ONLY CALL ME
By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife! The registrars words rang out, but suddenly, she choked, coughing uncontrollably.
Thats a bad omen, my mother remarked, frowning at the untimely fit.
The guests started to gossip, whispering behind the veils of their hats. Olivia and I, just eighteen, glanced fearfully at one another. Practically children. Hastily wed. Olivia was expectingwith our little one arriving in only two months.
We had to rent her wedding dress at the last minute; Olivia borrowed her best friends heels. Funnily enough, years later, Id have a fleeting affair with that same friendbut that’s another story.
Back then, though, we were young, naïve, and happy.
Once, Olivia and I were strolling down a leafy avenue. My arm was around her waist, as we basked in the newlywed glow. Suddenly, a strange old fellow ambled over and muttered to me, Hold tight to your missus, son, or someone will steal her.
He said his piece and left. We laughed and shrugged off his warning. Life stretched out in front of uswho could ever tear us apart? Let them try.
My mate Jamie, who served as best man at our wedding, later said, Tom, couldnt you have picked yourself a better bride? There’s plenty of bonny girls!
I waved him off, Looks like theyre all waiting for you then.
And, as it turned out, they truly were. Jamie married four remarkable women over the yearsall beauties, all clever.
Our daughter, Rosie, was born.
Then, I was called up for army service, posted miles away from home. I missed Olivia and Rosie fiercely. Olivia sent me her photographit lived under my pillow, my tattered hope for a sweet dream of my wife.
One day, I came back to the barracks and found her photo laid out on my bedside table, defaced and smeared with foul words. Fury overtook me and I attacked the bunkmate responsible; left him bruised and battered. I spent a stint confined in the military jail for my trouble. The ruined photo had to be torn up and binned. He got his punishment, I suppose.
When I returned from the army, I was hardened, bitter. Unreasonably so. I convinced myself that Olivia, now transformedno longer the shy girl who had waved me offhad surely taken a lover while I was away. How else could I explain her change? Now she was radiant, confident, charged with a sense of herself.
Is that really you, Olivia? I whispered in her ear.
I was proud of her! Yet, a worm of doubt gnawed at mewhat if I was no longer her only man? There had always been plenty of admirers. Just to avoid humiliation, I took up a mistress of my own.
Word of my escapades reached Olivia in three months. It nearly cost us our marriage. She declared, Well, Tom, youll reap what you sow…
Olivia burned every letter Id sent from the armythose she had once cherished in a decorative box, reading them on lonely nights. I was banished from our bed, ice-cold at meal times, permitted only practical conversation.
In short: I hurt her for a day, I wept for a year. I whisked Olivia and Rosie away for an extra summer rehabsea, sun, fruit, winehoping the holiday would heal old wounds. There, we reconciled.
Upon our return, I abandoned my illicit lover.
For seven years, Olivia and I lived a quiet, steady lifetranquility, perhaps even dullness. But maybe Olivia yearned for a bit more excitement something fiery, something passionate.
At my workplace, there was a chap named Bernarda jovial soul, the life of every party. Bernard could chat with anyone; people confided in him about their troubles, their hard lives, their troublesome wives, their dragons of mothers-in-law, even the state of the world. He listened and dispensed wise counsel. I thought, Why not invite Bernard to Olivias birthday? Hell liven up the place. If only Id known how it would end!
Bernard accepted the invitation, bringing his wife along. He was in rare formcracking jokes, spinning clever toasts, laughing with every guest. Olivia, radiant, danced around the table, served food, laughed, chirped like a little bird. The birthday bash was a roaring success.
A month later, hell broke loose for both families.
Bernards wife rang me, distraught, Tom, dont you know? Our spouses are having an affair. Tell your precious wife, Ill fight for Bernard! She wont win! Weve got two young children.
I, blind as a bat, hadn’t suspected a thing. Was Olivia really taking such reckless revenge for my old sins?
Theres no need to dwell on the nightmare that followed. Bernards wife stalked Olivia everywhere, threatened to swallow pills and die dramatically. I locked Olivia in our flat, unplugged the landline, threatened divorce. No use. They say you can’t hide love, fire, or a cough. At that point, I ran to Olivias best friend for help.
She told me, as sharply as a blade, Tom, this is love. Olivia wont come back. The path back to her is closed.
It hit me hard. In my grief, I lingered at her friends place for half a yearshe comforted me briefly.
Olivia and Bernard married. They lived as if no one else existed. They seemed to breathe as one, found paradise on earth. I hated themwished them every misery. How could I have lost my wife? Looks like happiness and sorrow share the same carriage.
They say time heals. I dont believe it. My wound only crusted overthin and fragile as first iceoften aching still. Friends carefully chose me a second wife. They picked a beauty. I married quickly, afraid Id change my mind. Seventeen years together now. I try to appear happy, but hope without hope. If someone dared enter the vaults of my battered soul, theyd find Olivia, settled there forever. Would you call…
