Day after day he creeps through life. It wasn’t always so. There was a time when they held hands and spent hours talking and had loved without abandon. But the fire has long since died out in her eyes and a cold condescending glare has replaced it. Nothing he does is good enough. The house isn’t big enough, he doesn’t help with the kids, the car is too old. An undercurrent of repulsion swirls about her feet wherever she moves. He throws himself into work, buries himself. Tries to forget the rejection at home. Extra days, longer hours. It’s never enough, however. He comes home to a messy house and chaos. She hands him the baby as he crosses the threshold and pours herself the first gin and tonic. Later, as he attempts to gain peace in a book or the tube or even his writing, she’s right there over him, finger in his face. Scolds him like one of the children. His head sinks lower. He closes his eyes. In a desperate gamble to gain back all he’s lost, he endeavors to woo her again. Dinner dates, pretty rings, compliments galore, attempts intimacy. Each gift is received with scorn and a biting tongue. Each night she pushes him further away, pulling the blanket tight across her shoulders as she rolls away. He begins to lose confidence at work. He looks around himself and wonders how his life came to be this way and where did he go wrong? Then unexpectedly one day he meets Her. Not in person, no. Instead She is someone who he encounters online. She reads his works. Loves them. Neither of them is looking for anything other than a connection. But one comment leads to another and another. Emails. Texts. Phone calls. She soon fills all the places in his heart that his wife has forgotten existed. They make plans to rendezvous in person and, look, there he waits at the airport, holding a sign, a hotel key, and a bouquet of fragrant lilies…
tara caribou | ©️2018
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