The curious case of my wife

It’s a chilly December evening and I had just eaten an experimental dish prepared by my wife, I disliked every spoon I put in my mouth.

“Its amazing baby, how do you prepare meals with such expected taste always.”

My wife pretended to make an apologetic expression and sat quite eating her food showing how bad she felt. I took the newspaper from the dining table and went to sit in the lobby, some people find it strange that I read the newspaper at the end of the day but I never understood why? what is in this paper that I should spend my precious morning for it, some regular politics view, assumptions on government parties and elections, some useless information, advertisement?

I felt a little guilty about the dinner, I should’ve confessed to her that I am feeling stupid to make the comment after eating, I should have said it on the very first bite. I would have saved myself from that ridiculous Dinner, I spend another day among these miserable and shabby kids trying to call themselves artists and when I come home, my own wife ruined the only thing left to be ruined. All that’s left in this dying night is this useless newspaper. Curiously I scanned through for something interesting, I kept staring the newspaper in despair skimming from one column to another. ‘House to let’, ‘Lost pets’, ‘Sports’, Thump and finally, something worth a while with the Title ‘Wives and the apprentices run away’. I attacked the editorial matter with a great resolution without getting anything about it to work, conceiving the possibility of it being coded with strange structure. Surely the writer trying to be a confusing wishing to prove his failed strength, that unsatisfying result almost made me throw away the paper in disguise but a folio of four pages fell from the middle of the newspaper. Which were two pamphlets and an article about grieving from fresh literature students, something critics don’t like to criticize? Explained with an accompanying story.

‘The avenues of death’ by ‘Rayma Chakraborty’, the short story describes the death of his college mate who was bullied and teased with nieve intentions. As someone throws a small piece of gum or paper on him every now and then this guy became all worked up slowly and planned to take smart revenge by throwing small nails on his classmate with a straw. Enjoying it for a while he ended up swallowing the tiny nails and choked to death. Moral of the story ‘Don’t swallow nails?’

I felt a feeling of rage on the kids writing worthless fiction with unprovable possibilities of odd accidents. No wonder why nobody wants to critique there work. A thought crosses my mind about my wife’s complaints with me, that is an Infinite series of blabbering, no matter what I explain and how I explain, I always end up wondering why I explained. She always finds a way to provoke my anger. Is it her way to force me to live with her? By proving me how miserable I am without any hope of changing ever?

In many occasions, I felt her unhappy state of mind, while she chatters with my boss and colleagues touching their hands, smoking with them and if I ever bring it up, she reminds me of my past which a foolish person told her, ‘ME’. The irony that if she finds its so difficult then why she just don’t leave me and go live with her parents but to always expecting me to apologize and finish the fight.

What happens if I don’t? she will keep crying for hours and hours making me believe that I am a terrible person who makes innocent women cry for no reason but really ‘what the big deal on not liking her profile picture’. Maybe she is just finding ways to make me really believe that I am a terrible, miserable person.

I shouted her name, standing restlessly in the dining hall and she appears with her disgusted face looking at me with complete disappointment in her eyes, I asked her about the food again and why does she prepare it the way she did. How hard could it be to read a god damn cookbook and prepare something eatable but she didn’t reply and kept crying for twenty minutes and as my anger ramp up into shouting she replied with an angry voice-

’OK I am sorry, I will prepare nice food next time as you like’ and continued crying.

I looked at her for a while thinking I know everything about your next time which never arrived for anything, I can write a god damn novel on it.

I am not your master I said and neither are you bound to follow my commands but I expect a way we can communicate and talk to each other.

She looked at me with building rage and answered-

‘Then explains to me why you didn’t like the dinner, why the food was not good for you? Maybe you are trying to make everything my fault and make me think that I made it that way intentionally, you will never know how I feel’ she turned and climb up the stairs saying a sarcastic ‘good night’.

I stood still with her way of making me uneasy, what is her problem and why can’t she just answer a normal question. She can’t be angry about anything and gives unpredictable answers to my attempt on making a conversation, we are married from two years for god sake. Just a day before yesterday she promised me with loving words ‘I will be always with you for everything until death apart us’ and at that very evening, she argued with me to go shopping with her leaving my article unfinished, making a huge scene when I refused.

Is that the way she is helping me?

Hold on for a second, No way! It was all her plan. I thought in my mind, She knew that I wouldn’t leave my work unfinished and it will create a fight which will help her to go alone and use the time to do something else, something else like what? Shopping, going to a restaurant? no not shopping as she tags me along for everything and not even going to a restaurant as she doesn’t like spending time alone like me, maybe she wanted to meet somebody she couldn’t meet with me. A new friend or is she having an affair? All the blame games just to provoke me and pretending like a helpless supporting wife to fulfill some secret motives. It’s a quite compelling assumption but in that case, why is she still struggling to cop-up with my mess instead of just leaving me in an instance.

I shouted her name but she ignored, I shouted again and she slams the door open and steps down to the hallway, what follows next was all in form of screaming and shouting inside the house.

‘What is your problem?’ she shouted while coming down.

‘If you don’t like me, why the hell you are still here?’ I replied in a similar tone.

‘How in this world one can be crazier than you? Why the hell you need to take revenge for a stupid meal?’ she said in burning rage.

