Excerpt: The Frightening Reality of Mrs. Vankamp

“Anne, I’m leaving you,” Jim said, February 14, during dinner. Anne sat forward in her seat, and quickly grabbed the bowl of pasta she had made, and checked on it. She immediately recognized this impulse was silly, and her heart sank into her toes.
“Wh-why?” Anne managed to get out, her tongue stopping movement in a dry surrender. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I’ve been cheating on you, Anne. Since August. I wanted to avoid what I was doing so I tried to take us on a romantic journey in London. I’ve just had a hard time with women lately…”
Anne held everything inside her up by a flimsy plastic bag. She held onto it carefully, holding it would not break and spill. “Since my books topped the best seller list—” Jim continued.
“What, the best fucker list?!” screamed Anne. She had no idea how her voice got so loud, so threatening, and so invasive. She had never heard her voice like that before.
“I’ve fallen in love with another author,” said Jim. “I can only be in love with those on the same intellectual level as me—your stories of teaching aren’t contemporary anymore—you’re always grading, and you never write with me anymore. You aren’t a writer anymore, Anne.”
Anne had never heard anything more horrible in her entire life. This time, Jim shot and aimed to kill, and Anne the gazette fell to the ground and bled out, while Anne the human felt a rage build up that she had never known before. “Well then just get the fuck out of here!” she shouted. “Get your fucking ass and all of your shit out of my house, get the fuck out and leave me the hell alone! You have the nerve to come in here and just so matter-of-factly tell me, ‘Oh I’ve been cheating on you.’ FUCK YOU, JIM! FUCK OFF, AND GET OUT!” she bellowed, pushing him with all of her might.
He fell over backwards onto the kitchen table, fracturing his pelvic bone. Anne fell to the floor, bruised her leg, twisted her ankle, and fractured her heart.
What does one do when one discovers she is unlovable? Can time even heal the wounds of the years with your soul mate, ripped away in a moment?
Anne stayed where she was in the kitchen for a few minutes, as if waiting for her husband to just leave the house. As she sat in solidarity, she realized that she was alone. Her husband was gone. And she was sitting on the floor of her kitchen, holding her ankle and crying.
She felt no outward pain, though from the looks of her, she looked like the most pained person in the universe. Though her ankle was sprained, she could not feel it. All she could feel were the bends and twists from inside her that caused the tears to build up and fall.
Anne went to the phone, knowing herself and her history with emotional situations. Anne then picked up the phone and decided to call her most reliable substitute teacher and friend, Mr. Smith. “I am having family issues,” she said. “I can’t come in this week.”