The Incident

The tomato sauce from my baked beans that I had for breakfast was starting to dry up on the side of my plate. We had not said anything to each other for at least an hour. I was starting to get uncomfortable on my seat.

He kept looking outside not paying much attention to what was going on inside or at me. I looked at the view outside the window from the kitchen nook. It was nice and sunny outside. The sea was calm and a soft breeze kept coming in and out of the coastline.

This has to stop I thought to myself. I gave a sigh to maybe break his thoughts from where ever they might be. He did not make a sound. I shifted myself on my seat my bottom was going numb from sitting for so long. The ticking off the clock on the wall by the kitchen archway was starting to get on my nerves.

Why isn’t he saying anything I was screaming in my own thoughts, the things I could be doing right now. I could be making the bedside upstairs. Throwing out the rubbish, waking up Molly from her breakfast, and take the dog for a walk on the beach. But no, I am stuck with him saying nothing to me nor has he even looked at me.

Once again I gave the view another look maybe there was something that caught his attention for the last hour and a half that might interest me also for the next hour or two. But there was nothing to keep me at ease. So I looked at him, the freckles on his face, his ginger hair, his nose. He was still so beautiful to look at, for me anyway. He was still the same man I fell in love with not so many years ago. Molly is two, so I have been married to this “not speaking” man for two years, two months, and nine days.

He was not always like this. He does talk, he used to talk a lot, but recently he does not say much to me anymore. I used to know that he loves me. I used to think he was attracted to me. The marriage we have is not exactly how either of us expected it to be. I know some of the blame is on me. I should have shown more, and given more to him. I should have cared about the other woman before we got married. I should have said something when that other woman reappeared a year ago, and I know I should have done something when I saw him with that other women three months back.

So, what should I say? What should I do? Was it really careless of me to let him do as he pleased even though I was his wife and he had a family? I did not care back then, and I still do not seem to care about it even until now. I love him. I love our daughter, Molly, is heaven sent, she is an angel. I still love him despite the things I know about him and the other woman. I love the family and the home we have built together despite that other woman.

Should I have really cared? Should I have paid more attention? Should I have proven my love to him more? I do not know. I am not an expert on these things - marriage, love, family, husband and wife, and other women. All I know is that I want to keep all that I have, my daughter, my home, my dog, my car, my career, my family, my marriage, and my husband. He thinks I do not care, he thinks I do not love him enough. He thinks I do not give a damn about our marriage.

Would we be here at his grandmother’s cottage taking this long holiday to get away from everything else that was bothering us in the city if I really did not care? Whose idea was it to take this break? Mine!

Finally, I gave another long sigh of boredom. This got his attention and he gave me a glance from the side of his eyes. I smiled at him, hoping he would turn his head and face me. He drew in a deep breath and faced me. Still saying nothing we looked at each other. He was looking straight into my eyes. I was feeling shy - awkward, I blushed and I bowed my head down to look at my plate. I bit my lip to hide some of the relief, and a sense of warmth of happiness running inside of me. I fidgeted on the metallic rim of the table avoiding to look back up at him. I tried looking at him again I saw his beautiful bright blue eyes. His luscious red lips, and his white teeth shining at me.

How beautiful he looked under the morning sunlight! I wanted to grab him and kiss him right there does not matter if Molly would walk in on us. I wanted him. Sadly, that would not be possible. Showing him any sort of affection would be wrong, not entirely wrong to say, but uncomfortable. I had not kissed my husband nor have I held his hands for almost a year. We have not made love to each other for the last eight months.

Oh! His lovely tight lipped smile of his was calling for me to do something irrational to him. Would it really irrational for me to want to make love to my husband right there and then at the breakfast table? No, but I would not do that. I would not know how to feel after nor would like know where to start.

Back when we first “fooled” around with each other it was a different story. We could not stand not seeing each other for even just one night. We could not even keep our hands off each other let alone our wanton lips. The kissing, the touching, the grabbing, the love-making seemed so endless back then.

I wanted all that again, with him. I wanted to feel passion, not just sex, but true romance like what we used to have four months before I found out I was with child, Molly. My heart used to race just the thought of him knocking on the bungalow door, and I quietly let him in to my room without letting the other girls I lived with know he was there. That first kiss we would have as I locked my bedroom door. How breathless I would get after each embrace. The satisfying feeling I would get after a night of good passionate sex and waking up in his arms and slowly letting him slip out the door trying not to let anyone notice his was there.

Was it really all gone? Could I really get that back again? Why did I let that all slip away? Was it really stupid of me to push him away? But I did not push away. I just step back from what was making him happy. The other woman made him happy, I know this. I gathered that with all the late nights he had with her he was getting laid and was satisfied and he has no need of me to do that. I even thought he might get revolted of me trying to persuade him to even touch an inch of my skin. Though, he never showed any disgust toward me. He had not said anything demeaning to me that might put us both off of sex.

So, it was all me. What if I did try to make a move right now? Would he respond to it? Would he respond to it in a good way? I would never want him to reject me. Maybe if I tried a little he might get the hint and his man instincts can do the rest. His hand was lying on the other side of the table. Should I go ahead and try to grab it?
I stroked the tip of his wedding ring finger. He did not seem to be bothered and he did not budge his hand away. I looked at him for any signs of reaction; he stared at my hand, and said nothing. I grabbed his hand and held it. He looked at me again; I smiled at him with the sense of relief. Then he started to wiggle himself out of his seat and he gently let go of my hand. He started saying something, but I could quite catch it as I was so taken back with what had just happened. My own husband has just rejected my gesture of affection by wanting to wash our dirty plates.

So, I am assuming he did not appreciate what just happened. I watched him as he moved towards the kitchen sink avoiding eye contact with me I gave him a half hearted smile. I remained seated on my seat I took another look outside just to ignore the running water, and to hide my disappointment with the situation. It was more the frustration. I had done nothing wrong, but it was killing me inside. Outside the sun was hiding behind the clouds that where moving slowly across the sky with the soft breeze pushing them ever so gently.

I started to wonder why the dog had not come down for its breakfast. He cannot still be sleeping at this time of the morning. I decided that it was time to leave the kitchen and do something else rather than sulk we’ll probably touch this issue later, before going to bed. I made my way out of the kitchen and out the back yard for a cigarette.

He no longer is my Jack. Not the Jack I met at the post office I thought to myself as I sucked in the smoke of my fag.