It never pleased me, Lydia, and when youre stricken with an incurable malady, perhaps solitude would be a balm, I remarked, recalling the words that had once slipped from my own mouth in the cramped kitchen of our modest terraced house in Manchester.
Lydia had, many years before, diagnosed herself with a most vexing conditionjealousy. She declared it incurable and, whenever I begged her to temper her fits over trifles, she would repeat the warning to me, My love, youll never silence a jealous heart. Even my motherinlaw, Mrs. Whitaker, often reminded our son, Thomas, that his wifes jealousy clung to him like every fence post on the lane. Thomas could not fathom the meaning of a fence post, but he could not deny that Lydias jealousy was indeed excessive.
One afternoon, after we had left the market in Salford, Lydia erupted in fury at the sight of the young cashier. Did you stare at her, Thomas? Were you undressing her in your thoughts? she demanded, her voice sharp as a cutthroat razor.
I, crimson with embarrassment, abandoned her amid the shopping bags and hurried back to the car. My mind swirled with excuses. What was I looking at? I know not the shape of the woman you speak of. I was only thinking of the deed I must grant to my partner, Sergeant Clarke, whom I am sending on a brief assignment, while I squandered the day with you in those aisles. A waste, indeed.
She snapped, Now youll conjure a thousand reasons to dodge your guilt. Why didnt you drive straight to the office after the shop, if it mattered so much?
I am bound to meet Clarke himself, who will arrive later; I had to pull him from his post, I answered, trying to keep calm.
Lydia, cease feeding my jealousy with emptiness, lest it lead us nowhere, she retorted.
And you give me no cause, then I shall not be jealous, I replied, shaking my head. She seemed to see spectres where none existed, a talent of her own, and I was weary of explaining myself. I had married Lydia out of a deep affection, yet after five years of her countless tantrums, the flame of love dimmed. I often wondered whether I had truly chosen the right companion; another few years and life might become wholly unkind.
I ran a modest mediaproduction firm in Leeds, while Lydia held a post in the town council. She had climbed the municipal ladder slowly and clung to her rank, refusing to surrender it for a child. Whenever I broached the subject of offspring, she would say her career took precedence, promising to consider it only when she secured a new, comfortable chairprovided a nanny could be hired at once.
Her disdain for domestic duties irked me, yet I respected her wishes and could not press. I offered repeatedly that she might leave her job, but she persisted, driven not by money but by ambition to reach the highest office.
Soon Sergeant Clarke returned, and we conferred over a pot of tea. As I escorted him out, he asked, Whats troubling Lady Lydia this time? Has a quarrel broken out?
Its the usual, I shrugged, her jealousy steals any peace.
Jealousy means love, Clarke chuckled, though I sometimes wonder if my own wife, Mary, loves me. I have never staged a jealous scene, yet I once pretended to flirt with her friend, just to see her reaction.
I clasped his hand, wishing him a smooth journey.
That evening, I sat at my desk, corresponding with a client in New York, the time difference making the hours slip by. When at last I retired to the bedroom, hoping to reconcile, Lydia flung my arm away as if awaiting a storm.
Go hug the cashier! she shrieked, and I could bear it no longer.
I seized the blanket, stepped to the doorway, and turned, voice booming, I shall spend the night in my study. If you do not calm yourself, I will not return to our bed tomorrow. I am fed up!
At dawn, Lydia awoke him with a gentle kiss and a cup of coffee. Thomas, forgive yesterday. You must understandjealousy is a disease without cure. One cannot help being jealous of such a husband.
I replied, I despise it, Lydia, and when you bear this incurable illness, perhaps solitude would serve you better? My tone was grave, and Lydias thoughts turned inward. She wondered if I might truly leave, for all patience wanes, and she tried to be gentle. From that day onward, a hush settled over our home. Lydia became the calm she had never shown before. Though my work often kept me late, I would inform her and return with a bunch of red roses. She would meet me with a hearty supper, though I sometimes wished she would ask why my duties could not be arranged so I would not stay late.
Happiness, I learned, is as fleeting as a zebras stripesonce you step forward, they disappear.
One bright afternoon, Lydia called while I was at the office. Thomas, are you busy?
No, whats the matter?
I need a lift to the childrens convalescent home outside town; my car is in the garage. Could you take me?
Certainly, I replied, glad for a change of scenery.
Driving into the countryside, I paused to admire the towering cedars lining the paths, the wooden carvings of fairytale figures scattered about, the children laughing with their parents, the birds singing. The air was pure, a blessing indeed.
