Madness by Jessica Pierce

Madness

             John and his wife have asked me along with them while their house is being repaired. John doesn’t like to be too far from me. I think it’s sweet. I feel it a little desperate on John’s part though. A man can’t be too far from his mistress. His wife is in her own world and oblivious to our relationship. She thinks we are siblings, of all things. She didn’t even meet me until after she fell ill, but had met the rest of John’s family before the wedding. I admire that she is so trusting of her husband. She leaves us alone without a second thought. John thinks her “nervousness” can be cured. I am hoping not. What will happen to me? What will happen to US? If she gets better, this life of mine will cease to be. Her being sick is what thrust John into my arms (bed) in the first place. If he cures her, where will I fit in?
            


            
            Although her more sane moments seem to be when she is writing, John doesn’t like his wife to write. He is afraid her imagination will take what little is left of her sanity. This is my attempt to see what all the fuss is about. She wants to write, but he doesn’t want her to. I don’t see the big deal. If anything this is helping me get my thoughts in order and allowing me to let out emotions without spilling secrets. I won’t let him know that I am writing. He asks me to keep an eye on his wife; to make sure she doesn’t write. After all, I am here to help with her recovery.
           Her illness is unnamed. Ever since she gave birth to their son she has been in a sort of daze. She doesn’t eat on her own or bathe on her own. John says to remind her it’s time to do these things, and that she should rest as much as possible. I don’t mind. It gives me time to bond with the baby. He looks like John. He has John’s eyes and he even has the same smirk that John gives when he is being mischievous. When John comes home and leaves her to continue resting, it is like we have our own little family. That is the best part of my day.

           

The house that we are all sharing is only for three months. John has patients that he tends to during the day and sometimes at night. He is a physician. He cares for his patients into all hours of the night and sometimes doesn’t come home. I cook the meals and tidy the house. John just wants his wife to rest so she can get better, which leaves me to run this house. He gives her all types of medicines and special instructions, and it seems to do no good. She mostly stays up in their bedroom keeping to herself, except when I make myself go up there and tend to her. She is a person, and I am not cruel. I won’t leave her to wither away. Although, I do wish she would just go completely mad already. Then I would have John all to myself.

          He has put their bedroom in the highest room of the house. The room is in awful condition. The wallpaper is a hideous color and is peeling off. It looks as if the previous tenants didn’t take care of this room. The only furniture that looks to be there is a bed that is nailed down. There isn’t even a dust shadow of any other types of furniture.  John seems to be annoyed that his wife makes such a big deal of the wallpaper, and he has denied all her requests to switch to a different room. It is actually quite convenient. She stays up in her room, and I don’t have to see her that much.

           

As days go by, John seems more concerned with his patients and less concerned with his wife. The way he speaks to her evokes that she is a burden. He dismisses her thoughts and comments, and barely makes an effort in her treatment anymore. The more he feels this way, the more he turns to me for comfort. I don’t mind. All of this will show him that I am the wiser choice.

           

We have been here for almost three months now. John has been spending more time with patients. He has told me that he will be staying closer to where his patients reside, as he has late night and early morning appointments. His wife seems quite excited to be able to have a night alone in her room. I offer, regrettably, to sleep with her so she isn’t lonely, and much to my delight she declines. Surprisingly, she is quite adamant that she be alone. I am not going to argue with her. I feel she argues with herself enough. I wish she were sleeping alone because John had decided to share a bed with me that night, but it won’t be long before he does. His wife is a hair away from complete madness. He surely can’t want to be in there with her.

           The question I have is “Why is John trying to cure her?” This is the perfect excuse to get away from her and to be with me. She is more worried about that ugly wallpaper than anything else. That is perfect evidence of madness. So why can’t John just admit it and walk away from her? Does he still love her? Surely he can’t. She isn’t normal. She can’t hold her own child and I can’t remember the last time she even asked about him. I understand that they are married and John and I aren’t, but she isn’t functioning as a wife. She is barely functioning as a human. Can’t he see all that I do and how much better I am to be with?

John comes back today. I think I may bring up my concerns to him. I just need to know if I am ever going to be the important woman in his life. I understand he has obligations to his wife, but doesn’t he see how much I care and all I do for him? What annoys me is that I am trying to figure out how to talk to John and all I hear is his wife upstairs making noise. It sounds like she is moving things around but the bed is nailed down so I can’t imagine what she is doing. I don’t even care to go check on her. John will be home soon and I want to talk with him before I lose the nerve.

Finally, John is back. I smile when I see him, and it shocks me how effortless the smile comes. It feels like a glimpse into our life, the life that we will make together. I decided earlier that I should talk with him after he checks on his wife. Then she can’t gain his sympathy with her irrational thoughts. I am excited the repairs are done and am ready to go back home and see what life we make together.

           

               

                I don’t think I can stomach this anymore. I feel so sick. John is gone. He went to check on his deranged wife, and when he tried to open the door, she had locked it. She yelled to him that the key is on the path in the front yard. He goes and gets the key and opens the door, and is stunned. His wife was on her back circling the room by inching around like a worm. She had ripped all the wallpaper off and her wormlike movements had left a bald circle around the wall from where her shoulder was rubbing up against it. The shock of seeing her like that and the room in such condition gave my wonderful John a heart attack. The thump of him dropping to his death is a sound I will not soon forget. I tried so hard to be the one he wanted to spend his life with, and she still won. Her madness took him before he could share life with me.