Vows

Promises are suppose to last a long time, like the sky, the earth, and the ocean that most of us assume will last a long time.

Sometimes, though, a wedding vow does not last very long, much like an ice-cold beer, a vacation in the tropical islands, or a blooming red rose given on Valentine’s Day.

It seems to be forgotten after a short while.

“When did this begin?” she asks, sitting on their couch with him.

He looks at her as if he knows she wants to start a fight.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“It was probably last year.”

“About the time we thought I was pregnant?”

“Yes,” he answers meekly.

“I didn’t know you were like this!”

“It was suppose to be a secret.”

“How could it stay a secret if she sent you a text that I or anybody else could just read?”

He winces, as if she has stuck him in the arm with a sharp needle. She does not understand, he thinks. Nevertheless, he goes along with it.

“I didn’t know you would be snooping on my phone,” he says.

“Oh, I’ve been doing that for a very long time. At least since we’ve been married.”

It does not surprise him. He knew she was like this.

“Why don’t we talk about this some other time?” he asks.

“No. We’re going to talk about it right now. I’m very angry with you.”

“I really don’t think this is the time.”

“Well, why don’t we put it off until next week? Would that be convenient for you?”

“Uh-uh. I wish we didn’t have to discuss it at all.”

She turns off the television. She moves closer to him.

“We’re going to talk about it. And I’m going to find out who she is.”

“It’s someone you don’t know.”

‘Then I want to find out. You need to tell me.”

He tries to move away from her on their couch, but she moves even closer. They are almost face to face. He is afraid now. He thinks she will do something that both of them will regret later. After all, how well does he know her? They have been married for less than two years. Yet there are times when she still seems like a stranger. And he has never seen her like this. She says she is angry. He thinks she has gone mad.

“I’m going to bed,” he finally says.

“I’m going with you. We’ll talk about it there. We’ll talk about it wherever you want to go.”

“Then we’ll stay here.”

He starts to turn the television back on. She jerks the remote away from him.

“You’re not going to get out of this so easily.”

Let’s just forget about it for now. There’s plenty of time for us to discuss something like this.”

“The time is now. Do you think I look happy?”

She does not, of course. She does not look anything like the woman he had married. He can almost see the fumes coming from her. There really is no way for him to escape.

“I need a drink!” he says, and he gets off their couch as if the cushion he is sitting on is suddenly on fire. He hurries to the kitchen of their apartment and begins mixing a jigger of Jim Beam with Coke. He drops the ice cubes like torpedoes into the tall glass. His wife waits on their couch in the living room, knowing that he will have to come back.

He does not. He takes his glass into the bathroom and shuts the door. She is still in the living room, sure that there is no way for him to escape from her. While he is gone, she contemplates what she can to punish him. There are many options. She can curse him when he comes back. She can kick him out and make him sleep in his car. She can throw something at him, or even hit him with something. She can be a violent person.

When he returns, he tries to turn on the television again. She snatches the remote from him the way she did the last time.

“I love you,” he says submissively, if not sincerely.

She does not accept it.

“I don’t love you anymore,” she says.

“I made a mistake,” he replies, trying to sound more truthful.

“No, I’m not going to let you get away with this. I want to know who she is. I want you to tell me right now.”

He looks at her blankly. He does not seem to have an answer for her.

“You don’t know this person,” he says.

“I know everyone you know. Is it someone you work with? Is it someone I’ve met?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Then who is she?”

He is unable to answer.

“Do I know her?”

“No,” he simply says.

“Have I met her? she asks again.”

“No, you’ve never met this person.”

She is astounded. Surely, she knows who she is. She had to have met her sometime. Is she a stranger? She could be someone he met at a restaurant or in a bar. He could have run into her anywhere. She is becoming angrier.

“What is her name?”

He does not want to tell her.

If he tells her, what will she do? He is beginning to think she is capable of anything. Nothing can stop her. He fears what may happen.

Is he going to have to tell her the truth? He wonders, is there any way out of this predicament?”

“He’s John. That’s his name,” he finally confesses.

“John?” Is he serious? She had not expected this. But does it matter? He has been cheating on her. It does not matter to her whether the person is a woman or a man. She is angry. And she is becoming angrier than she was before he told her this.

“Do you plan to kill him?” he asks her.

She takes her time before she answers him. But she is sure of what she will do.

“I do.”