‘Swear to God, swear that you didn’t want to go alone the day before yesterday?’ I said

‘When a man refuses her wife to accompany, it’s the worst insult for women in this world. You don’t respect my company and you don’t want to join me for anything.’ She replied

‘Don’t change the topic, answer me my question.’ I asked again

‘What, that why you are making the mess out of the thing?’ she tried to provoke me again.

‘No, that you didn’t do it on intention’. I tried to stay on the subject.

‘Did what?’ she replied counting on my patience,

‘Stop it and answer me!’ I shouted punching on the wall.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about’ she played sad seeing I all worked up.

‘Yes, I went alone because my husband doesn’t want to admire me’ is that what you want to hear?

‘I know, I know you are seeing someone’ I concluded on her behalf.

Really, man, you are the most pathetic man I’ve ever seen, I didn’t even go shopping.’ Her trial to continue provoking me.

Then where were you? I asked over and over to just answer a fucking question but no straight answer to that.

‘What, what are you talking about? Are you out of your insane mind? I was on the rooftop the whole goddamn time, crying to my stars. I don’t deserve to be treated like this.’ She shouted as backfire.

I can’t take it, I said and sat down holding my head, taking deep breaths and she continued to cry louder and louder.

After a while, I spoke-

‘I can’t live with you and yes you don’t deserve all this, then why are we still together?

Sobbing she replied ‘So convenient for you to throw at my parent’s house at your will. I don’t have any home, I am caged with your insanity. My family has never seen your true face and they treat me as a villain for all you insane accusations.’

‘Just confess about your affair, I really want to know!’ I asked with strong seriousness.

She stared at me for few seconds and rushed upstairs to her room. I hear her closing the room from inside and crying aloud.

‘Jesus, Its 2 am. Stop crying!’ I shouted and kept looking at the door but the crying voice didn’t stop. I laid down on the floor, wondering how all this turned out to be, because of the dinner or from the newspaper or because I tried to use my mind. I am full of negativity and crap. She is my wife after all and we are two years down the line, too invested in it. I love this person somehow then why do I accuse her of being a cheat? How would I live without her, even for a day? I shouldn’t have made such a mess. I kept thinking about what happened but couldn’t find any resolution to it and fell asleep.

The next morning when I wake up at half past nine and the bags all packed waiting to leave me on the door, it’s not how it works out on the usual fights. I turned and saw her sitting next to me, dressed up with a resolute expression and falling tears.

‘I am sorry, I don’t want any of what happened last night and I don’t want you to leave, it was all due to that damn newspaper article that made me question your loyalty. But she kept her glances watching in the space like finding my ghost, holding her silence with a sorrow of dying faith in me, I gently touched her hand which bought back her attention. She looked at me and said with a heavy voice ‘Please drink this last tea I made.’ You don’t want me to talk, I said and she nodded no with a tear falling from her eyes. I picked up the cup, not finding the right words to speak and took a sip of the tea she prepared.

‘The tea is very good. I want to have it all my life.’ I said in admiration but she started crying heavily without saying a word. I touched her shoulder and tried to hug her but she stopped me. I felt like the worst person on earth to make this day happen.

She kept looking at me and after a while spoke with her heavy sad sobbing voice ‘I want you to say me goodbye.’

‘No please don’t go, I want you to stay. I am a not a bad person, I just don’t have any hold on my thoughts and my words.’ I said with guilt and a huge pain in my chest.

‘I am not leaving you but you are leaving me.’ Her words went through me and I couldn’t understand what she meant.

With much more confidence in her voice she said it again ‘I couldn’t do this anymore, I can’t pretend it anymore, I don’t love you and I had never loved you.’ Her expressions transferring from sad to angry.

‘Don’t say that, I know you don’t mean it, I love you and I always had. Please don’t do this.’ I said pleading.

‘No I don’t love you, I want to be with someone else.’ She exclaimed!

‘This is not true.’ I said in disbelief, not trusting her words thinking she might be making it all up to make me believe in my own stories. The pain kept growing in my chest and my head started hurting.

Someone else decided my life, maybe not directly but yes they do put a stamp on our forehead, ‘sold to a stable rich writer, who they think can take care of me, my needs and my entire life. All I am expected to do is to lead my life the way, he wants. Like a toy, he can play with my body and I am expected to wash his sinful depression in taking the blame of not serving him completely. I am expected to work as a half servant and a half slut my entire life. Why? Because if this rich intelligent writer won’t protect me, if he won’t lead his merciful generosity, I won’t be able to survive in this world for a single day? She watched my shocked painful expression. Angry was like burning her body.

I couldn’t help a severe headache making me unable to argue but with a firm voice, I replied. ‘I don’t want to see your face ever, you should leave, now!’ I an still wasn’t sure if it was really true or she was just torturing me

‘Yes, you won’t see my face in this life ever again, you are not the only thoughtful person in this world. ’ She replied with equal fairness standing taller in taking revenge.

In my low painful voice, every alphabet becoming difficult to utter I said ‘What are you saying?’

‘The bags there. You must have not noticed, but they are not mine, it’s yours with your books and clothes in it! You tried to kill me with a poisoned tea. You wanted to run away but you being you, trying to rush your fear, drank it yourself. That is what I will say when you are gone.