Salty tears streamed down Martha’s rose-colored cheeks. The young woman was barely old enough to be called a woman at all. She should not have to have this experience. Her mom had told her that it would happen someday. Her exact words were “it is inevitable”. But, she did not really believe it. Her mom had always been the skeptical type.
The young woman shook her head defiantly, wiping the droplets from her skin with her palm. She should not cry! She was stronger than this! Feeling the soft touch of her own flesh against her face made her cry all the harder.
Martha pressed down on the gas. The front of the car shook as she sped up. She did not know how fast she was going on the dirt road, and could not say that she cared. Her blue eyes locked on the hand that had swept away her tears. The hand with the finger that was laced with a gaudy ring that had cost a dime more than it should have. The tears fell like a heavy rain.
Her young husband could understand how much this had hurt her. She just wanted him to understand. Martha wanted to know that he cared.
Martha rolled down the window, sucking in the night air. She even turned up the radio to drown out the thoughts that pounded inside of her head. Nothing seemed to work.
How could this be? How could she have broken a nail?