I stepped into the house and my phone went off. It was the hospital closest to our home, calling to say that my wife was ready for discharge.
“She had a miscarriage last night,” the nurse said over the phone, leaving me bewildered. “But she’s fine now.”
But I was about to become more stunned, for as soon as I brought Chichi home from the hospital, she confessed to me that she had forced the miscarriage. It was her own way of punishing me for our fight.
They say men shouldn’t cry, but daily, I wept in my soul as I came to realize that I was married to an unpredictable, vicious woman. I was scared for my life but afraid to leave my marriage for fear of what she would do. Outwardly, I put on a happy face whenever Chichi and I attended social gatherings, which was becoming very far and in between, as my regrets over marrying her strengthened with every passing second. Privately, I became withdrawn, preferring to work into the late hours than go home to my wife.
My Costa-Rican boss noticed my worsening melancholy and asked me what was going on. I made excuses, saying my depression was a result of overworking. She took my reply to heart and mandated a two weeks leave with pay. Perhaps she thought she was being generous but I didn’t see her generosity as an act of kindness since it meant that I’d be cooped up with Chichi for the next fourteen days. Although Chichi was a hard working Banker and was rarely home during the day, it was the thought of being in the house when she came back from work that had me reluctant to take the two weeks leave.
So I did what any other man who didn’t want to spend time with his wife would do. I made reservations for a hotel room in Downtown Houston in Texas and informed Chichi that I was going for a work-related conference that would last two weeks. From her cheerful smile as I lied through my teeth, I thought she brought my explanation. What I didn’t know was that the bomb in her head was ticking again, waiting to explode.
In Houston, I wasn’t interested in taking in the sights, as I just wanted to reflect on a lot of things, particularly my marriage to Chichi. I deliberately turned off my phone. During those three days, I prayed a lot. I was in a dark, confused place and I wanted out of my marriage. I just didn’t know how I was going to get out of it. I finally began to understand what Solomon in the Bible had meant when he said, “A beautiful woman with no discretion is like placing a gold ring in a pig’s snout.”
On my third day in the hotel, knocks pounded suddenly on my door, and my gut immediately warned me it was Chichi. I could practically feel my heart jump into my throat. My reaction would have been laughable had I not been part of the drama that was about to unfold in my hotel room. Here I was, a grown arse man, scared to death of my wife.
I opened the door and she breezed in. Her tone, when she returned my greeting was deadly sweet, and the cold way she stared at me had me thinking that the bomb in her head was just about to detonate. Remembering that she could become extremely angry at the slightest confrontation, I attempted to be gentle with her. But she had come to do battle and no amount of diplomacy on my part would allay the blast.
To be continued …..
***Originally posted November 21, 2011
LOL. Poor guy. As I said on the previous post, I like the twist of making the man the victim here. Those are stories that are left untold most of the time. Very nice.