Lydia said, I shall be brief; I hope to return soon, and hurried toward the building. A small girl of four darted to me, shouting, Daddys come! Where have you been? She clutched my knee, and I stood rooted, eyes darting between Lydia, who turned into a wooden statue, and the girls mother, hurrying after her child.
The embarrassed mother rushed over, trying to extricate her daughter from my grasp. Little one, thats not our father! she said, turning to me, Forgive me, I must explain to my child that shes mistaken.
Lydia intervened, What will you say now, dear? That Lydia is again in the wrong? Will you repeat my reminder?
The child, trembling like a kitten caught in rain, looked at Lydia with fear and clung to her mother.
Why is aunt shouting at father? the girl asked. Her mother crouched, whispering soothingly.
I, stern, warned, Lydia, do not raise your voice near a child. You have frightened her!
Lydia spat, Look at him! Hes turned the other cheek and now my mouth is shut! It wont work, my love, it wont work!
Other mothers swiftly gathered their offspring away from the commotion. The girls mother tried to pull her away, but the child refused.
Let father go with us! she cried.
Ill stay! Lydia snapped, If you wont go with us, Ill sue for divorce and split the estate, for you have betrayed me.
The other woman, flustered, apologized, insisting the boy was not her own child. Lydia ordered, Silence, you! He is my husband by law. When he becomes yours, you may command!
The woman lifted her daughter, apologised again to me, and fled, while the child wept, Father!
I caught Lydia by the shoulders, gazed into her eyes, and said, The child was mistaken, and you have created this scene. Are you of sound mind?
She retorted, I am the last straw! I see only a copy of you! Why did you not go with them? My connections are needed! Now you shall have nothing!
The director of the home appeared, Anything amiss? I shook my head, All fine, and turned to Lydia, Do not return home; I shall manage alone, I muttered, walking away with my head held high.
I scratched my scalp, settled into the car, and watched Lydia pass by without a glance, hopping into a cab minutes later.
Ah, thats that, I muttered, noticing a woman hurrying toward my vehicle the mother of little Dasha. She apologized profusely, explaining she had put Dasha to bed, fearing for her, and that she saw a striking resemblance between me and her late husband. She believes the fairy will bring her father back, she whispered, pleading that I tell my wife we meant no harm.
My wife is gone, I fear, I sighed, wishing her well as I drove away.
Returning to the office, I spent the night there, deciding I would not share any assets with Lydia; let her keep everything while I bought anew, for my clientele was plentiful.
The next day I rented a modest flat and, after packing, returned home to find Lydia, oddly, sitting in the daylight, a bottle of brandy in hand.
Will you join me? she offered, extending the bottle.
Thank you, but I abstain, I replied.
She answered, I have not forgotten, nor the years you placed horns upon me. I seemed faithful, yet my daughter grows. Congratulations! The fools dream has come true.
I said nothing, my desire to speak with her vanished. All love had drained, every feeling evaporated. I gathered my belongings in silence, and as I departed, Lydia shouted, Do not expect any remainder after the split. I have been left jobless because of you; they want me to sign my own for your daughters sake!
She laughed loudly, and I answered from the doorway, Through yourself, Lydia, you have lost everything!
I resolved to turn the page, never to revisit those fleeting days of happiness. Time was scarce, and I filed for divorce, then, upon receiving the papers, sought new accommodation. With little time to manage matters, I turned to a realtor, only to discover the very woman from the convalescent home standing there. She recognized me instantly and, with a nervous tone, asked, Did something happen? Was it because of that incident with Dasha?
Im here for business, I replied, the episode troubles me not; perhaps it was for the best, pardon my phrasing.
She smiled, asked the usual questions, took notes, and promised to call within days. Her professionalism was evident. Over the weekend she phoned, presenting several houses, describing each in detail. By evening I knew which I would purchase.
Thank you, Nancy, I said, a hint of embarrassment in my voice, You have spent so much time on my behalf. May I invite you to dinner, if you are not hurried? By the way, how is your daughter?
My mother looks after her, she replied, and I would not decline dinner.
After the meal I drove Nancy home, and we met a few more times to finalise the deal.
Now, Nancy, thanks to you I own a splendid house at a modest price. You are, of course, invited to the housewarmingmy apologies for the boldness, but without you the celebration would lack spirit.
I shall come, she agreed.
She visited several times after the move. Six months later, I could no longer restrain myself and proposed to Nancy. She accepted, and Dasha, the little girl from the convalescent home, seemed overjoyed when I promised never again to flee from them for such a long spell.
