Frankly Told: Happy Wife Happy…
The room was momentarily spotted with the sound of utensils on porcelain. A brief laughter punctuated the end of a conversation and the ladies left the room to the two gentlemen.
From the kitchen, they could hear the ladies carrying on with the conversation whilst there was silence in the living room. The older gentleman reached over the table and grabbed the toothpick dispenser. Plucking one out, he skillfully put it straight to work, prodding at whatever piece of food had jammed itself between his teeth.
“You know,” he huffed. “I couldn’t help but notice this air of weirdness between the two of you today.”
The younger of the two looked up from twiddling with the salt shaker.
“What do you mean?” he placed the salt shaker down.
“We have had lunch together for a while and today, there was some coldness in the air,” the old man leaned back in his seat, still going at it with the toothpick. “I have noted just how warm you are with each other and how you seem to finish each other’s thoughts or even laugh at jokes. I couldn’t help but notice.”
“Ah, yes,” his eye fell to the table. “Far be it for me to put anything past you.”
“Out with it then,” the older man gestured.
“Well,” he began. “There isn’t much. Just same old same old relationship issues.”
“Ah, I know that part,” the old man scoffed.
“Yeah,” he conceded.
“It doesn’t seem like she was aware of the tiff from where I am standing,” the old man pointed out.
“What do you mean?” he looked at his old man in the eyes.
“She was still as joyful and warm,” his words held the younger one like a prisoner. “Am I wrong to assume that the draught is coming from your side of the house?”
He sighed.
“Seems I struck gold,” the old man celebrated.
“I actually hate you,” he snidely threw.
“I’m only picking up what you are putting out, my boy,” the older man chuckled.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I guess… I just haven’t been too happy with her or in the relationship for a little over a week.”
“Oh that sounds miserable,” the old man exclaimed almost sarcastically.
“I can’t say it has been the smoothest ride,” he took no mind to the comment. “To put it generally, she did something and it’s something that I thought we had covered bases on before and it was agreed that she wouldn’t repeat it.”
“What is it that she did?” the old man inquired.
“I don’t think it matters,” he quipped. “It’s the principle. I think that is the thing that is grazing my skin deep. I think you as a man would understand… It’s not the action, it’s the principle. I don’t ask for much but the little I ask for should at least be respected, you get me?”
The older man simply nodded but maintained silence.
“When I found out she did it I almost lost it,” he continued. “I almost yelled but I thought, hey, that isn’t the right way about this. When I yell I know she will just shut down and she won’t listen. That is not the way to deal with this. If talking doesn’t work the only other way is silence. So I just kept quiet on it.”
“Has she noticed?” the old man stroked his chin.
“Not yet but I am pretty sure that soon she will,” the young man straightened his shoulders.
The older lady walked into the room with a tray; on it, a plate of cookies and small pieces of cake, a pot of tea and two teacups. On her face, she wore a smile as warm as the afternoon sun. She kept it on as she served them.
“Thank mum,” the younger man said as she stood to return to the kitchen.
The older man simply smiled as she gently caressed his arm from his fingers to his shoulder as she walked past. He picked up his teacup and gestured to his son before bringing it to his lips. A deep sip and an exhale of relief, he spoke.
“This is some fine tea,” the old man whispered. “I am the luckiest man ever.”
He looked at his father-in-law in wonder. Inside he could feel the boiling rage.
“Fix your face,” the older man ordered. “You are souring my enjoyment of this tea.”
“I’m sorry,” he started.
“There it is,” the old man jumped in. “Remember what I told you are some of the important phrases before you walked down that aisle and got yourself married?”
The young man scoffed.
“Allow me to continue the lesson on how to get through this marriage thing,” he grabbed a cookie, dunked it in the tea and bit into it with glee. “A silent slow puncture or a loud tyre burst, doesn’t matter… the car still has a wheel problem.”
“As you sit here,” he continued. “Steaming in your silent fire. This car called marriage will continue to drive down the road and what you are doing is selfishly hiding a problem you will have to tend to in a bit because it will start to show.”
“That’s exactly what I want to happen,” he spoke sharply. “I want her to see.”
“Then you are going about it all wrong,” the old man pointed his half-bitten treat at his son. “What the hell are you doing? This is your opportunity to communicate for the sake of the relationship.”
The young man sat in silence, yet his body language so blatantly opposed the old man’s advice.
“What do I know though?” the old man tossed the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “I only have forty-three years' worth of mistakes and reconciliations. You probably know better in your second year.”
“It’s exhausting to always be so selfless,” the young man sighed.
“Is it?” the old man asked rhetorically. “Maybe see it more a selfish endeavour, this selflessness.”
“Why must I always be the one to reach across the divide to make this work? I mean she seems quite happy being this way. Doesn’t even notice that I am upset but in my happiness, I must notice her unhappiness. It isn’t fair…” the young man lamented. “How can I take up space here when I am always the one who is giving and giving and giving and …?”
“Don’t believe any of that nonsense rhetoric that a happy wife, happy-”
“What are we talking about?” the ladies burst into the room.
“Ahem,” they cleared their throats. “Sports!”
