Written by Melissa Ruth Rotert
YOU KNEW I WAS A SNAKE | Artwork by Catherine McGuire
[Insert husband here] never remembers to buy the milk. Every night he calls before he leaves the office and asks if we need anything while he’s out. For the last three nights I’ve been asking him for milk. I know I could get it myself—and I normally would—but this time I said fuck it. I am the juggling act of this circus and I refuse to keep this carton of milk from the ground any longer. He comes home with bread instead—or potato chips, or chocolate for my bad mood.
[Insert husband here] says I have control issues. He says maybe I wouldn’t be so stressed all the time if I just learned to ask for help. If I let him ease some of my burden. But [insert husband here] doesn’t have any clue what my burden is—that Rose likes ketchup on her bologna sandwich, is allergic to watermelon, and hates the texture of cold cheese; that the electric bill comes the third week of every month; that planning a night out for myself requires hiring him as the babysitter and fielding calls every hour on how to be alone with our child. He says people who lead healthy lives don’t hold onto responsibility so tightly. Sometimes I imagine holding on to [insert husband here]’s throat so tightly his eyes pop.
[Insert husband here] brings home flowers every Friday night and never notices how much I sneeze as I prepare them in the vase. Last week he stepped in the dog’s shit while coming in from the garage. He didn’t notice the smell. He didn’t notice that I’d just mopped the floors. He didn’t notice when my fists clenched so tightly that my middle fingernail drew blood to the surface of my palm.
[Insert husband here] tells me that he loves me and kisses my cheek before he rolls over each night. He whispers someone else’s name in his sleep. The same someone that I smell on his clothing every Wednesday night. He never asks me why I don’t say I love you back. It doesn’t seem to bother [insert husband here] that I wince as his lips approach me and relax once he’s turned away.
[Insert husband here] comes home on Friday with flowers instead of milk in his hands. He doesn’t notice that the house is quieter than Rose has ever been capable of being unless asleep, that the dog doesn’t bark as he approaches the front door, that the only light on in our home is the one above the kitchen sink. In fact, his keys go in the dish on the entrance table with his wallet, and he walks to the kitchen to deliver the gift of pollen to a wife he assumes is waiting for him with open arms. He finds the vase on the center island. Wedged inside is the kind of envelope that holds a thank-you note. [Insert husband here] smiles, opens it eagerly, expecting some loving message of appreciation. Instead he finds my wedding ring and a three-word note that reads, “You need milk.”
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Melissa Ruth Rotert is a kidlit writer whose short fiction helps to explore genres and themes that novel-length writing doesn’t always allow. She is Co-EIC of Epistemic Literary and Nimblewitlit Magazines. Her work includes her debut MG series which starts with Sue B and the Ridders, her young adult science fiction Alone in the Multiverse, and short fiction published with OxMag, Wild Ink Publishing, and others. Born in the Midwest and raised in Western New York, Melissa is an avid Buffalo Bills fan who enjoys exploring every day with her sons and dogs.