The dragging of the violin cords served as background music of the white-sheet dining establishment, patroned by men in suits and women dressed in the latest fashion wear to impress the other female guests. The oval-shaped crystal chandeliers illuminated the top half of the wooden wine racks, surrounding the venue.
Tucked away in a dimmed corner was Martin, dressed in his favourite dark blue blazer and matching pants. Usually, he wore a white-dotted blue tie, but on this occasion, he opted to unburden his neck and leave the top button unattached from a hole.
He glanced across the venue, his eyes landing on a couple in their late forties. The woman’s eyes sparkled as she smiled at her man, who led the conversation. She seemed mesmerised by his every word, desperately waiting to hear the next one.
While Martin admired them, a woman drifted across his view. She bent over and pecked his cheek. While bending over, she smiled at him and then wiped off a crumb on the corner of his lips.
“Hi,” she said.
Martin looked at Jolene and forcefully curled his lips to be polite. She sat across the table from him and apologised for being late. He knew that the apology was merely a formality to water down her tardiness, and he saw no point in wasting his energy in expressing his desire to tell her that he wished she would respect his time just once.
“How was your day?” asked Jolene.
“Busy.”
Staring at her husband for a few seconds after realising he was upset with her, Jolene attempted to subdue the possibility of conflict by telling him the details of her day, hoping that listening to her would make him forget about the way he felt.
Her strategy had the opposite effect. Martin craned his chin up slightly, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Jolene while she babbled on about the challenges and tasks she endured throughout the day. His exasperation simmered slowly as he thought about her ignoring his feelings and making the conversation about her.
While carefully considering the words to express himself, he caught every fifth or sixth word that Jolene spoke. Her words were meaningless to him. He focused solely on the best approach to broach his feelings.
As Jolene continued, Martin tilted his head to the side briefly and then looked at her, flashing a quick, condescending smile to disguise his disinterest in what she was saying.
The waiter stood beside them. Jolene ordered a glass of 1898 wine, and Martin requested a double Johnny Walker Blue on the rocks. He needed a stiff drink to prepare him for the impending bickering.
As the waiter walked away, Jolene resumed her strategy of preventing Martin from getting heavy matters off his chest. While she spoke, Martin swirled his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other. The heat of his exasperation increased, but he remained patient. He knew that she couldn’t keep up her momentum for the rest of the night. Eventually, she would be silent, and it would be his turn to talk.
The waiter brought the drinks. Jolene thanked the waiter and raised her glass as soon as he turned to walk away.
“To us,” she said.
Smirking, Martin clinked her glass, watching her take a sip. He slowly sipped his whiskey while looking at it. He knew his turn to speak had arrived, and he hesitated. Although feeling he made the right decision, Martin didn’t lack empathy. He considered Jolene’s reaction and how his confession would make her feel, which contributed to his delay in expressing it.
Throughout several months, he gave himself a chance to change his feelings, but his initial desire grew stronger over time.
Feeling a sense of urgency to break the silence, Jolene blurted out the first thing that came to her mind: her mother. She told Martin that she had spoken to her earlier in the day. As she proceeded to divulge the details, Martin raised his shoulders and blew out an inaudible breath. The last thing he wanted was to hear about his insufferable mother-in-law.
Growing impatient, Martin looked around the room to ensure that the waiter or anybody else would not interrupt them. The coast was clear.
As Jolene rattled off, he abruptly cut her off, raising his voice above hers as he said, “I want a divorce.”
Silence fell upon their table. Jolene felt as if everything around her had become still. Martin’s piercing gaze and heavy words had knocked the wind out of her chest. She stared at Martin, her lips slightly apart and her eyes wide open. She felt completely stiff, unable to move and incapable of comprehending the repercussions of Martin’s request.
A lump had developed in her throat, preventing her from speaking. Even if she could talk, she wouldn’t know what to say. Martin’s words had snuck up on her out of the blue and left her completely flabbergasted. She knew he was unhappy in their marriage for some time, but she was unaware of the extent.
The first thought that popped into her mind was of him having an affair. She figured that his mistress was responsible for their lack of bedroom activity. She wanted to tell him that she would please him in any way he wanted, but her suggestion seemed irrelevant. Martin’s unwavering stance seemed impenetrable. Regardless of what she offered, it seemed that he was hell bent on getting a divorce.
Wanting to save her marriage and avoid a panic attack, Jolene managed to grasp a dose of oxygen and squeeze it into her chest, past the lump.
She said, “I don’t understand, sweety. Why are you saying this? I love you. I know we’ve had some problems, but surely that’s no reason to take things to this extreme?”
As she watched Martin part his lips, she dreaded his response. More than anything, she wished that his request were a cruel prank that he would make up for later at home by swooping her off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom.
TO BE CONTINUED…