Everyone has their own perspective…
(Sara) Snippets of memories flashed. Bedroom exploits that had left her in tears. Rude comments and innuendos that confused her. And Brad’s many disappearances without explanation over the past six years of their marriage. Too numerous in these last few months to count anymore. They bombarded her with a sudden vengeance. She fought them off, but knew, deep in her soul, things had not ever been as they seemed.
She couldn’t go there. Wouldn’t allow it. This would ruin everything. Her ideal family. Sure, things weren’t as great as she hoped. But she wasn’t going to entertain these intrusions into the life she fought so hard to maintain every day.
What does this say about you?
The whisper caught her off guard. A cry rose in her throat, but she forced it down. She knew the answer. It was her fault. No matter how hard she tried she would never be good enough.
(Brad)Why couldn’t he form the words? Say no. Throw her out? His mind played fantasies with Shaneel as the leading role. Pictures, movie scenes, videos rushed in on him as if in an attack. A luscious, sensuous, surrender-now barrage. Where had they come from? But he knew the answer before the question finished forming in his mind. He’d gorged himself on those images for years. Now they turned against him.
Shaneel’s touch burned his arm with a heat that set him ablaze.
Brad caught a glimpse of the picture he kept on his desk. His family smiled at him. Sara stared. He pushed his chair back. Away from the heat of the moment and the seductress taunting him.
(Lucinda)Pastor Lucinda Bell watched Sara until the kids’ entrance swallowed her up. Something about the young mother tugged at her heart. Appearances deceived, and she didn’t believe what she observed. To her, Sara’s cry for help was written all over her face. And not simply because of the couple of little mascara smudges left over from tears. The fact that her husband was obviously missing today also added to her concern.
She breathed in deeply and exhaled a prayer, hoping and pleading with Jesus that Sara would visit her in the next few days. Something wasn’t right in that family. Perhaps God would use her to help.
(Faith)Faith picked up her phone, started a text and erased it. Again. For the third time.
Ever since being with Sara at the hospital, a niggling sense of dread pushed at her to have a hard conversation with her new friend. But the right words didn’t materialize. Of course she’d taken over a couple of dinners, watched Boyd and Jasmine and sat with Sara chatting about babies and feeding schedules.
How could she put words to the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach? She’d glimpsed the awful bruising one day when she had stopped by to bring dinner, and Sara needed some help getting Taren situated on her lap for feeding. But Sara evaded her gentle questions and regaled stories of Brad’s loving helpfulness during her recovery. What if she was wrong? Could she be imagining the worst?
3 thoughts on “The Many Sides of Tragedy”
You’re writing some really good stuff Laura! 😃
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Thank you so much, Ken!