Loneliness Together

LONELINESS TOGETHER

Thirty-eight years ago, Margaret brought her future husband, Henry, to meet her parents for the first time. She wanted to introduce them, to let them know they intended to announce their engagement.

Her mother and father knew everything instantly, the moment they saw the unfamiliar young man standing at their doorstep. Margaret had never brought any of her suitors home before. She used to say,

Why bother introducing them? If I ever think about marriage, Ill let you know.

Thats why her parents watched the lad so closely as he sat awkwardly at their kitchen table, clearly ill at ease.

At one point, Margaret stepped out, and her father followed her.

Youre making a mistake, my girl. You cant marry him.

And why not? Margaret bristled Because hes a farmhand?

Thats not all of it, though it plays a part. Its just he might be a decent enough person, but you two are worlds apart. What will you talk to him about? You grew up in an officers home, you have a university degree. And him? Hes a simple country boy hardworking, yes, but terribly unsophisticated. You can see it straightaway. If you stay with him, the word intellect will always be between you.

Oh, leave off, Dad. Thats just old-fashioned nonsense. I dont care who he is. What matters is that he loves me and youre never too old to learn. Ill help him, youll see Margaret retorted, convinced she was right.

Well, it’s your decision. Remember what they say: Children who dont heed their parents end up wandering lost. Just dont say I didnt warn you…

They married. The passion of courtship faded, and the ordinary rhythm of married life began.

At Margarets constant urging, Henry enrolled at a technical college by correspondence, but he never really started studying. Margaret did his written assignments for him, struggling through unfamiliar technical subjects. He attended one or two sessions in person, then quit without a second glance, declaring,

Why bother? If you want to study, be my guest.

Margaret tried to reason with him, but it was hopeless. As far as he was concerned, he knew all he needed to. There was no sense, in his mind, wasting time on rubbish like this.

Fine, suit yourself she gave in, putting an end to his education.

She chose to think Henry wasnt really stupid. Hed read every book in her collection, took an interest in politics, and was valued at work. True, you could sense the countryside about him a mile off, but so what? She loved him as he was, simple as that.

Over the years, their relationship became more tangled. Henry ignored Margarets opinions, always tried to put her down, to demonstrate who ruled the roost. He would pronounce, in front of strangers no less, on subjects Margaret thought unspeakable, and hed do it with such certainty that she cringed inside.

It turned out that Henry couldnt make a single weighty decision. Every family problem landed squarely on Margarets shoulders, and he seemed to think this was only right:

Want the living room redecorated? Go on, do it!

Need a new fridge? Buy one, then!

Want the balcony done up? Thats your business. If you want it, you sort it out!

The only thing he cared for without protest was the garden out at their cottage. There, Henry truly thrived, toiling on the earth with pride. But that was really all.

Some people might say, Isnt that enough? Perhaps. But gardening season lasts only three or four months a year. All the rest of the time, Margaret played both wife and husband.

When she was younger, she didnt pay much attention to it. As the burden grew, though, it wore on her. Henry, well-used to letting his wife handle everything, had no inclination to change. Why would he? Life suited him. Not once in all their years did he bring her so much as a bunch of daffodils for Mothers Day. Once, when the topic of gifts came up, he said, quite seriously,

Ive already given you your presents twice over. Look, running around the house!

He meant their two daughters.

Margaret didnt argue or try to make a point. She accepted it. Even found excuses for him: Hes just not used to giving gifts, its not his way. Ill manage.

Henry had never been easy company. He didnt care for conversation and made no effort to connect with others. In the early days, people even asked Margaret, half in jest, if her husband could speak at all. Shed laugh it off.

In truth, it irked Henry to see how freely his wife chatted with everyone. He spoke poorly of all her friends and relatives, and over the years, never managed to make any friends of his own.

Not only did Margaret keep their household running, she also earned a good income. She never depended on her husband financially, not even in hard times. She always found side work, knowing full well Henry wouldnt trouble himself. If you want more, you earn it! He went to work that was that. Be content.

Gradually, Margaret realised she really had nothing to talk about with Henry. They saw everything through completely different lenses. If she enjoyed a film, he would insist it was utter nonsense. Anything he watched, she couldnt bear for more than ten minutes. Nothing to discuss when it came to music or books either.

Their personalities were opposite in every way: she was an altruist, prepared to do anything for him, their children, their friends; he was an out-and-out egotist, concerned solely with himself. The upshot? They ate different food, shared no interests, feelings faded, and the children grew up and left home. Thirty-odd years side by side, yet as strangers. Together, but alone.

For his part, Henry considered Margaret arrogant, ungrateful, disrespectful. It made no difference that she did everything he thought it was simply her duty.

Sometimes, after too much to drink, hed let loose a flood of harsh words: about her parents, long since gone, about her family. Every one of her actions, every word, he dissected according to his own measure, insulted and belittled her, doing it with a disturbing satisfaction, as though he were the lord of the manor putting his housemaid back in her place.

When the drink wore off, he couldnt fathom why she found it hard to speak to him.

I only told you the truth!

But he never could grasp that it was only his truth. He couldnt, or wouldnt, hear or accept another.

Even now, I remember Margaret sitting at my table, sobbing as she poured her heart out.

Im so tired All my life has felt like living atop a powder keg. You never know what will trigger him next, or when it will go off. Im weary of making compromises, of bending and enduring. But what am I to do? Divorce? Whats the point? The man wont go anywhere, hell stay and torment me bit by bit. Worst of all, hes utterly convinced hes right. After every such episode, Im ill for weeks, picking myself up piece by piece. After all, it’s still a family; theres the children, now even grandchildren. I find reasons to go on. I try to keep things civil, to smooth over the rough patches. He, I think, sees it as a victory. And then, it all begins again, afresh.

Im so tired I could scream. Yet, what choice is there? I could leave, but then what? When he drinks, he loses all reason. If Im not here, the local riff-raff would take over the flat. Theyd fill it with filth, spit everywhere Weve seen that before.

So, I endure. I cant bring myself to abandon my home to ruin.

You know, while the children were growing up, our differences seemed less obvious, less suffocating. There wasnt time to dwell on it or to listen to my own heart.

But now, with only the two of us left, its become unbearable. Two strangers under one roof, even after thirty-eight years…

Yes Father was right, after all. Intellect It always stood between us.