I’ve had enough. That’s it, I’m leaving! How much more can I take?
“Enough is enough. Im leaving! How much more am I supposed to bear? The child, her constant weariness, help me, help me… but I want to go out again, like I used to! I want sex! I work, for heavens sake! I want to come home to my beloved wife, to a real woman. Now Ill stay at a mates place for a bit, and then Ill find myself a younger girl… oh, well…” Sitting behind the wheel and thinking about how today was the final straw in his marriage, Stephen nervously smoked a cigarette.
Stephen and his wifes story was as old as the hills. They met, and madly fell in love; passion overtook them, and they stopped thinking about protection. The outcome, a few months later, was she showed him a positive pregnancy test.
“Of course, you should have the baby, well manage,” Stephen had said confidently, and all the women and the old folks nodded their heads with approval, promising to help, just so she would have the child. Then came the wedding, the birth, happy tears a son! And that was the end the carefree days were over; his wife became like a mother hen, always tired, hair a mess, the endless crying from the child, even at night, her constant “help me, help me”… where had his girl gone? Their relatives quickly disappeared; they were left alone to face parenthood together.
“Im not ready for this!” Stephen blurted out today, shutting the door on his crying wife, who was clutching their wailing baby.
Screeching brakes… suddenly, a dark, hunched figure appeared in front of the car.
“Do you have a death wish or something?” Jumping out, Stephen rushed over to the figure.
The man in the long coat, straightening up, looked at Stephen with mournful, aged eyes and whispered:
“Yes.”
Taken aback by the answer, Stephen hesitated:
“Sir, do you need help? Are you alright?”
“I dont want to live anymore…”
“Come on now, dont say that; let me drive you home. Maybe youll tell me your story, and perhaps I can help somehow?” Stephen took the old man’s hand carefully and led him to the car.
“Go on, tell me your story,” Stephen said, lighting another cigarette.
“Its a long tale.”
“Ive got nowhere to be in a hurry.”
The old man gazed steadily at Stephen, then glanced up at the photograph hanging in the car.
“Fifty years ago, I met a girl. Instantly, I was smitten. Everything moved quickly before we knew it, we were a family with a son, an heir… youd think thats happiness, wouldnt you? But I wanted things to be as they once were, passionate, young, wild love. My wife was exhausted, the baby kept us up, the house needed keeping, the bills needed paying, and I laid it all on her shoulders, never helped. At work, I met another woman, got caught up with her… my wife found out, divorce followed, and that was that. With the other woman, it never amounted to anything. I didnt care; I continued living only for myself. My wife remarried, she blossomed, her son called her new husband Dad, and I couldnt have cared less.
“So what did you do?” Stephen asked, nervously lighting another cigarette.
“Me? I carried on, and ended up with no family, no wife, no children. Today was my sons fiftieth birthday. I went to congratulate him, but he wouldnt let me in. Told me, Youre not my father, carry on with your gallivanting. He was right, and Im to blame,” the old man sobbed.
Stephen started tapping the steering wheel, “Where should I drop you off, sir?”
“I live just here, dont worry about me.” The old man slipped out of the car and shuffled toward a block of flats nearby. Stephen watched until he was inside, waited a moment, then drove off. He stopped at the supermarket and bought some flowers.
“Forgive me, forgive me,” he said on entering his home, kneeling before his crying wife, “Have a rest, my love.”
He gently took his son from her arms, went into the other room, soothing the boy as he began to sing in a rasping voice, “Tired little toys are sleeping…”
The surprised baby fell asleep quickly, trustingly placing his hand over his fathers racing heart. Stephen gazed at the child with tenderness, “I want to see my son grow, I want to hear Dad.”
“Out saving drowning men again?” With a faint smile, Dorothy greeted her old man at the door. He, smiling, hung his coat on the peg.
“Yes, I was. Someones got to drill some sense into the young ones.”
“And how do you always sense who needs help?”
“I needed help myself at that age…”
“Come on, lets have supper, hero. And remember, tomorrows our son’s anniversary, no drowning men for the evening,” Dorothy lovingly looked at her husband.
“I havent forgotten. After all, our heir turns fifty tomorrowthe fruit of our love. How could I ever forget that?” Wrapping his arm around her, the old man headed to the kitchen with Dorothy, smiling.
