The day ends as usual. I can’t contain, restrain myself. ‘Get off my back. I’ll do the dishes when I’m ready,’ I snarl. Faye and I argue, come close to fisticuffs, seldom find pleasure at home any longer. Things began to sour months ago and now vinegar would be tasty. ‘What more can I do for god’s sake? You’re never satisfied so leave.’ My wife, the former joy of my life, slams the front door and actually leaves. Sally, Marc and Jeff, our three kids, are four, eight and twelve. We spaced them perfectly. Surely they heard the nightly battle and the slamming door.
On the sink are the unwashed dinner dishes, needing only a scraping, a rinse and trip to the dishwasher, but I am too exhausted to do it. Being criticized and beaten into worthlessness doesn’t sit well with me. My washing, ironing, fixing school lunches, going shopping, preparing meals, keeping everything moving smoothly is killing me. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep up. I want t o go to work again where it is easier than staying home. How can I look for it when I am a slave to a tyrant?
Faye does what she can to help with our financial situation. Perhaps foolishly, I suggested she contact her former boss and try to get a part time position. Since I came up with the brain storm, I would be a house husband. It didn’t look hard to me when Faye was the Madam. I rued my offering immediately and knew I should never have opened my big mouth.’
‘William, I’m home. What’s for dinner?’ What I had in mind was a mouthful of my fist, but answered softly, deliberately, ‘I fixed us a nice meat loaf with gravy galore. Gibby’s had a sale on bagged salad dressing so I bought two. ‘William, haven’t you ever noticed the children don’t like the bagged salad? I usually wash and dry a few leaves of lettuce, shave two or three carrots, chop a large tomato (Maryland if Gibby’s have them), add a small can of chick peas and top with a dollop of mayo. The enjoy it. You and I will have to eat a lot of salad before it gets limp. I’m going to get into something more comfortable. Down in fifteen. We can eat in the kitchen, if you like. It’s easier.’
Faye relaxes. I get more uptight than usual and take it out on our children. Grace hasn’t set the table yet so I have to do it. Betsy won’t let go of her cell phone. ‘Betsy, say goodbye now to whoever that is or it might be the last time you say the word.’ Betsy starts to cry and hangs on to Faye’s soft plaid sleep jammies. ‘William, stop being so mean to Betsy. Just ask her nicely to tell her friend she has to have dinner now. That shouldn’t be too hard for you to do. Is it?’
I’m hot under and over my collar, worn out from trying to keep the house from falling to pieces, helping with homework, vacuuming the carpet that doesn’t look dirty, I may have to–-? May have to what?
Faye loves her old job. Gets a raise after being back only one month. She bubbles over when we finally get to bed, can’t stop talking. I hear about D.J.’s clients, the multiple cases he handles in only one day. We are becoming not just strangers but enemies.
Television is my savior when the children are in school. I leave a chore for later to watch CNN without being interrupted with an argument. Dr. Edwards is being interviewed by Oprah. He’s a well known psychiatrist who is aware of the new roll being played by couples, called Switcheroo. Men are doing women’s work and women are having a great time in their new position as feminine men, not homos, just working people. It is a much bigger marriage problem than is known, it is a tornado of destruction. Dr. Edwards, takes a deep breath and goes on with a BUT exclamation point. There are ways to deal with this. ‘Husband’s get on line. Go to www.athomedad.org. It will teach you how to face and fix the knocks that try men’s souls. There is another site which can help you, www.marriagefixingtime.rnow. Williams jots down the sites and files the slip of paper in the trash can.
Faye isn’t blind, she isn’t deaf, isn’t stupid. Something has to change, get a lot better fast. ‘William, let’s get the children settled so we can talk. How about I fix us a snack with green tea and a hefty slice of the chocolate cake I brought home from the bakery?’ William doesn’t reply so she starts the pow wow. ‘William, I have talked to Mr. Stewart and have given notice I will work only on Mondays and Thursdays for a while. He surprised me and said they will work out a pay rate and I can start whenever I want. What I want is to be the home maker again so you can seriously look for a job you will like and make a decent living. It won’t be easy for any of us but we will manage. Want to give it a try? Saturdays and Sundays we’ll have our family, our used-to-be good times. It’s going to work. You can count on me. May I count on you?’
We go to bed and start practicing for the first time in many moons.
Both of us feel a little better and smile
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