Frankly Told: Childhood Dreams
The room was filled with the click-clacking of a mechanical keyboard. The walls were splattered with the blue glow of the computer monitor. He paused the typing mid-word and leaned back in his office chair with a deep stretch that made him softly moan in pleasure.
The sound of a key trying to fit into the lock broke the tranquil air. He waited until the key slid in and the lock dropped, before taking his next breath. The door opened, swinging in with force and she stumbled into the apartment. In her arms, she held a big bag of groceries. Balancing the bag on one arm, she attempted to swing her other arm behind her causing some oranges to fall out and roll out into the hall.
“Gaaaahh-” she exclaimed.
He swivelled enough not to crane his neck and tracked her with his eyes. She bent over to pick up the oranges with a sharp exhale. The orange incandescent light from the hallway highlighted her struggle and he watched in silent contempt. Finally managing to pull herself together, she flicked the switch and turned back into the studio apartment. They locked eyes and she gasped softly.
“No help?” She threw at him with half a teasing smile.
He sat in silence just looking at her. His fingers rapped on the plastic armrest. He pursed his lips but said nothing.
She sighed and took three steps to place the bag on the kitchen counter. The bag collapsed under its unbalanced weight distribution and the oranges tumbled out again, though they remained on the countertop.
“I get it, you are still mad at me,” she started, pulling out a few things from the bag and placing them on the counter.
He scoffed.
“Can we just…” she exhaled. “Okay, I’m cooking dinner, would you like to come help me?”
He turned back to his computer, tapped the spacebar key to turn it back on and started typing things away.
“Please, could you just…” she pushed.
“No,” he shot and stopped typing, his hands hovering over the keys.
“No?” she stopped in her movement to the sink. “No?”
“I am working,” he gestured to the computer and started typing again. “You finished your work. I haven’t.”
“I’ve had a very long day can we jus-” she pleaded.
“You’ve had a long day?” he stopped typing again. “Oh! You’ve had a long day? You think you are the only one who had a long day?”
“Here we go,” she spat.
“Here we-” his voice shuddered in anger. “Do you… I’ve had a long day too. A bloody long one! You don’t get to walk in here with this attitude like you are the only one-”
“Do not take that tone with me,” she cut him short.
“Raise my-? You just-” his volume dropped but his tone was still sharp. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You think you can have my whole life set out for me, huh? You think you know it all. You stomp everything down like you have the blueprint to life but you don’t!”
Her mouth opened as if to say something but shut once more. His body was turned fully in her direction, shoulders heaved up and down. His hands clenched into fists, fingers dug into his palms and his knuckles stretched white. Anger shook him to the core. Her eyes shifted focus between each of his. She stepped forward and he rolled the seat slightly back. His gaze fell away and she paused.
“Don’t come closer,” he spoke through his teeth.
Her shoulders dropped at the emotion behind his words.
“Baby,” she said.
“No!” he rejected. “I sat and listened to you berate me in the morning. It’s your turn to listen. I sat there and took all these pent-up frustrations you were harbouring toward me. I thought we were on the same team. You said you were okay holding things down whilst I got these things off the ground. I held it down when you were busy looking to make your own dreams come true. Why can you not do it for me?”
Her mouth twitched but no word rolled out past her lips. He sighed in frustration and dropped his face into his hands.
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry for wanting what’s best for you… for us,” she said. “I’m sorry for the way I said it. I still believe that this is something we need to take into consideration. We need to be able to handle so much that we are not doing well right now. We are barely making rent, these electricity bills are outrageous with all the power your dumb computer is sucking up…”
“Dumb?” he stuck.
“Sorry, wrong choice of word,” she raised her arms. “I just think that right now we need to pivot. I get it this is your dream that you are working on but reality is beating down on me right now and I am not sure that I can take it. It’s hard to hold this house up with just one income, much less what I am earning. It’s unfair for me to ask you to pause your dream right now but… honestly, I cannot take another ‘It’s going to come’, ‘when it comes’, ‘if things work out’. I… need you to wake up and be here with me.”
“You think I’m not tired either?” he asked with an accusing tone. “You just think I am up twenty hours a day having fun to make this ‘childish dream’ work. Do you know how hard it was to do the same in a place I hated? The hours I was pulling working two jobs to get you all the capital to start this thing of yours? How I’d get home to help you strategize even though I was running on fumes… because it was important to you.”
“I get it, maybe the pinch is a little bit more painful of late for you. I am not asking for a lot…” he pleaded. “Part of being an adult is knowing what needs to be prioritized. True. It’s also denying yourself for the good of so many things. It’s also at least getting the chance to aim for the dreams you had. I thought this relationship allowed for the space to... Y’know what?”
He sighed and turned off the monitor. Defeated, he stood to leave the apartment.
“Clearly, my things are just meant to remain childhood dreams.”
