Life in the Pluperfect

“So you'll never love me less?!” she cried. “Never… I mean, always, I will always love you just as much… I'm sorry…” Early that morning, she started by throwing pillows at his head. At noon she continued with lettuce leaves, tomatoes, and toast, and then she finished the day by smashing the family china. He remained silent. He could only think of one thing: “What a mess, what a mess!” As soon as she left the room, he tried to tidy up. He put the pillows back in their place, he picked up and washed the lettuce leaves, the tomatoes, and the toast, he threw the broken plates in the bin. He was afraid she would hurt herself. She always walks barefoot, he repeated under his breath, carefully cleaning the floor of all the porcelain shards. She entered the room, wearing her coat, suitcase in hand. Furious to find him doing housework, when she was doing everything she could to make him angry, she screamed: “For God's sake! You disgust me!” She lunged for the exit. He shot up. He grabbed her hand, squeezed it tightly, for the first time. His face darkened, his gaze became firm and resolute. “I have another woman. I love her too. I will always love her. There are two of you. There it is.”

Disoriented, she sank onto the chair. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? What woman?” “You see, where I work, in the suburbs, I have a house with her.” “A house? With another woman?” “A detached house. A garden. A swimming pool. And a baby. He's six months old.” “Another woman and a child?…” “Yes, she wanted one so badly. And I, I do everything I can. For her too…” “That's impossible, you're delirious!” He picked up his briefcase and took out some photos, photos of a perfect, happy family: daddy, mummy, and their baby. She cried. He told her the whole story, from the beginning. He concluded: “I love two women, that's just how it is, I can't help it.” “And you're not going to leave her.” “…” “You bastard!” She tried to hit him, but he stopped her hands. Then he grabbed her by the arms and held her against his chest. She gave in. A woman's head found its strong shoulder again. She cried some more. “I know you love me, and I'll give you time to think.” He stood up and left. The walk was long, endless. Returning, he paused at the door. A little worried. The keys turned, unlocking the entrance. He scanned the living room; her suitcase was gone. He moved towards the bedroom. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. She was there, asleep. A defenceless little girl, weak after an emotional day. A woman, a lioness, ready to fight to keep her imperfectly perfect husband. He smiled. “All's fair in love and war…” and turned off the light.