As soon as John came home, without taking off his shoes or coat, he blurted out, “Emma! We need to have a serious talk…”
And without pausing, eyes wide with emotion, he confessed, “I’m in love!” Emma thought to herself, “Well, looks like the mid-life crisis has finally reached our family. Hello there…” but said nothing, instead giving John a look she hadn’t given him in five or six (or maybe eight?) years.
It’s said that before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. For Emma, it was their life together that started to replay. They had met in a pretty mundane way – online. Emma had shaved three years off her age, while John had added an extra inch or two to his height. Despite these small deceptions, they managed to fulfill each other’s search criteria and, somehow, they connected.
Emma couldn’t recall who messaged whom first, but she did remember that John’s message was free of any sleaze and had a touch of self-deprecation, which she appreciated. At thirty-three, with an average appearance, Emma realistically assessed her prospects on the marriage market. She knew that if she wasn’t in the last row, she was definitely in the second-to-last. So she resolved to bite her tongue on the first date, to listen closely, wear rose-tinted glasses and lace underwear, and stash some homemade cookies and a volume of Dickens in her handbag.
To Emma’s surprise, their first meeting was easy and natural (a testament to the right outfit!), and their romance quickly blossomed. Their relationship was lively and engaging, and after six months of dating and pressure from their parents, eager for grandchildren, John proposed. They swiftly introduced their families, and their preference for a small family wedding was unanimously accepted, with everyone agreeing not to delay and choose the earliest available date for the ceremony.
Emma felt they had a good life. Their family climate was warm and steady, without fiery dramas, but filled with mutual respect and care – wasn’t that happiness? John, being a typical straightforward man, dropped his guise of the “romantic, empathetic charmer” shortly after the wedding, revealing himself as a simple, hardworking, and caring husband, comfortable in his home tracksuits.
Emma, meanwhile, as a more complex woman, slowly let go of her “all-seeing, all-hearing, sensual yet intellectual homemaker” persona, a process hastened by her first pregnancy. Within a year, she too happily shed her cracking facade, embracing the comfort of a cozy bathrobe.
Despite shedding their personas, neither had run away, nor had they blamed each other for anything. This assured Emma of their marriage’s solidity and reinforced her belief in their partnership. The challenges of raising two closely born children did rock their boat from time to time, but they never capsized. And when the storm passed, they continued to navigate their life’s journey calmly and gracefully.
Their parents were overjoyed to help in any way they could. John and Emma were climbing their career ladders slowly but surely, making time for travel, hobbies, and each other, maintaining a typical lifestyle.
After twelve years of marriage, John had never once been caught cheating or even lightly flirting with anyone, though Emma wasn’t the jealous type. He could have gotten away with such a mischief with no aftermath. As she imagined him flirting, she smiled because the image in her head was so absurd. The thing was, early in their relationship, after several failed attempts at traditional compliments, John changed tactics. He would just widen his eyes in what Emma interpreted as admiration, like a bushbaby.
Over time, Emma had become adept at reading John’s emotions by how wide his eyes were: from wild admiration to mild approval, involuntary surprise, unexpected confusion, strong misunderstanding, or complete indignation. She imagined John silently showering someone with compliments, his eyes growing wider and wider.
With a dry throat from picturing John transforming into a bushbaby, she nervously smiled and wheezed, “And what’s the name of this ‘someone’ you’re in love with?”
John’s eyes practically popped out of his head. Stammering, he searched his pockets and stuttered, “How? How did you… How could you guess I fell for… a rat? No way… I was just enchanted when I saw her… You’ve got to see how amazing she is, how soft, how beautiful… how much she looks like you…”
John pulled a tiny, gray rat from his pocket, her pink ears translucent, a pink snout, and shiny, bead-like black eyes.
From that moment on, Emma heard nothing more. She admired John, his new friend, their mutual affection, and was endlessly happy that he had fallen for this rat that bore such resemblance to her…
