Perish, the Thought
She was at her wit’s end, that’s what she thought, she liked comfortable cliches; they had a regular rhythm and the helped her feel safe. They were like a mother’s hug she decided, always there when you needed them, reliable and solid unlike her extremely annoying husband.
What had attracted her to him?
She really wanted to know. Thinking logically, she assumed it had been his generosity, he was old fashioned and never allowed her to pay for a drink or a meal. No wonder he was broke. Was he still generous, I should say so, buying rounds for friends at the pub, always treating the children and above all giving to crackpot charities like the Trussell Truss, Centrepoint and Crisis at Christmas.
He could barely keep the family in food, proper food.
He spent a fortune on expensive items, as though they were a family of four, just in case his sons came around with their girlfriends for a meal. The kitchen units were hanging off the wall and did he save? Of course not. He had no idea how much a kitchen costs, thousands and thousands. His job as a paramedic was never going to pay for that.
She wondered when she would be able to retire; she was fed up with working in an office for five days a week. A three-day week would work but then the whole family would collapse. They would be destitute. He really was a waste of space. Another hug from the cliché kitchen, served up hot from the oven of resentment.
“Men! Can’t live with them can’t live without him,” she said under her breath, realising too late that she was talking to herself, out loud.
She knew that was a sign of madness. She was mad, mad in the American sense of the word. Without her the whole fabric of their life would collapse, like a hot air balloon deprived of a gas flare. She was the light in the relationship. Everyone loved her. He just made terrible Dad jokes all the time. He sucked the atmosphere out of every family celebration with his coarseness and his drinking too much. She would be better off without him; she would have more financial security, more fun.
It had finally occurred to her. All she had to do was find the life insurance policy in her filing system and send him up that ladder to fix the guttering. It was so simple.
A story by Michael Fitzalan
