Chapter Text
Mary Cooper always kept going. She didn’t have time to sit and wallow, no matter how tough things got. Her husband made sure of that with his silent refusal to lift a pinky and help out at home. So, Mary pushed whatever troubled her down, and she kept going, doing what needed to be done. She made breakfast for the twins, even though Missy would rather eat that sugary cereal than touch something remotely healthy. She made sure Sheldon’s shirts were perfectly ironed, and she tried her best to keep Georgie out of trouble, even though he tried his darn best to make her efforts futile.
So, when Mary saw her husband being a little too friendly with Brenda, she pushed her feelings down. She went to work, she came home and served dinner, and when George lay snoring in their bed like an angry bull, she silently shed her tears in the dark. Sometimes, she dreamed about taking the kids and leaving, but those thoughts were pushed away too. A good Christian wife didn’t divorce her husband. So, Mary stayed.
It was a normal Tuesday when George didn’t come home in time for dinner.
“Where’s dad? He never misses dinner,” Sheldon asks, more out of curiosity than actual worry. Sheldon has a hard time with other people, and feelings in general. Mary knows that, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying about his future.
“He’s working late today,” she answers, her tone a bit too sharp for the innocent question. Missy frowns, much more perceptive than her brother. She opens her mouth, probably to ask more questions, but Mary sends her a look that shuts her mouth. She knows, deep down, that her husband is with Brenda, but she refuses to acknowledge it. That would make it real, and Mary doesn’t have the energy to think about her husband’s ‘friendliness’ with their neighbor. They eat dinner in relative peace, Sheldon talks about some science stuff, and Missy chatters on about Heather M. from school. The peace doesn’t last. She almost scoffs at herself for thinking that it would. George stumbles through the door while she’s cleaning up after dinner. Sheldon went to his room right after eating to do something on his computer, and Missy and Georgie are watching TV in the living room.
The first thing she notices is the thick smell of beer coming from her husband. He’s drunk. She steels herself for the coming argument, he’s never in a good mood when he comes home drunk.
“Georgie, take Missy outside for a bit,” Mary half-yells into the living room before turning to her husband. “You’re coming home drunk on a Tuesday now? Don’t even try to deny it, you stink of beer,” she tells him, not quite yelling, but her tone leaves no doubt about her feelings on this.
“Let’s not pretend you suddenly care what I’m doing, Mary! You barely even notice when I’m here because you’re so busy,” George said, voiced raised and laced in irritation. Mary scoffed, “I’m only so busy cause you never do anything. You go to work, and then you sit in that chair all evening while I run around trying to keep this family from erupting into chaos.”
“Yeah, cause some of us actually work hard to put food on the table!”
“I work too, but some of us just don’t have the luxury of closing our eyes when things need to be done. You need to put this family first,” Mary shouts, getting increasingly frustrated.
“Oh, don’t pretend you do. You haven’t asked what I want once in the last 11 years. You only care about the kids and Jesus!”
“You know what, I’m leaving. I’ll sleep at my mother’s house.” Mary slams the door on her way out, not even looking at George as she leaves. She is so darn tired of this, of him doing what he wants, not even considering what’s best for the family. Well, he can take care of the kids tonight. Her feet carry her to her mother’s house without her really noticing, and suddenly she’s knocking on the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. The door swings open, her mother stands on the other side in her robe, a look of concern replacing the frown on her face as she takes in the state of her daughter.
“What’d he do this time?” She asks as she steps aside to let Mary inside. “He came home drunk, didn’t even call. I think… I think he was with Brenda,” Mary says between sniffles. Her mother wraps her arms around her in a rare hug, whispering “oh honey. He is an idiot.” Mary just keeps crying into her mother’s shoulder.
“Can I stay here tonight?”
“Of course. C’mon.”
Mary doesn’t stop crying, even as the door closes behind her.