"Did you want help, Ma?" I asked. Margaret had wanted me to call her Ma the moment I had stepped in. She was my replacement mother and she came with hugs and kisses. She made my stay here for the past six months bearable.
"Perhaps not,” she frowned, nervously folding her hands. “The lad might not like you doing the chores and helping out anymore," she said with a sad face. I knew where she was coming from. It would be disgraceful if anyone found out I helped out with the chores, which was really standing there and talking while they did it. And in fact I was hopeless at being a housewife.
Margaret smiled before rushing out the room and Rose stood up saying that she should probably leave. All I did was nod as I waited to be called for dinner.
If I thought I was nervous when he arrived, I was even more frazzled as I sat at the table Margaret had set up for us. It was small, quiet, and intimate, which I wasn’t used to. I was too used to eating in either the kitchen or in front of the television by myself, and the large dining hall when we had guests.
I wasn’t even aware there was a room like this. Maybe that was because I spent too much time sulking, and now thinking over it was pathetic. Was I still groveling over him six months later, and how did I not notice that till now?
Rose was right. I threw a blind eye to the world and was wallowing in self-pity. Playing with the napkin on my lap, I decided I was not going to wallow in self-pity anymore. It was time I got over myself and made something with my life.
I jumped in my seat as the clock rung loudly at six and shook my head at being so jumpy. And just on time he walked in and my eyes zoned in on the file in his hands.
I frowned. Who brought files to dinner?
He placed them on the coffee table nearby and walked up. Should I stand up? Was I supposed to greet him? But before I can decide, he took a seat in front of me and didn’t even glance at me. Well…that was one way to greet your wife.
I looked at the mirror on the far wall. Yes, I was still very much visible.
The cook and Margaret came rushing in carrying the dishes and he looked up at them giving them a warm smile and talking with them. Well, the man wasn't all robot; he could talk at least. How come I was an exception to this? Maybe he was still angry at the deal of being married to me, I know I still was.
The moment they left, we were plunged into silence. Only the clatter of the cutlery made a sound as we ate our chicken and corn meal. I sneaked a glance at him and his eyes were on his plate, nowhere else.
Should I say something?
No, why should I? He was the man he should start! Okay, that was very sexist, Ivory, bad girl. I should start the conversation, because if I was going to use the sexist card then wasn’t it that females are good at conversation?
I opened my mouth and then closed it. What do I say? Should I say, ‘Hello, darling, did you have a nice trip?’ or maybe, ‘Darling, do you remember me?’ I winced at both those choices, they didn’t sound right. Maybe silence was the best right now, till I can say something that didn’t sound so bad.
It grew quieter, if that was even possible, and I gave up on saying something and looked at the clock anxiously to see when this torment would finally be over. There was something about him that made me scared. Maybe it was the way he looked sitting down, his confidence taking over the room. I may have been a girl who didn’t care about the person who was talking, stood up for herself, talked back, wasn’t scared to start a conversation, but that girl was hiding inside me.
I knew it had been over two hours and not a word was spoken between us. And I was surprised to want to know what his voice sounded like. And somewhere during that time, I did want to speak up but he just drank his water, grabbed the file and submerged himself in it, his eyebrows knotting every time he flicked a page.
Margaret finally walked in and I let out a breath that I didn’t realise I was holding in. She looked between us, probably feeling the tension, and smiled.
“Was everything to your liking?”
"Of course, Marge. It was wonderful." His deep voice rumbled as he stood up. So that’s what he sounded like. I watched glued to my chair as he gave her a smile and a nod and picked up his files and walked out.
"Well, that went well," I said, standing up and leaving my apple pie untouched.
"Go after him," said Margaret, giving me a push.
"Me?" I asked, staring at her open eyed. Did she not observe the way he just got up and left the room? I think he wanted to be alone and I was going to respect his wishes.
Margaret gave me another slight push. "The boy needs a push; he's a quiet one," she said.
I frowned, thinking about my choices. What can I possibly lose? I nodded at her and rushed out of the room trying to catch up to him before he disappeared in this massive house. Taking the stairs by two, I saw a glimpse of him before he disappeared in a room.
I mustered up the courage before calling out to him.