Carrots and Whine

“Marry me,” he whispers.1

The woman, who up until this point had been enjoying her weekend, chokes on her wine in surprise.  “Oh shit,” she thinks. “Why now?”2

She holds her glass tighter and realizes he is still looking at her.  She raises her eyes to meet his.  “Excuse me?”3

“Let’s get married.”  He is no longer whispering and she sees a needy look in his eyes that reminds her of puppies and small children.4

The woman smiles at him and places her wine beside the couch.  The glass must be set down because she is almost overwhelmed by a sudden desire to smash it over his head.5

“Look,” he begins, “I love you, you love me.” He starts to go on but she holds her hand up and shakes her head at him.  She gets up from the couch and walks to the fireplace, turning her back to him.6

There is no fire tonight but the woman remembers him a few weeks ago, drunk and mumbling about romance while trying to build a fire and doing nothing more than singeing his shirt.7

She thinks about a future in front of this fireplace and can see it clearly, too clearly.8

A child is running in circles around her legs while the woman is chopping vegetables for dinner.  The child, Claudette, is the spitting image of her father, right down to the neediness in her eyes.9

“Damn in, Claudette, I’m trying to get dinner ready.”10

The girl looks at her mother and runs into the living room.11

The mother glances at the fireplace, now cold and dark, and remembers standing in front of it five years ago contemplating this future.  He had seemed so sweet, so completely in love. How could she have known she’d grow apathetic?  How could she have known he’d need her input for even the simplest decisions, like how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the kid at lunch?  How could she have known, five years ago, she’d give up her life to be his domestic slave?12

She sighs and mutters to herself, “No one’s fault but my own.”13

Her husband walks in from work. “Ah, the love of my life,” he says in greeting.  He means it too.  The thought of her at home, raising his child, gets him through the long days of sorting mail at Cigna.14

She grimaces in return and watches him tackle the toddler in the living room, realizing, as she reaches for another carrot to chop, she has grown bitter.15

Questioning if she really loved him to begin with, she is aware she no longer even likes him.16

The woman thinks about the flowers he used to deliver to her at work.  She’d thought it was so sweet until the second week.  After the third week, she lost her job because he couldn’t stay away long enough for her to work.  She thinks about how his need for constant attention drove her to the point of choosing between him and school.17

“And I chose him,” she thinks. 18

He had pleaded for a child and she gave in, thinking the child would give him someone else to focus on and things would be better.  Instead, he became more demanding and competed with his own daughter for her attention.  She decides while standing there in the kitchen that she needs a change, needs her life back.19

Her husband comes into the room and kisses her cheek.  “Honey, look at me.” He grabs her by the hand and settles his face a few inches from hers.  “I’ve been thinking,” he says, “Let’s have another baby.”20

She drops her knife onto the counter top. “What! Are you insane?”21

` He has the needy look that Claudette gets when she wants something, and the woman realizes she can hardly stand to look at him anymore.22

“I want a divorce,” she blurts out.  This is not how she thought she’d tell him.  She had hoped they could talk after Claudette was in bed.  She’d tell her husband how she wanted to go back to school and have her own life again.  He would agree that would be best and she could walk out feeling confident that she’d handled married life the best she could.23

He stops and looks at her. “No, I want another child.”  His grip on her hand tightens.24

The woman knows what she is doing but can’t believe it.  She seems to be watching herself from the backyard through the kitchen window as she yanks her hand away from his and picks up the knife she has been using to chop the carrots.  A look of horror spreads across her face as she realizes what she is about to do.  Five years of pent up frustrations start to come out as the woman aims for his head and stabs him once, twice, three times, and realizes she is not going to stop.25

“Look at me,” he says.  The woman has been staring into the fireplace for a few minutes now, not staying anything.  She shudders, not at the thought of facing him, but at the thought of facing what she’s seen of the future.  She turns to look at him.26

He is down on one knee and she has to stifle something that is caught between a sob and a laugh.  All she can see is blood on her hands and a kitchen knife sticking out of his head.27

“Please, marry me.”28

“I’m sorry, Claude, I can’t.”  She gives it a minute to settle.  “I think I should go.”  She walks to the closet in the hallway and gets her coat.29

“Wait, wait a minute please.  Let’s talk about this.”  He is walking towards her but she is walking towards the door.30

“Listen, there’s nothing to talk about. I’m saying no.”  Joy is smiling to herself.  “I really don’t want to have to kill you in five years.”31