The roses bloomed…

A month went by with no change in his behavior. She frequently reminded him of their chat and the deadline. He ignored the whole issue with either a witty remark or a silence depending upon the mood he was in. Her life now centered around her office, a place which gave her recognition, a sense of worth and of course the opportunity to talk to her new friend. These chats and emails had become the focal point of her life. They gave her the strength and resolution which she would have lacked on her own. Not that they discussed her personal life but she found a kindred spirit and it helped to know that at least one person in the world thought like she did.

Finally they met, she happened to have a meeting in his part of the city and could spare some time after it and he as frequently happened was alone, his family being with his in-laws. So they finally met on the last day of the year at a coffee shop filled with youngsters. The meeting was monumental and awkward at the same time. How do you introduce yourself to someone who is already privy to some of your deepest fears and wishes? It was difficult to start a conversation and she forwarded the flowers she had brought along for him, his favorites tuberoses and some half bloomed roses. He rummaged through his bag and dug out the single rose he had brought. Both sizing each other up not knowing exactly what to make of the flesh and blood embodiment of the voice that each had become accustomed to.

The much anticipated meeting ended and each went his own way with many a thought on what the other thought of him or her. She had to travel back to a get-together organized at a family friend’s place. She traveled there with his thoughts and his diaries for company.

Her husband who too had been invited had declined to come saying he had parties to attend at five star venues and couldn’t be bothered to attend her soiree. She bought some flowers for the hostess and accompanied by her mom went to the party. As she had anticipated everyone present enquired after her husband’s absence and some even volunteered good naturedly to call him up again. She tried to refuse as politely as possible. How was she to tell these well meaning people that her husband didn’t find their company good enough and a waste of time? He would rather be networking with people who would in some manner help increase his means of earning money.

One gentleman, husband of an old friend of her mom wouldn’t take her refusal and assuming it was just a tiff between husband and wife took it upon himself to make the call. She dreaded how drunk her husband would be and what he might say to snub the gentleman. Thankfully the call was uneventful he just said that he had prior commitments and would not be able to come.

She sat in a corner nursing her drink immersed in the pages of the old diary. It seemed like her own longings and feelings put into words by another in another time and space. It was eerie, unreal and she couldn’t let go until her mom came to take it away and admonish in a low voice about her neglecting her duty of lending a hand with the arrangements.

She got up to go and do as told when her phone rang, it was her husband calling. She picked the call to hear herself called ungrateful, unthinking and a few other names. His slurred voice evidence of the amount of alcohol that had already been consumed. Her request to stop drinking was met with further abuse. When she said in the most normal voice she could muster that she didn’t know what she had done, he blurted out that he was sitting at home drinking alone while she was enjoying herself at a party. She told him that she had asked him to come and he was the one who had refused.

The ranting continued while she tried to escape to the balcony so that her conversation would not become public. If there was one thing she hated it was to discuss her marital problems with anyone. After hearing him out till he couldn’t speak anymore having drunk so much she was finally rewarded with silence. She stood thinking in the balcony about the life she led and she almost laughed at the picture her acquaintances carried of her happy situation. Both spouse earning with no responsibilities of either parents or children, an independent well kept house, on the face of it she lacked for nothing. How deceptive things could be.

She wondered what the New Year would bring her way, yet again she sent up a prayer that good sense would prevail on her husband and he would mend his ways. The next day she went home early wondering what reception she would get. She brought some flowers on the way hoping that presenting them would put her husband in a slightly better mood. He opened the door, reeking of last nights excesses, pulled her in and raped her on the front hall sofa, tearing her skirt in the process.

When she finally got up from the floor her flowers lay scattered all across. She gathered them up and salvaged the better ones as her husband looked on with a pleased look. She didn’t know what to say about this fresh brutality and wondered yet again if this is what marriages are made of and if so why did people look forward to them so much.

She reached office the following day as usual to find a beautiful piece of verse in her mailbox and the message that the roses had bloomed.