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- 08/30/2011
- 667 Words
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- 21 Comments
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Blossoms on our peach tree - 1. Blossoms on our peach tree
There are blossoms on our peach tree and the breeze is warm. Pink blossoms announce the arrival of spring and Sal is in the house instead of in the garden enjoying the first warm rays of a welcome summer. I could call him, but he won’t come. Our relationship isn’t what it used to be. It’s on the collapse, he knows it, and I know it. Blame him. He’s the one who compromised everything we had built together.
I see him sitting up on the bed. Staring out at me. He doesn’t see me like before. I’m not the young boerseun (farmer’s son) whom he seduced twenty years earlier. I see my reflection in the window. It’s a paunch where a flat belly should be. It’s a sharp face, and blonde to grey hair in need of a haircut. I needed the freedom. Now’s the time. My time.
Yesterday was our time.
Amazing how destiny can change in a few hours. We’ve known each other twenty two years. Twenty of them in a relationship. We got married two years ago when the laws changed in our favour. At first we were wrapped up in our own little world of discovery. Then Ockert arrived.
I’ve known about Ockert for almost a year now. One evening, at a Bears social, he introduced himself to both of us. A strong personality. Dark hair, fairly large belly and tons of hair, from his head down to his toes.
‘I see you’ve friended Ockert on Facebook.’ I prodded one evening about six months back.
‘He friended me.’ His reply was deadpan, like who am I to enquire?
‘Is that all it is?’
‘You’re not going to start with me again over shit, Barry.’
‘Nope. Just enquiring.’
One time I found him talking to Ockert on his cell phone. Outside, in this garden. He spoke in a low whisper and I could just make out a couple of words. Meeting…Sandton City…Tuesday…lunch.
I wanted to be sick.
I had given him everything. Bladibla. It’s true though. I will take nothing back. But I digress. Tuesday last week was a fairly sunny winter’s day. I followed Sal at a distance, and parked some time after he had locked his door. They met at Swagger’s, and from there they booked into a Formula One hotel for a couple of hours.
I didn’t say a word. Over the years trust has been crushed, rebuilt, earned and crushed again.
Last night he gave me the bad news.
I took his plate off the table and placed it in the kitchen sink. He followed me into the kitchen.
‘I think we need to talk.’ He said, retrieving two cups for coffee.
I remained silent. I knew what was coming. The end.
‘I mean, ‘ he stammered. ‘Tonight, at dinner. We didn’t say two words to each other. Did you notice? Were you comfortable with that?’
I continued to wash the dishes. His words rang in my ears.
‘Well, I’m not comfortable. I think we’ve been living a lie these last couple of years.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’ I asked.
‘Separate.Divorce.’ He said, pouring water into the kettle.
I cringed.
‘Has this got something to do with Ockert?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, I won’t stop you, Sal. You don’t need my blessing. Although I must say I should have seen this coming.’
‘I can see we’re leading into a row. I don’t want a row. I’m done with arguing.’
‘No. No arguing. You do what you must, Sal. I’ll do what I must.’
He retired to the bedroom where I heard him packing and stomping around. The bed creaked when he got onto it.
He’s been there ever since.
Hasn’t moved.
Stares at me all the time.
Unblinking.
I placed the 10 pound hammer under a tap of hot running water and washed my bloody hands. I wondered if he’d ever speak to me again. The garden needs attention.
Spring is here. A new beginning.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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