A hot mist of scented vapours touched his jaw and wound their way around the curvatures of his face. Sweet plumes fanned out in front of him creating a thin white veil. Though through the blurry haze, he could just about make out the thin, gaunt silhouette of Gwen. She was staring him. That much was for sure. His head remained dipped, almost touching the heated broth as he hid behind the wafting barrier.
The soft lighting in the room gave off a peaceful aurora. Even more so by the swaying branches of the sycamore tree casting its hypnotic shadows upon the kitchen walls. Still looking as strong and beautiful as the day they had both moved in to this quaint semi-detached bungalow, the leaves would glisten and sparkle at the height of the sultry summer months. With a traditional, wooden slatted back porch overlooking the lush, sprawling backyard, it provided for a picturesque scene. Perfect for a couple very much in love.
His eyes moistened as he lifted his head ever so slightly, but enough to make eye contact. The dreadful, familiar pattern of a calm before the storm was looming.
“Conway, why are you not speaking, honey?” Gwen asked almost in a whisper. The tell-tale signs of an impending clash.
Drucker lifted his head over the steaming soup. “Nothing to say really.” he replied with a smile. His hands balled up into two fists under the table as he risked uttering those three words that contained such power as to ravage the entire evening altogether. But he was all out of choices. “Are you alright?”
She lowered her head whilst Drucker studied her at the opposite end of the table. “I think you already know the answer to that.” The fuse was lit.
“So why belittle me by asking me again?”. The anger surfaced within her quicker this time round, which caught him off guard somewhat. He decided to opt for the reasoned approach.
“Honey, do we really have to go through this routine again? If there’s a problem, can’t we just talk about it in a civil manner?” He played down the tone in his voice to reflect the pleading in his eyes.
“I see. So you call this a routine now, do you?” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“No. All I meant was…”
“I heard you the first time.” she interrupted. “No need to repeat yourself. It’s just good to know what you actually think of me and where I stand, that’s all.”
He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Do we have to do this again? Please, just one night of peace.” This last sentence stemmed from the frustration from planning the events of tomorrow, yet it was a mistaken slip of the tongue. It should have remained just a passing thought, nothing more. But it was too late for that now.
He felt the faint breeze of an object fly past his cheek. A second later, a loud crash somewhere behind him on the living room floor. Drucker leapt out of the chair in disbelief. He was greeted by a vision of Gwen, glowering over at him at the other end of the table and panting hard. “What in the hell is wrong with you? Have you gone crazy?” he shouted.
“Living with a son-of-a-bitch like you, who wouldn’t!” she retorted in wild abandon. “I mean, what more do you want from me? I’ve given you my life! I slave over a hot stove to prepare your meals, clean your filthy clothes, clean this forsaken house! God help me, I do it all and for what? For you to just sit there and not even try to converse while we eat! Just have you stuck in that bullshit office all day and leave me to rot in this hellhole we live in!” Warm tears streamed from red, vein-filled eyes as her version of the truth poured out like water from a river damn.
“Yeah, that’s right! My goddamn office! My job that you hate so much!” he fired back, lost in a rage of his own. “The same one that buys all our groceries, that pays for all the clothes we wear, that provides all the utensils needed to cook the damn food in the first place! Where would we be if I called it quits today, huh? Broke without a cent to our name, that’s where!” In all of his pent-up frustration, the pain of bringing out his own interpretation of truth ran deep. This, he recalled, was the first time he retaliated back this hard instead of simply storming out the house and finding a temporary solution to his problems at the bottom of a pint glass.
“Maybe that’s what we need? You thought of that?”, she screamed, pointing an unwavering finger at him. ”A fresh start. Pressing the reset button on everything. On our finances, our life together… Maybe even our love!”
@ezzy