Underwater

Ronald and his wife fought a lot. Sure, Amelia would laughingly call it a 'silly argument' or 'a difference of opinion' the next day, it couldn't deny the fact that the previous night had been ugly.

Ronald wasn't...an 'alpha male,' so to speak. He was a nice man; with all the good manners you'd expect from one. He didn't smoke or drink and didn't stay out late after work. His co-workers called him Reticent Ronald for this very reason. And he couldn't blame them, for from their point of view, here was a guy who didn't like company, barely spoke, never laughed, and took no days off. Ronald feared that in private, they called him Repugnant Ronald. "He's no man!" they'd say.

"You're barely a man, Ronald." Just like his wife does.

It was three a.m. now. Ronald slouched on his couch, absolutely wasted. He'd come from work at nine, as usual, kissed his kids goodnight by ten. But he lay and lay and lay on the bed beside his wife, but sleep didn't come. He'd like to think it was because of the horrendous water bed his wife made him buy recently, or because of the banter they had the last week. But it wasn't. He was accustomed to the bed by now, no matter how much he detested it, and all their fights seemed to blend into each other so much that he didn't care to keep up with them.

No, what really kept him up were the bags out in the porch, packed and ready to go.

He couldn't help it. Ronald got out of his bed and wandered out, silently closing the door of his room. He had a huge decision to make soon, today, now.

By twelve a.m., he'd had enough drinks already, that his mind was, literally, constantly abuzz. He couldn't make head or tail of his thoughts, but he knew he wanted to float for a while. Before the inevitable. And then, the thoughts started clearing up.

"You're a darling, Ron. Don't ever change."

First, it came as whispers in his mind. Like a dull echo from far away. Until slowly, it started to morph into something much more comprehensible. The words amplified, until all he could hear was darling, Ron, don't change.

By one a.m., his mind was occupied by Sally Clarke.

New girl at Accounts, very pretty, too talkative. In the beginning, to Ronald, she was just another girl hungry for attention. She grabbed coffee for everyone in the morning, chatted everyone up and talked animatedly. It annoyed Ronald to no ends how easy-going she was.

"Why do you keep following me around?" 

Sally had looked like a deer caught in headlights, "Uh, I do not."

It was only days later when they had both stayed back to work overtime that she had confessed how much he intrigued her.

Ronald closed his eyes, reliving the memory as if it was just yesterday.

"You're a darling, Ron. Don't ever change."

He didn’t think he loved Sally; he was just infatuated with her. It was probably why he started seeing her on streets getting screamed on by big burly men. Until he realized it was real. Ronald didn’t give a minute to think, grabbed Sally’s hand and ran away as fast as he could.

“You ran! I really can’t believe it,” she had said, laughing.

“Huh?” Ronald had responded, out of breath.

“A more reckless man would have stayed to fight.”

“Well, you know what they call me,” Ronald had said, sheepishly.

Sally had looked at him with an indecipherable look in her eyes. Like…a sort of longing.

“You are a darling, Ron. Don’t ever change.”

While sitting in the dark, cold alley, Ronald had a strange thought—perhaps, it wasn’t just infatuation. He didn’t realise how close their faces were until Sally spoke.

"Your wife…" she had hesitated. But strangely, the image of Amelia's scowling face in his mind worked to push him harder, instead of shaking him out of his reverie. He wished to spite her, that is, if she even cared enough about him to see this as spite.

"Its okay." He said, and leaned in.

But that was then. Thinking back to it now, Ronald realized he never did it to spite Amelia. He never did hate her. He was just tired, exhausted. He didn’t remember when he started feeling this way. Perhaps, too long ago. He had loved Amelia at some point; he wouldn’t have married her otherwise.

He looked towards the door of his room. His room, where his wife slept. His wife, with whom he had imagined spending countless days to come.

By two a.m., he was reminiscing about Amelia Rosenheim.

Ronald had looked into her eyes that night, they twinkled like stars in the gloom of the night.

"Would you pluck the stars for me, Ronald?" She'd asked naughtily.

"They're too out of reach," Ronald bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter at her failed attempt at flirting.

"You're no fun!" Amelia had hit his arm, playfully.

Ronald took her face in his hands, it fit perfectly.

"Where am I to bring them from when you carry them in your eyes?"

He remembered how giddy he felt then. His constant thought being - I love this woman.

He couldn't recall the last time he had that thought. For ten years, all they had been doing was bicker and fight. It was easier in the beginning. They fought, had sex, and were okay by morning. And now...

Lovely Amelia felt like a thing from a different time altogether. Like she'd slipped through a wormhole into a different universe, and God decided to replace her with this hideous, venom-spitting one.

With the years, their fights started getting uglier, and Ronald’s torment, unbearable.

"Mark, Ava, off into your rooms you go, Daddy and I need to talk,” she’d said with forced calmness.

 "Really? Books?"

"What's wrong with books? They'll develop a healthy reading habit early on."

"What they need, my dear," she spit the word like it burned her mouth, "is for you to stop acting like a complete tool and buy them a bicycle each. That's what they want, and are too sweet to say."

"They're a little too young for—"

"Oh? Or are you a little too broke for it?"

Ronald had hung his head like a battered puppy.

"We aren't broke."

"Where did all the money go, anyway?" She said slowly, "I mean, it’s not like you even had to pay a single penny for this house either. My dad bought it for me."

Ronald was sure he had never felt as ashamed, as out of place ever in his life before, as he did then. He rushed out and the next thing he knew, he was in Sally's house. 'Leave her,' she'd said, 'you don't deserve it. Nobody does,' Sally whispered.

When Ronald had come back the next day, Amelia didn't ask him where he'd been all night.

Ronald looked between the door of his room and the one that lead outside, once more.

Perhaps, this was all a hazy dream, something he'd wake up from tomorrow. Perhaps, he is too drunk and will get killed while driving to Sally's and won't wake up tomorrow.

All Ronald knew was that he wanted, needed to escape this.

So, he penned a note down and slipped it under the now empty vodka bottle. He headed towards the door leading to his new future with a lone tear falling down his face.

"I guess the stars are too out of reach now.”