she still turned out rotten. She was just a bad egg I suppose. And as if sharing my parents with her wasn’t enough, she always wanted everything I had – including Samson. The moment of the vowels rolled around and just before Samson could say “I do” she ran into the church, stinking of alcohol and threw herself at Samson. I was utterly embarrassed, although Samson found it hilarious and told me that I was the only woman for him and that I needn’t worry about Beatrice. Naturally he said it loud enough that she would overhear, feel embarrassed and run away somewhere. I haven’t seen her since then. Anyway, Samson took me back to our new home. It was tiny but it didn’t matter because Samson had worked so hard to be able to afford it and that made it feel ever so special. Samson had bought me a cake from the bakery on Old Washington Street and so we shared that and then went about our newly wed activities. The next morning I awoke so spy Samson lying next to me watching me sleep. He was ever so sweet and gentle. Samson had the ability to make me feel like I was the only person in the world and I adored him for it. When I looked at the clock it said it was nearly eleven and so I asked Samson why he was not at work, to which he replied “I may not have the money to whisk you off to Scotland but I can afford to take a day off for our honeymoon.” They were the sweetest words Samson ever said and so we lay in bed the whole day long.

The second time was just as sweet. I had just given birth to Rosie, our first, it was a messy birth and doctors didn’t think I would make it. Samson’s mother was by my bedside being as controlling as always and I was contemplating willing myself dead so I would never have to hear her say the words “Push you silly little girl!” Ever again. Samson was at work when it happened and no one was able to get in touch with him and so my little brother, Michael, took it upon himself to run across town to the warehouse (that is where Samson was working at the time) to go and retrieve him. As sweet as the gesture was Michael was not quick enough and by the time they arrived back little Rosie had been born and my condition was critical. Throughout our marriage I saw Samson cry only twice and both times were on that day. When he laid his eyes on his precious daughter and her piggy eyes opened up to see his face for the first time, I saw Samson wipe a tear from his eye and half an hour later when the nurses came and said I was to be alright I saw him crying once more. He was a beautiful crier. His eyes glistened brighter than usual and it made him seem more of a man. The morning after, I awoke in my hospital bed to find Samson had set up camp alongside me. The time was nine and he was still asleep and so I left him be for I knew he had been up most the night worrying over me.”


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