We are just over with a huge fight. Oh no, nothing important really. It’s a routine now. Every alternate Saturday evening – O as I have half days on Saturdays – so we go to see our… sorry my Psychiatrist, she takes some sessions where my wife puts across some really disturbing points and I end up reacting. Dr. Jonna – yeah well that’s her name, she somehow manages to suppress the fight and then it blasts back when we get out of her office and my wife suddenly thinks that she should drive the car since I am, you know, not very well today. Or something else. Reasons to start the fight are petty. Fight however gets pretty big. She thinks my hallucinations are the reason for my insomnia. I think there are no hallucinations. You know what I think sometimes that she has this tendency on missing on things and when she realizes she missed something important she would just flip on me and tell me that she had asked me to do so and so and I forgot. Or I did not listen. I know that moment there she is lying and it’s just so sickening. It’s like a teenager trying to convince her father. I am not your father damn it. I won’t ground you even if you missed something. But saying that you told me and I drew a complete different meaning or saying that I wasn’t even there listening – sounds shitty to me. Anyways, it’s just my words against her. Maybe some of you would like to believe her more.
It is late evening by the time we reach home. “What a wonderful way to destroy Saturday evenings!” I utter in great despair wanting for her to overhear and react. She doesn’t. I take a beer can out of the refrigerator and “Can you please not do that!” there she is. You can never predict what she could react on. “What my evening is all ruined – and I am not entitled to a drink?” I give her a look. She looks at me for five second straight – dramatic! Shows her palms – real dramatic! “You know what! You can!” stretches her lips in some weird smile and leaves the dining room. I try to ignore her and start drinking. But it’s gone. I throw the beer can and walk away.
We are having supper, silently. “Nice steaks!” I try to start a conversation. She did not even look at me. How hard could it be to say thanks… or so much as smile? But that’s Cesi. And then she would tell me that I never said that the steaks were nice or of course she replied but I was too busy in my world to notice. I don’t understand this lady. No, actually I don’t understand myself. Why did I fall in love with her? I mean honestly I have no answer to this question. A five year old relationship, we got married and Six years to our marriage and I have no answer to this question. I don’t remember how she looked back then. I don’t remember how she used to talk without annoying me. I don’t remember seeing her and feeling – the one feeling that makes you marry someone. I remember nothing. “Will you please clear your dish after you are done? I have done the rest.” Cesi’s voice brought me back to my plate where a full steak piece is lying teasing me. “Did you put another?” I am irritated. She has this weird want of making people eat beyond their stomach. If you say she cooked well – she would kill you with food. So she did acknowledge what I said before. “Please eat well!” she said with a smile in reply but it totally felt like ‘I am not interested in another fight with you!’ I wish she wasn’t this.
I cleared up my dishes, switched the extra glittering lights off and went to my bedroom. Cesi is dead sleep. Or she is pretending to. Her eyelids are stitched together as if trying to sleep or more like trying to convince her that she is slept. She is wearing a light cream colored loose shirt. She looks calm. And pretty, other than the slightly dark swelled up circles beneath her eyes. And little loose skin around her neck. I want to touch her skin. But I am afraid that she will wake up and I have to listen to her streaky voice asking me to sleep well. But the pulpy skin around her neck scares me a little. I see myself in the mirror. I am three years older than her. But I don’t have any loose skin stringing around me. I am happy for myself this moment. Concerned a little my wife, still kind of happy about myself. I feel guilty. About feeling happy. Do I really not like her so much? I look at her again. I see wrinkles around her lips. Soft wrinkles. Baby wrinkles that will grow bigger in time. I feel disgusting, about what – I don’t know. I need some air. I grab my jacket, my car keys and rush through the door.
I am driving to the beach. Forty five minutes from my place. No so much of a beach but like a stretch of water with a couple of very small stalls build by side of it. We used to go there all the time when we were young. Even after marriage. For few years. I still go sometimes. I bet Cesi does too. Not with me anymore though. I pulled the car window down. A swift cold breeze ran into my left ear. My thoughts flew away quick and stealthily. I can see the thin silver line of the beach. I stop my car.
Walking on the side of water line. Beer crate in my hand. Small waves jumping on my feet, sweeping me off my thoughts, sweeping me away from my problems, from my worries, from insomnia. I am feeling sweetish sleep. It the most wonderful feeling lately. Knowing that you are about to sleep. Knowing that you are feeling sleepy without taking any pills. The cool wind is brushing through my bare chest through unbuttoned shirt. I feel cold – but good cold. I see the small food stalls glittering at distance. I feel hungry, for prawns. I walk to the small stall.
I see her. She is sitting on the sand near the stall, her legs crossed, her wavy light blue dress floating and tapping on ground as if at the beats of the ocean waves. Her thin white soft hands look like pretty white laces flowing from then light blue sleeveless dress of hers… She is looking at the waves in a continuum. The dim stall light is making her brown wave like hair glitter softly. She is sitting fearless, unaware of the world around, sipping her drink from a large cheap plastic glass. She is so young, so little, so free. I want to sit beside her.
I am sitting next to her. ‘Hi’ I think I must have said, for she turned to me. She didn’t stretch a friendly smile, she didn’t look away too though. She felt too known to stretch any gesture to me. A pair of fresh blue eyes looking straight into me, I was looking back, I saw a tiny nose, I saw small red lips, slightly open like a small butterfly, ready to fly. I suddenly wanted to kiss those lips. She must be younger to me – like ten years or may be more. She is a kid to me. I feel bad about myself. Her eyes don’t let me feel bad. They contain life in them. They are so beautiful. I feel I have known these eyes forever. ‘I know you from somewhere” I say to her. She laughs at me like a proud kid “Like in your dreams?” I laugh with her. She leans forward. I feel wrong. But I don’t stop her. She asks frank, “You want to kiss me?” I don’t know what to reply. “Go ahead.” she gives an unexpected reply. “I am married you know.” I try to give the mature man smile. She laughs again, “But aint I so much prettier than you wife.” “That’s because you are young, she is older than you. She has wrinkles of age and stress” I don’t really know where I am getting my replies from. “But you don’t have any?” she asks soft and honest. She leans back, I am looking at her butterfly lips again. Ready to fly. I don’t have dark circle below my eyes, I don’t have wrinkles like my wife. I feel pity. Like on a wet little rabbit, who tries so many things to come out of the cage but it’s just not enough. He still tries. My wife, trying so many things.
I am feeling the breeze on my bare chest. I take a sip of beer. The pretty butterfly lips girl is still sitting by my side. I feel her fingers surfing through my hair. “You okay baby?” I hear her whispering… “Why you sitting here?” I am sitting in my dining hall. She switches on the heater for the room. “It’s too cold in here.” she is still talking to me. I don’t know why I am sitting here – I think. She sits near my feet on the ground. “Where’d you get this picture from? It so old? Our first date, remember?” She smiles gently. Like a proud little girl who has grown mature. I look at the picture in my hand, It’s Cesi’s, she was on the beach, light blue flowing dress, sparking blue eyes, with no circles below them, tiny nose, and red lips, slightly open like a butterfly.. Ready to fly. I look at Cesi, She has put a blanket on me, and she is rubbing my arms with her lace like hands… with little loose skin. I hold her close… I hold her in long long time. She gets held without refusal, without admittance. “It’ll be okay… I’ll be okay Cesi.” She looks at me with eyes in tears, butterfly lips stretched in a smiles. It was the first time I told her that. “We’ll be okay…” she closes her eyes on my shoulder.