Fiction: The Good Wife & The Armchair

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Hilary Melton-Butcher and are hosted at Elephant's Child's blog over here. An additional prompt from Charlotte (MotherOwl) is Signal Green. This week's prompts are: discourteous, flicker, martini, whips, belly and/or waving, frogs, moderation, smile, louring. I used the first half of the prompts.

Fiction: The Good Wife & The Armchair

June 2
Amber Wonderman wasn't looking for a chair but when she wandered through Jacob's yard sale on an early Sunday morning and spotted the green armchair, she immediately wanted it. After a few negotiations which Jacob kept claiming the chair was an antique and that he couldn't possibility get any lower than 100 dollars, he gave in when Amber pulled out three ten dollar bills out of her wallet. Jacob said he didn't deliver even though it was five houses away. So Amber lugged the armchair home. All the way, she grumbled how discourteous Jacob was as a neighbor.
    Amber had a hard time placing the armchair. In the livingroom, it was already crowded with an L-sectional red sofa, a recliner and a glass coffee table. In their bedroom, Guy, Amber's husband, insisted it couldn't stay there as his gym equipments needed room to breathe. In the guest room, it was stuffed to the brim with unused, dust-covered furniture and boxes. In the dinning room, there was no space with the long table and eight chairs. So Amber left the armchair in the livingroom facing the red sofa and moved the recliner to the opposite side.
    The first time Amber sat on the armchair, the seat, the backrest and ample armrests held Amber like she was a newborn. There was a faint scent of baby powder in the air that reminded her of her childhood. After that, she couldn't resist sitting on it every chance she get.

June 3
A day later, when Amber returned from visiting her sick mother, the armchair was gone. Being exhausted, she said nothing. Later, when Guy had gone to bed, she searched the house and found the armchair in the basement.
    That evening, a storm came and brought water enough to soak most basements including Amber's. In the morning, after Guy went to work, Amber waded through all the junk and got everything cleaned and dried and back in their place. She left the armchair out in the backyard to dry. A few hours later, when Amber checked on the armchair, her neighbor's rose garden was leaning a little over the fence and hovering just above the armchair.

June 7
Three days afterward, when Amber came home from visiting her mother, she found the armchair back in the livingroom all dried and was plusher than before and it smelled like roses. She immersed in the armchair. Thoughts of a peaceful garden flickered through her mind and then was slowly replaced by the image of her mother dying in her bed.
    In the evening, Guy returned from work, had his shower and dinner and when he went to sit on the sofa, he tripped over the armchair. He cursed and then picked up the chair and carried it outside onto the sidewalk for trash collection. Then he sat down and watched tv. Amber didn't say anything.

June 10
Three days later, the armchair returned to the living room. Amber didn't know how it got there but when Guy came home and saw it, he lost his temper, cursed out the chair and took a baseball bat and beat it like a maniac high on drugs and he then took it outside for trash collection.
    
June 17
A week later, the armchair, again, returned to their livingroom, undamaged. Guy didn't say anything. He walked around it, sat on the sofa, turned on the television and watched a game. After dinner, he made a phone call. In the morning, a man with a truck from a charity shop, came and took the armchair away. Amber didn't try to fight it as she knew it was of no use but she began to wonder if the armchair might have a life of its own.

June 20
Three days later, Amber came home from a visit to her mother and found the armchair back in the living room. As Guy was away on a business trip, Amber got to enjoy her armchair. She sipped ice tea and pretended it was martinis and took in the scent of orange jessamine the chair gave off.

June 21
The next day, early in the evening, Guy returned and tripped on the armchair while trying to get to the sofa. "That damm chair!" he grumbled. "Can't you put it somewhere else?"
    Amber had came out of the kitchen and was just going to ask if Guy wanted his dinner in the livingroom. She stopped near the coffee table and responded with, "No, I can't."
    Guy glared at her. "Did you say no?" He stood up and whipped off his belt and struck her on the arm. She gasped. "Don't you say no to me! I work all day and you give me lip!" He struck her again and she fell onto her belly. Amber never wanted Guy dead but every now and then, when he put her down like this, she thought of murdering the man.
    Guy threw the belt aside, went to the kitchen and took one of the knives and sliced and diced the armchair like an onion and then put all the pieces in a large bag and put it outside for trash collection.
    
June 24
Three days later when Amber's bruises and wounds were better, she went to visit her mother in the morning. When she returned in the evening, she found the armchair back in the living room. It was undamaged as if whatever Guy had done to it, it had mended itself.
    When Guy came down as he was sleeping all day, he fumed. "How the heck— You brought another chair? You shouldn't be spending money on useless things, Amber!" he shouted.
    "Really? You brought a new car while I drive your beat-up sedan so why can't I have my used chair?"
    "That car is for work. I can't look like a hobo going to work!"
    "Oh, so it's okay for me to look like a hobo?"
    "You don't even work!"
    "Just let me keep the chair, Guy."
    "I'm not going to argue with you, Amber. Get that damm chair out of my house before I get home, you hear me?"
    "No, I won't do it."
    "You won't?" He scoffed. Then he struck Amber in the face. "How about now?"
    "No! I won't do it." Her eyes stung but she met his eyes.
    He nodded. "Fine." He picked up the armchair and lifted it up and flung it at her. She turned her back to him. She didn't scream when she heard the sound of wood breaking nor the weight of the chair that was pinning her to the floor.
    "I'm going out. This mess had better be cleaned up when I get home!" The sound of the front door slamming made her shuddered.

