Just Call Out to Me “I now pronounce you husband and wife!” declared the registrar, but suddenly s…

JUST CALL ME

I now pronounce you husband and wife! declared the registrar with great ceremonyand suddenly she choked, coughing uncontrollably.
Well, thats not a good omen, my mum commented on the awkward episode.
The guests stirred, whispering among themselves. Rose and I, bride and groom, exchanged nervous glances. We were only eighteen, really just kids. The whole affair was hurried; Rose was marrying with a bit of baggage.
Our unplanned baby was due in two months. We scrambled: a wedding dress hired last minute, shoes borrowed from Roses best mate. Funny, years later Id have a fleeting affair with that same friend.
But for now, we were young and happy.
…One afternoon, Rose and I strolled down the avenue, my arm resting lightly around her waist. Suddenly, a strange bloke wandered up and quietly said to me, Hold on tight to your missusyou never know who might snatch her away.
He blurted it out and went on his way. We laughed and forgot all about his bizarre warning. We had our whole lives aheadwho could possibly tear us apart? Let them try.
A mate whod been my best man at the wedding once taunted me:
Steve, surely you couldve picked a better wife? Theres loads of stunning girls around!
I brushed him off:
Theyre probably just waiting for you.
And as it turned out, they did. He ended up married four times, always to clever, beautiful women.
…Our daughter, Emily, was born.
Soon afterwards, I headed off for military service, far from home. I missed Rose and Emily terribly. Rose once sent me her photo; I kept it tucked under my pillow, hoping to see her in a sweet dream.
One day I came back to the barracks and saw Roses photo lying in plain sight. Someone had scrawled crude graffiti over her face and written something obscene. Furious, I attacked my bunkmate, beating him within an inch of his life. I spent time in the cell for that. The ruined photograph was torn up and tossed away. The guy deserved his punishment.
Upon leaving the army, my return home was colder. For some reason, I was deeply angry at Rose. Id convinced myself that a young wife must surely have a lover, and decided Rose must have been unfaithful during my two years away.
Why?
The woman I saw after my long absence wasnt the timid mouse whod waved me off to the army. Now, there stood a confident, vibrant woman, radiating irresistible energy.
Is that really you, Rose? I dont recognise you! I whispered in her ear, both proud and suspicious.
Thats when doubt crept in: Surely Im not the only one in Roses life? Thered always be men after someone so sweet. Where theres honey, there are flies. Just in case, I got myself a mistressso I wouldnt feel cheated if the worst came true.
Three months later, Rose heard rumours about my affairs. I barely convinced her to hold off on divorce. She passed sentence:
Well, Steve, you brought this on yourself
Rose burned all my letters from the army. Shed kept them in a trinket box, reading them now and then. The bedroom door was closed for an indefinite period; she stopped inviting me to eat at the table. We only talked about chores and bills.
In short: I hurt my wife for a day, cried for a year. To make amends, I took Rose and Emily away on holidaybesides the usual summer trips. Wine, fruit, sea, sun, fresh air Eventually, we reconciled.
After the vacation, I parted with my illicit lover.
For about seven years, life with Rose was calm, steadylike an oasis of peace. But something seemed missing for her, maybe a bit of Italian-style passion?
…At my workplace, there was a jokerPaulwho could chat about anything and always made people laugh. He was a good listener; the lads queued up to complain about their lives, their nagging wives, their mother-in-law dramas, or world troubles. Paul listened patiently, always offering helpful advice. Maybe Ill invite Paul to Roses birthday? I thought. He could lighten up any room. If only Id known where it would lead!
Paul accepted and brought his own wife along. That night he was at his best: telling jokes, making up clever toasts on the spot. Rose beamed at everyone, filled plates, chattered away like a bird. It was a wonderful birthday. But within a month, both our families were spinning in chaos!
…Pauls wife rang me late in the evening:
Steve, you do realise your wife and my Paul are seeing each other? Tell your precious Rose that I won’t give up Paul! She needs to keep her hands offespecially with our two kids to think about.
I was obliviousa right fool! Could Rose really be so reckless, still punishing me for my past sins?
I wont recount the nightmare in detail. Pauls wife pursued Rose everywhere, threatening to overdose and make a show of it. I locked Rose in the flat, unplugged the home phone, threatened divorce. All pointless. As people saylove, fire, and coughing cant be hidden. Thats when I went to Roses best friend for help.
She cut straight to the chase: Steve, thats real love. Rose won’t come back. Youve lost her.
Misery had taken me from every side. I lingered at her friends flat for half a year, and she managed to console me, if only for a while.
Rose and Paul got married. They seemed oblivious to anything outside their bubblea heaven on earth. It was as though they drew breath together. During that time, I detested and cursed them both. I wanted to scream, to tear my hair out! How could this happen? My wife stolen from me! Seems happiness and pain ride in the same carriage.
They say time heals. I dont believe it. My wound only grew a thin, brittle crustlike the first ice, aching often. Friends fussed over finding me a new wife. They succeeded Shes beautiful. I married hastily so I wouldnt second-guess. Seventeen years together now. I try to look happy I hope without hope. But if anyone could peer into the storerooms of my worn-out soul, theyd find Rose still living thereforever. Will you ever callSometimes, late at night, I hear the distant ring of that old house phone echoing in my mind. If I sit quietly enough, I imagine Roses laugh carried on the wind, her cheek pressed gently against my shoulder, her warmth lingering in the spaces between memory and regret. I think of the registrars cough at our weddinga warning I was too young to heed.

The years teach us that love isnt a promise but a puzzle: the pieces never fit the way you want. I travel through days and dreams with the weight of what was, and every so often, I see Emilygrown, her mothers eyes shiningand I know there are chapters still unwritten, chances to mend whats broken inside of me. Maybe Ill call Rose one day, just to hear her voice again; maybe I wont.

But when I tuck myself into sleep, I whisper her name like a prayer, grateful for the lives we built, tangled and torn. Love, after all, is simply the story we keep telling ourselves: that the ending might yet surprise us, that even the hearts ruins are beautiful, and that somewhere, somehow, someone remembers.