Thelma and Alec

Alec and Thelma, married for seven years, sit in exhaustion amongst the boxes and detritus that is the sum of their lives. They lean back against their floral sofa, legs extended, one hand holding an icy bottle of beer, weariness writ upon their features.

“My love, tomorrow is my first day at the new job and since you know how much I wish to make a fantastic first impression, I’m snookered.” Alec plants a kiss on the top of Thelma’s copper curls. “Good night, my love.” Thelma sips her beer, turning to watch Alec pad across the hardwood under the square arch towards the stairs. His footsteps echo through the bare house then cease leaving silence as Thelma’s only companion.

Sitting up, her green eyes survey the scene, taking in the chaos, the clutter, the chores yet to be done, that await her attention throughout the next days. Her head shakes at all of the changes fraught by this move. On one hand, Alec starts a new job at a higher level of responsibility and remuneration. On the other side, Thalma finds herself between work, but with time for that unwritten novel. Her face reflects her ambivalence. Stifling a yawn, up she stretches, carrying the bottles to the kitchen, setting the breakfast table, before clicking off the lights and following Alec to bed.

In her dreams spiders capture her in their webs, sucking out her bodily liquids, leaving her but a dry husk tossed by the breezes. Morning announces itself with chirping birds and speckled sunny shadows. Where Alec leaps from bed, energy pulsing, Thelma drags herself to sit dark bags adorning her eyes. 

While Alec showers, shaves and transforms himself into Mr. Morrison, Thelma enjoys sipping coffee, bopping along with the radio tunes while doing her Harriet moment at the stove. 

“Mmm, something smells delicious. Wow. This is spectacular, my love,” Thelma’s heart thumps at his brilliant smile, taking in the breakfast splendour. After this, Alec dives headfirst into his iPhone while his fork empties his plate. Shoving away from the table, Alec strides up the stairs, polishes his teeth, adjusts his tie, shoves his arms into his blazer and whoosh — throws a kiss, grabs his case, out the door, down the drive, off to the bright lights of corporate culture. 

Thelma sits down, slumping over her mug. Wherever her eyes travel, she sees disorder to order. Alec hadn’t even put his plate, cutlery, cup in the sink as he has done, up until now, every day for seven years. Even their marriage frays at the seams following this move. A tiny teat escapes from her eye, shimmering down her cheek, landing onto her hand. 

***

As Thelma steps out of the shower, the front door slams shut. Towelling off she relishes the nubby texture kneading her skin. She jumps back when the bathroom door flies open. Alec stands in the doorway, hands on his hips, with deep crimson cheeks. 

“So what did the lady of leisure do all day while I was away paying our way?”

Thelma’s eyes widened, her lips pursed. Without a word, she slides past Alec walking into their bedroom. Alec’s footsteps thump behind her. Although her back faces Alec, she feels the heat of his gaze. 

“So you’re NOT going to answer me!”

Dressed, Thelma skirts around Alec, tip-toeing down the stairs to the kitchen, pouring a generous glass of Pinot Grigio before beginning prep for dinner. Flicking on music, she moves in synchronicity with the beat, her cooking choreographed to the beat. 

Laying the table in the dining room tapers lit, this room glows with warmth and welcome. Her face brightens looking around this unpacked room.

“Alec, dinner is being plated.”

Steam surrounds the plates, delicious aromas tempting. Thelma sits alone at the table. 

“Alec, dinner’s served. I’m starting.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Thelma sips her wine, picks up her fork, piercing a broccoli floret. Stomping steps announce Alec’s arrival. Thelma savours her meal seemingly oblivious to Alec’s sigh and harrumphs. 

As the final morsel of food vanishes, Thelma places her cutlery with care on her plate, lifting her eyes toward Alec. 

“So Alec, what’s up?”

Stony silence is his response.

“All done?”

Alec’s head bobs up and down.

Nesting the plates, grouping the cutler, Thelma slips from the room, busying herself with the post-dinner cleanup. Retracing her steps to the dining room, her left-hand grasps her empty goblet, which she refills and carries into the living room. Shoving aside a couple of boxes, she cozies into a sofa’s corner, pulling up her legs. A current novel awaits on the side-table. 

Wholly immersed in the fictional scenes, she shudders when Alec’s forms plops onto the couch by her side. 

“You are unbelievable!”

Laying the novel face down, Thelma swivels her head taking in Alec’s furrowed brow, thinned lips. 

“Alec, what’s up?”

“You.”

“How so”?”

“Thelma, you know how much I hate it when you do your counsellor thing on me.”

“Well, Alec, since I’m a kept woman, do tell me how you’d like me to be?”

“Jesus! Look at this house — what in God’s name did you do all day?”

“Alec, I filled my day as I chose. Some of my day was unpacking the dining room. One room per day unpacked is my goal. Otherwise, my time is my time just as your time is your time.”

Alec’s hands moulded into fists, white spots on his face. 

“Thelma, I can’t work all day and then come home and have to do a second shift.”

“Do tell, m Alec. THAT is the reality of working women worldwide. Welcome to this club.”

“We moved here for my new job. You agreed.”

“Yes, I did. I thought this move was what you wanted. That’s why I agreed to take a hiatus from my career, to carve time for my novel, to be more of a homebody than I ever dreamed I would be.”

“Thelma, you know how much I wanted this move, this new start, this new to us house, So far, I don’t think this experiment is working.”

Thelma’s face shone with her smile. Her hand snuggled into Alec’s. Her head nuzzled his neck.