Diary Found – Did Something Bad Happen in My House?
We’ve had excessive rain this week in Houston and some water got into my house through the roof. Nothing catastrophic like some of the other areas nearby, but enough that I needed to call a roofer since more rain is in the forecast. While the roofer was in my attic, checking on the damage, he came across a notebook. Somebody’s journal. Unfortunately, the water had gotten to all of the hand written pages except three. And these three are disturbing. I’ve transcribed the journal entries and want others to see if this is real. We’ve been in our house for almost 14 years. The owners before us moved because the wife had cancer. And there was one other owner before that, but I know nothing about them. Our home was built in 1975.
My feelings are crushed. There is said it. I gave him full notice that I wanted a gift this year, however small, but he got me nothing. Not even a card. He did utter the words, “Happy Valentine’s Day” over pizza, but that was all. It’s not my fault I can’t leave the house right now. I’ll get better soon, I know I will.
I’ve been alone for three days. He left a couple of sandwiches, but I thought he’d be back by now and ate too many, too soon. I could call the neighbor, we have a phone now, but I’ve bothered them enough. Besides they don’t understand. They think it’s so easy to go to the grocery store. To get in a car and put it in drive and go down the block and pick out groceries, and pay and leave. It’s not. In the meantime I’ve been watching reruns of Bewitched and laugh so much. I wish I could be Samantha Stephens.
Today was a good day. I had a breakthrough. The postman came to the door and needed a signature. Derwood, my husband’s new name curtesy of Endora from Bewitched, told me how important this package was to him. Last time I couldn’t do it, and he got very irritated with me. Derwood didn’t say it out loud, but I heard it in his silence. This time I opened the door just a crack, the postman slid the clipboard through, I signed it, and slid it back. He never saw my face. Afterwards I washed my hands for ten minutes.
Remember last time when I said I’d had a good day. I thought it only right to include today’s bad day. I tried to let Derwood touch me. He suggested we use a sheet from the bed in between us with one cutout. I thought it ridiculous, but knew I needed to try and continue my wifely duties, however when I heard the fabric rip, I panicked. He wouldn’t stop no matter how much I pleaded. When he finished, I pushed his sweaty body off and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. The cool tile felt good against my skin. Derwood knocked on the door and said he be back soon.
Just a quick note to say that all is well. Derwood came home. He apologized and said it’s okay to put our private time aside until I’m feeling stronger. Which is happening every day. I even sat in the backyard for 10 minutes while Derwood made me dinner. The sauce for the chicken tasted a little funny, but I didn’t want to tell him because he tried so hard and he’s not a wiz in the kitchen like me. A for effort! I was feeling very Samantha Stephens today.
Happy Cinco de Mayo. Not that I’m Hispanic, or know much about it, I just wanted to acknowledge it. Derwood and I enjoyed margaritas, though I only drank half. My stomach has been upset lately. I saw on the news that the flu is going around so that explains my throwing up. Just my luck to get it when I don’t even go out. I’m going to stop sitting outside 10 minutes a day for a while.
I’m so happy. I got a letter from my childhood pen pal. We write to each other about twice a year. It’s so nice to get mail. Everything we get typically has Derwood’s name on it. Even the magazines like Ladies’ Home Journal. But my pen pal Chandra is pregnant with her fourth child. Can you imagine? I can’t imagine one, let alone four. Thank goodness she has help. Her letter really lifted my spirits today. I’m still struggling with my health. One day it’s good, the next day it’s not. Derwood says I’m not getting enough vitamin D and need to start sitting in the backyard again. I’m thinking of trying later today.
Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been ill. Derwood is so worried about me. He says it must be his cooking so he’s hired someone to help me around the house and in the kitchen, but just until I get better. He’s so thoughtful. The girl helping is very sweet. And pretty. She says she doesn’t have a boyfriend right now, but soon enough she’ll have to beat em off with a stick.
I heard them giggling in the kitchen. Derwood and the girl. She thinks everything anyone says is funny. But it’s getting on my nerves. She’s supposed to leave when he gets home from work, but she’s been staying longer to eat with us. Derwood says it’s only right since she made it. Her cooking sucks. Sorry for my harsh words. If my mom were still alive she’d tan my hide for using that word. I was actually feeling better the past few weeks, and told him it was time to let the girl go, but then I had another spell. Derwood says it’s most likely the chemicals used on the lawn. He’s calling and cancelling their service contract immediately.
I’ve lost thirty pounds. Derwood is begging me to go to the doctor, but the girl has been helping me explain to him it’s not that bad. For once she’s on my side. The other night I fell on the way to the bathroom. I’m okay, but I blacked out and woke up next to the toilet. Derwood thinks it’s best if the girl moves in with us. I don’t like this idea. I’m planning on telling Derwood when he gets home tonight.
I can hardly hold my pen, but wanted to write down that I’m actually going to leave the house today to see fireworks. At first I told Derwood to go without me, what with my stomach problems and weakness, and leave the girl behind to take care of me, but he got so mad. Then he cried, saying he really wants to share something nice with me – even if I can only watch it from inside the car. I’ve agreed. I’ve thrown up twice today and really shouldn’t go, but I’m such a lucky woman to have a husband who cares so much. I wish I could twitch my mouth and make everything better like Samantha Stephens.
That was all there was. I don’t know if she ever came back from seeing fireworks. Why didn’t Derwood take her to a hospital? Is it because he was slowly poisoning this woman? I’ve thought about going to the police, but don’t know what to say, it was so long ago. And then I wonder, is this even real.