2. Theo
TWO
THEO
“So, how was work?”
I clear my throat, fussing with my napkin as I dab my lip. “Um, good.”
Sitting across from me, Clara smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She gulps, looking around the dining room table, gesturing at the bouquet on the far end. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”
Yeah, well, they’re the least I can do for being such a crap husband.
“They were on sale,” I mumble, taking another bite of the chicken, she made. It’s a little dry, but I won’t tell her. “I know roses are your favorite.”
Something hard passes through her eyes, but it’s gone a second later. “Lilacs are my favorite, actually. We had them at our wedding. Don’t you remember?”
I remember little about our wedding, considering how much I drank that night. I know Clara looked beautiful, and the food was excellent, but apart from that it’s all a blur. Little insignificant details I didn’t care to pay attention to. At least that’s what Clara says. Apparently, I don’t take time to notice the little things she does, like the fact she got her hair cut a week ago, and I didn’t bother to comment on it.
“Sorry,” I say, reaching for my wine glass and taking a large gulp.
“So, did you hear we’re getting a new priest?” she offers, the topic feeling just as dry as her chicken.
I nod. “Yeah, Earl told me.” The General Store manager wouldn’t stop going on about it, almost as if there was a celebrity coming into town.
“Well, what do you think about it?” she presses, hand tightening around her fork.
“I think we’re getting a new priest.” Awkwardness settles around the table, just like it normally does every night at dinner. But feeling like I have to make an effort here, I clear my throat once again. “How was your visit with your mother?”
“Good,” she says quickly, chewing on her red lips as she looks at me nervously. “She asked me again about when we plan on having kids.”
Cautiously, I pick at my plate and speak. “And what did you tell her?”
“Soon.”
I clench my hands around my fork, resisting the urge to stab at the chicken. I take a deep breath and look back up at her. “I thought we were still discussing it.”
“What’s there to discuss?” she snaps, reaching for her glass of wine. “We’ve been married for five years. Don’t you think it’s time for kids?”
“I think I’m not ready,” I say through gritted teeth. “Like I tell you every time you bring it up.”
She sets her glass down and throws her hands in the air. “But when are you going to be ready?”
“I don’t know.”
“Theo.”
“Clara, I?—”
“Why don’t you want kids?” she screams, shooting up out of her seat, anger heating her face. “I’m not getting any younger, Theo. Now’s the time. When we got married, you said you wanted them. What’s stopping us?”
I don’t know how to answer that question because I don’t know the answer myself. Clara and I are both thirty, all her friends have children, and it just seems like the next natural progression for a married couple. But something’s holding me back, and I hate the fact I can’t articulate what it is. Clara’s beautiful, a kind person and she’d be a terrific mother, but the thought of having babies with her? It sends me on an inner spiral that has me dry heaving over the toilet.
“Let’s just finish dinner,” I say, gesturing for her to get back in her seat. “You made a great chicken for us.”
“It’s dry as fuck and you know it,” she spits. She looks like she wants to say something else but holds back. That’s what our marriage has been for the last couple of years, a litany of words we keep to ourselves, secrets and doubts we only think in the dusk hours when we’re alone.
At what point did this happen to us? When does such a big chasm divide a couple? When did we become two people that simply coexist, mindlessly hovering around each other like zombies? Everything is so routine, so… boring . We’ve taken trips together, done the same activities, experimented in the bedroom, and nothing. No matter what we do and no matter what we’ve tried, there’s just no excitement in our lives.
There’s no sex either, hasn’t been for at least a year.
“I’m going to my mother’s,” she states, walking away from the dinner table and to the entryway to get her coat.
Irritation prickles under my skin. “And when will you be back?”
“I’ll be back when I get back,” she snaps, putting on her coat like she’s angry at it for existing. “I swear, Theo. I’m getting tired of this.”
Yeah, me too.
I’m getting tired of tiptoeing in my own house around my own wife. I’m tired of this lackluster existence. I’m tired of sleep, work, eat, and repeat. I want something more from my life. I need it.
I look at Clara, really look at her, and that spark I felt when we met isn’t there. There’s love, sure, but it’s simmering at the surface, barely bubbling with heat. I want passion. I want to be so enthralled with her like I used to be that I can’t control myself. I desperately want that whirlwind we had when we were younger.
She leaves without another word, slamming the door shut behind her, and I’m left sitting alone. I find myself alone a lot these days, Clara preferring to spend time with her mother than with me.
I try to hold back, but I can’t. Tears spring in my eyes and fall down my cheeks. I sob into my hands, chest heaving, my heart feeling like it’s going to shatter under the pressure. I want… I want things to be the way they used to be. I want to turn back the clock and be twenty again, deliriously in love with my wife, and absolutely loving my life.
But I’m not twenty anymore, I’m moderately in love with my wife, and I guess I’m supposed to be content with my life.
Once again, I think of what I would do if I just left. Divorce is an ugly word, but I could do it. We could separate amicably, and I’d be free to live my life. But what kind of life would that be? I’d be alone, not that I’m not alone often now, but truly abandoned. I have no family besides Clara, I have no friends besides hers. My life completely revolves around my marriage, and I’d be nothing without it. I’d rather stay and try to work through it than risk going out on my own.
So, I just have to try harder. I have to be better. Maybe with some patience, things will go back to the way they were.
For the sake of my crumbling marriage and myself.