June 27
Another three days later, late in the afternoon, Amber was lying on the sofa after cleaning the house, when the phone rang. It was the hospice. Her mother was in critical condition. Amber got her purse and rushed out of the house and was driving faster than usual but the beat-up sedan stalled just before a green light. By the time she reached the hospice, got up to her mother's room, the doctor was pulling the sheet over her face. After signing some papers and making arrangements with the local funeral parlor, Amber returned home.
    Once she stepped inside the house, she found the chair had returned in its undamaged state back in the livingroom. She sank into it. The scent of jasmine, much like her mother's perfume, rose in the air. For a while, she sat and stared at nothing but she was not sad or angry, she was comforted. Her mother's doctor had said her mother wasn't going to make it to the end of June but Amber still wished she had the chance to say goodbye.
    Amber was still sitting in the armchair when Guy came home. He glanced at Amber and said, "So you got the chair fixed. Well, let's not argue about it." He sat down on the sofa. "Get me something cold to drink."
    Amber went to the kitchen and returned with a tray with a pitcher full of ice tea and a glass. She began pouring the tea into the glass. "My mother died today," she said though she wasn't sure why she said it as Guy never cared for her mother.
    "Really? That old crow lasted this long?" He chuckled.
    "I didn't get to say goodbye because the car stalled."
    "That's too bad. You should have remember to have it checked." He picked up the newspaper and started reading.
    Amber straightened up, still holding the pitcher. "I should have the car checked? I had it checked tons of times and they said it needed a new alternator and you said, I should wait until it really needs it!"
    He dropped the newspaper and stood up. "So what you are saying? It's my fault you didn't get to say goodbye to that old crow?"
    "Don't you dare call her that!" she shouted.
    "Oh, I forgot. You worshipped her. She raised you all alone - a supermom! For all you know she might had paid the bills using some unmentionable ways." He laughed.
    She reached out but he gripped her arm before her hand could reach his face. "Don't forget who pays your mother's medical bills." He threw her arm away and sat down on the sofa and picked up the glass full of ice tea and took a sip.
    In the last few years, Amber had contemplated why she married Guy when she had a lot of choices. Perhaps she was dumb and didn't see him for what he was. If her mother hadn't gotten sick, perhaps she would left him years ago.
    "By the way, we're selling the sedan. Now that your mother's dead, there's no need for you to have a car."
    She remained silent, still gripping the pitcher. It was time she left him.
    "And we're not keeping that stupid chair. There's enough chairs as it is." He took another sip of his tea.
    She glared at him. "I'm keeping the chair."
    "What was that you've just said?" He put the empty glass on the table and stood up. His eyes looked ready to pop out their sockets.
    "I said, I'm keeping my chair." She would have taken a step back but her legs seemed frozen.
    Guy nodded and grinned. "Dare to say that again?" He grabbed her hair and pulled it back. She screamed and he grabbed the pitcher from her and poured, letting tea dribbled down the side of her face and chin. She tried to swallow as quick as possible but she kept choking and spitting even as she struck out with her hands at him. He let her go and threw the pitcher onto the floor.
    Amber dropped to the floor and coughed and coughed until she could breath easy. She stared at the carpet. The ice tea was soaking through the white carpet and snaking its way around the coffee table. The scent of rosemary mixed with the jasmine rose around her. Amber and her mother used to spend time in their tiny kitchen mixing perfumes from leftover flowers her mother got from her job. She would let Amber decided which ones to keep and which to sell.
    "Clean up the mess!" Guy looked at the armchair up and down. "You know, I should give it a try. Let's see what's so great about this dumb chair!" He pushed Amber aside and sat down on the green armchair. "This is sweet!" he said and leaned back. Slivers of lights ran through his body and he shook and shook and shook. Then he was as still as stone with his wide eyes staring at nothing.
    Still sitting on the floor, Amber looked Guy over. Was he dead? After a few moments of stillness, she dragged herself upward, wiped her face with the back of her hands and walked toward the kitchen. She was going to get a towel to clean the carpet but she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. What was the hurry? That carpet couldn't be saved. Her stomach grumbled. She had waited for Guy to eat dinner. She got up and heated up the lasagna in the microwave and then sat down to eat it along with a glass of milk. She didn't return to the livingroom for some hours. By then, she knew Guy was gone.
    Later, when the police showed up, Guy was lying on the tea-stained carpet. The green armchair was nowhere. Amber stood silently on the side as the paramedics carried Guy out of the house.
    Toward midnight, when she was in bed, Amber replayed the moment Guy sat on the armchair and then looking vacant. Did the armchair kill him? She couldn't make up her mind. She turned onto her side and fell asleep. In her dreams, her mother was sitting on the green armchair and reading out loud from a book while Amber was sitting on the floor and listening. On most days, Amber's mother often came home exhausted but when she sat down on the armchair and read, she was the most lively person around.

June 28
In the morning, the armchair was again in the livingroom, looking almost like it had always been there. The carpet was now a brownish hue but Amber didn't take notice. As she sat down on the armchair, she had an inkling of selling everything in the house and buying new furniture but keeping the armchair. She smiled and sipped her ice tea and inhaled the sweet scent of rosemary and honey - a scent Amber's mother used to made for her.