No World Left for Tomorrow

Well, for starters, you should visit the place that you never do- that’s the gym” he said, looking up from his wrinkled copy of “The Week”.

She stood there, the wet dish in her hand dripping soap suds onto her gloves into her sleeves.

“Well you asked,” he said, now getting pissed it was going to become an argument. She always had to do it, ask the question to which there was no right answer. And even if there was, she always found it so unconvincing or blatant. “Goddamn,” he mumbled and slammed down his magazine. “Here we go again.” As the tears started to roll down her face, it made him cringe more, somewhere inside.

In truth, he couldn’t bear to see her cry. Sometimes she used that as a weapon. But at that time, it just seemed that it did not matter to him much.

He walked to the TV, switched it on and shouted over a commercial for Baby wipes. This was all just a mistake. You want me to do, what you feel like doing, you want me to say, what you want to Hear. In truth, you just wanted a Dog, not a Husband.

She stared at the wall with glassy eyes. It just made him more angry.

Standing over the sink full of dishes, she touched the back of her hand to her forehead and turned away from him. He knew she was doing it so he couldn’t see her shiver and her eyes tearing.

It didn’t matter. He knew her well enough. Or that’s what he thought he did. He always had a way to look at life at a telescopic level, his rationality ruling over emotions or microcosm of feelings.

“Oh fuck this,” he said, knowing he’d never win. “What the hell am I supposed to say to you? How the hell do I get out of these ridiculous situations you set up? It’s like, all I want is some peace and quiet when I get home from work and you’re not happy unless there’s an argument.”

Next to his shoulder on a shelf was a Hummel figurine he’d bought her for their anniversary. He didn’t know why he threw it until after it shattered against the wall. He felt no better. He missed his whole life that he gave up and for what, he thought. He missed them all, his friends, his social life. His whole life hurt. It never stopped. Sometimes he could forget about it for a while. But it never went away completely. It left him helpless and hating the life that surrounded him.

She flinched at the sound of her breaking gift. It made him hate her more.

It was all about control. She was turning into a goddamned shrew and he was not going to be a mindless lump. He’d show her. He would not turn into a dog that she wanted for as her pet.

When she gasped, as if his words were punches, he knocked over the kitchenette table and she held her hands over her mouth.

He knew he would have to hit her if he stayed so he grabbed his car keys off the counter. Why the hell had he gotten married in the first place? It was the “buy the cow” scenario his best friend told him about that got him in to this mess. Now he was attached to someone who would never understand what he wanted in life and couldn’t help him get it.

It was a mistake. He’d fix it. There were people who understood him. There were things he enjoyed doing. There were things he resorted to for his escape.

He thought she would have hated it when he went there because he felt good there. She didn’t want him to do anything that made him happy.

He told her not to wait up for him. He told her she looked like a fucking scullery maid kneeling on the floor and crying, and what the hell did she think she was, Cinderella? And he was proud of himself for thinking of the analogy. At least one of the guys would find a way to laugh at that.

When he slammed the door and her sobbing faded behind the metal and wood what pissed him off most is he was sure she had no idea what a huge favor he was doing her by leaving.