Happily ever after: that’s what marriage is. Well, they can have it; whoever they are. It’s given me debt, worries, and a fat prick of a husband who ignores me.
My children made this union worth it. My only regret is they are my only achievement. Now that they have left us, I miss having someone who looks at me as if I am the most important person in the world.
Kids love you from the instant they are born, and it never changes. It doesn’t matter that I missed their soccer game, or didn’t get a car for their sixteenth birthday. They know I love them and gave them the best life possible.
Once they were born, someone cranked the hands on the clock; every year time spun faster. Suddenly, my son walked across the stage accepting his diploma, and my beautiful daughter was greeting her husband at the altar.
Now, it’s this empty house. His house. The clutter seemed to close in on me, smothering me. I sought freedom and fresh air. Without them, it’s cavernous, vacant, and stale. Our lives immortalized in the pictures splattered throughout the house, a memorial to the happiness I once had. The curtains, a shroud, isolate me. Each day of retirement, a count-down to the holidays, family gatherings.
This year we are alone. Jack watches his football games, always. He calls this tradition. I call it avoidance. Retirement, the beginning of the rest of our lives is really the end.
The desperation of this realization consumes me, a tidal wave. I have to escape. The waves of regret chase me until I burst through the front door and stride down the steps. I need to think. I need more.
Walking through the crisp autumnal air, the realization that our lives, much like a fall night, are cold, brisk, and reek of decay settles in and chills me to the bone. We will not survive this new chapter.
I complete my lap around the block. It’s nearing ten o’clock. The glow of television sets cast onto lawns, and their light bounces playfully onto the sidewalk, only disturbed by my trudging footsteps.
Jack is sitting on the couch as I shrug off my jacket, hang in on the wall hook.
“What are we going to do Jack?” I plop next to him.
“What do you mean? We’re watching the football game,” he gestures towards the set. “Why would we want to do anything else?”
Jack, taking comfort in this consistency, grabs his bowl of popcorn from the coffee table, slouches into the couch, and rests his feet on the table. What a night, he thinks, no kids to disturb him, no fancy dinner, freedom.
“I knew it,” I growl, disrupting Jack’s revelry. “How could I be so stupid!?” I sigh, exasperated, I stand to face Jack. “After all this time, we finally have a life together, and you just sit here, watching football!?” I wait for a response.
Nothing.
He stares, blankly, from the television and back to me.
“Jack, there has to be something more, a purpose. Life cannot have just passed us by,” I croon, tears welling in my eyes, “You’re a corpse in front of that T.V.”
“Now, wait a damn minute, Marg”
“No! I can’t take this silence. I can’t take you ignoring me. Something has to change, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll…I’ll leave.” I nod, suddenly convinced of what I must do. “That’s it Jack, you have to choose. You need to make an effort to change, or I’ll leave!”
He stares at me, measuring my resolve. Maybe this is what he needs, just a kick in the ass to get him off that couch.
“Don’t bother, Marg….,” he says with ominous finality. “I’ve been thinking about his for a while, and I was hoping that if I just gave you time to yourself, you would realize that this moping wasn’t going to help anything.”
He pauses shaking his head, saddened that his life has come to this moment, “You are so miserable. I just can’t stand to be around you anymore. Don’t you get it!? Don’t you see!?”
I’m dumbfounded, frozen. What?
“I have been waiting for you to notice me sitting here, saving this spot next to me, so we could sit together like we used to.” He points to the couch expecting me to see…what?
He shakes his head, dejected. “You and I sat here, dreaming about the family we wanted. Then, we spent every night sitting here trying to stay awake, so we could enjoy a fleeting moment of peace after the kids were in bed.”
The tears burn down my cheeks. I swipe them from my eyes, my anger flares from this moment of weakness.
“Now, we are supposed to sit here and think about how great they turned out, look back and laugh at the good times, the mistakes.” He throws his hands up, giving in to my ignorance. “We made it but, all you want to do is be angry!” His rage a shocking, warning.
“Jack, I…”
He raises his hand, freezing me, “No, you’re right. I should have known. It’s always on to the next crisis. Why would now be any different?” He strides the front hall.
“Well, now you really can be all alone to wallow!” He shouts, with an exaggerated salute, rips his coats off the hook, and walks out the door.
I collapse on the couch, resting my head on the tattered paisley pillow. I should feel something, anything. That’s the most he’s said in years. I close my eyes with this thought in my head. For the first time in years, sleep comes easily.
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