Day 11: Longing for More

The Prompt: Flesh out the woman from the well who met Jesus and gave Him some water.  Who is she?  Why did she divorce all her husbands and live with her boyfriend?  Why did the other woman not like her?  What was her name?

I tried researching an accurate name for her, maybe something that meant "lost" or "sadness", but I couldn't find anything.  She shall be named The Woman.  As depressing as this story is, it was rather easy to write.  You can't judge a person until you've walked a mile in her shoes.

When I was fourteen, I ran away and got married.  I know that might sound a little young, but what can I say?  I was in love.  Pah!  Love has never helped me any.  I thought I was in love.  It turns out my first husband was selfish and saw me only as someone he wanted when he felt like it.  Otherwise, he made me clean and keep house until my hands were raw.  I think our marriage really fell apart after we lost our first baby during delivery.  He wouldn't forgive me for being a failure as a woman.  I managed to divorce him by age 17.  I married my second husband soon afterwards.  I thought we were happy at first, but we grew apart.  We really tried to make it work, but something was always missing.  I think he met someone else towards the end.  I could never prove it.  We divorced after four years, and I took our two-year-old son with me.

My life changed forever after I met my third husband.  He was my favorite, my only love.  The world seemed brighter, everything seemed better with him by my side.  I'll never forget the kindness he showed to me, a poor divorcee with a hungry toddler.  He could have chosen any woman much better than me to marry.  Instead, he chose to love me.  I'll treasure that love forever.  He always treated me right, and he loved my son like he was his own.  He loved our daughter the same way.  It's a shame he never got to see what his own son looked like.  He was killed during a mob when he went to market one day.  A part of me died with him.

The days were a blur after that.  Thanks to his sister's kindness, I was not alone when my third child was born.  She and her husband helped us out for a few months, giving us a room to share and enough food to eat, but I could not take advantage of her kindness any longer.  I left in the cover of night.  It was too painful living in a town where everywhere I turned I was reminded of my dead husband.

My children and I traveled for a few days before I finally found a place that was suitable for us all to live.  We lived off of the charity of others for a little while, but there is only so much that can provide for three young ones.  I had to do something to help take care of them.  It went against what I wanted to do in my heart, but I was a desperate woman.  I found a man in town who was rich and single, and I used my womanly charm to convince him to marry me.  Too bad I have poor taste in men.  He was mean and reminded me of my first husband.  I think he even looked on me with disdain.  Again, that marriage was short-lived, and I packed up my children and left.

By this time my oldest was nearly ten, but I felt like I had aged 15 years since I had him.  I tried working out in the fields for a little while, gleaning what I could.  Even the children helped when they could.  Everyone was so nice to me in that town too.  They thought I was a widow struggling to provide for my three children, which was partially true.  Why did my younger son have to let it slip that Mommy had left another man before we moved?  Public opinion changed towards us after that.  Yet, still there was a man who looked kindly on us, who soon became husband #5.

I really think he married me out of pity at first, but perhaps he had fallen in love with me.  He did look like he had a broken heart after I told him I wanted a divorce.  Sure, call me cruel and heartless if you want.  Maybe I was.  I was tired an worn.  My heart was so scarred you couldn't find a clean spot to stick a knife in it anymore.  I couldn't let anybody, not even my husband get close to me.  I couldn't bear to go through what happened with my dear third husband again.  That's why I refused to love.  I did feel guilty after leaving him though.  The kids really seemed to like him.  I probably wouldn't have left him if I had known I was pregnant.  I didn't find out until a couple months later.

The town thought we divorced because I had an affair.  I didn't care what they thought after that.  I went back to gleaning.  I didn't bring home as much as I used to, even though the harvest was plentiful.  I couldn't live like this forever.  I had a new baby.  I was beginning to think even my children hated me.  They needed a provider, stability, but I couldn't get married, not again.  So I hung out around various unattached men, trying to see if they liked me enough to let us hang around.  I was getting old.  My feminine charm wasn't as strong as it used to be, but finally it caught someone's attention.

That's where I am now.  My boyfriend and I have a mutual understanding.  We like each other and have a good time sometimes, but we know it's not love.  He's not sure if he's ready for marriage, and I don't want it.  I let him see other women, and he helps me provide for my children.  I have a side job, but I'm too ashamed to tell you what it is.  It helps me feed my kids, and that's all that matters.

Even though this system works well, I feel a void in my life.  I'm going through the motions.  I'm not living.  My oldest son ran away last year.  My daughter doesn't respect me.  Even my younger son is starting not to love me as much.  Only my toddler loves me.  She doesn't know any better yet.  I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can't.  I just have to live with my miserable existence.  No one understands.  They just glare at me and remember how I treated my last husband.  No forgiveness.  No love.  How can anyone though, when I can't even feel that way towards myself?