LONELINESS TOGETHER
Thirty-eight years ago, Margaret brought her soon-to-be husband, Richard, home to meet her parents. She wanted to introduce him, to let them know they planned to get married. Her mum and dad immediately understood, just from the sight of an unfamiliar young man at their doorstep. Margaret had never brought home any of her boyfriends before, always saying, Why parade them around? When I think about marriage, then youll meet him.
Thats why her parents now watched the visitor at their table so closely, seeing how awkward he was as he fidgeted in his seat. Margaret slipped out for something, and her father quickly followed her into the hallway.
Youre making a mistake. You cant marry him.
Why ever not? Margaret bristled defensively. Because hes a farmhand?
Thats not it, although it does add to it, her father replied, voice low. Youre just different people, love. What on earth will you talk about? Youve grown up in a family of officers, went to university. And him? Hes a country lad, hard-working but well, simple. You can see it straightaway. If you stay with him, therell always be one word between you: brains.
Oh Dad, dont be silly. Thats just old-fashioned thinking, she shot back, utterly convinced he was wrong. I dont care what he does. He loves methats all that matters. Besides, its never too late to learn. Ill help him.
He shook his head sadly. Alright, but remember: Those who dont heed their parents, wander forever. Dont come to me later and say I didnt warn you…”
The wedding went ahead. The excitement faded, and married life began its usual course.
After much persuading, Richard agreed to study for a technical diploma by correspondence, but he never really started. Margaret ended up writing his assignments for him, poring through technical textbooks she didnt even understand. He went to class a couple of times, then stopped altogether, shrugging as he declared, Whats the point? If you want it, you do it.
Margaret tried to change his mind, but it was no use. Richard figured he already knew enough and wasnt going to waste time on that nonsense.
She gave up. It wasnt as if he was daft. He had read every book on her shelf, kept up with politics, and his colleagues respected him. Of course, there was no hiding the strong whiff of countryside about him, but what did it matter? That was the man shed fallen for.
With the years, it got harder. Richard never listened to Margarets opinions, always trying to put her down and prove who was boss. Hed say things out loud to guests that Margaret thought unspeakable, with such bravado that it made her shudder.
It turned out, Richard couldnt make a tough decision to save his life. Every problem that cropped up in the family landed squarely on Margarets shoulders, and he took it as a given.
Want to redecorate? Have at it!
Need a new fridge? Go get it!
Balcony needs fixing? Thats your problem. If you want it done, you sort it!
The only thing he actually enjoyed was the allotment outside of town. There, Richard would work from dawn till dusk, cheerful and capable. But that was only three or four months out of the year. For the rest of the time, Margaret was both the wife and the husband in that house.
When she was young, she didnt pay much attention. As the years went by, the burden grew heavy. Richard, meanwhile, had long since settled into life being looked after by his wife and saw no reason to change. Why bother? As he once said, laughing as if it were clever, Why would I buy you flowers for Mothering Sunday? Havent I given you enough? There you gorunning around the house.
He meant their two daughters.
Margaret said nothing and accepted it all, finding excuses for him. Hes just not used to giving presents. In his family, thats not done Ill manage.
Richard was always a difficult man. He couldnt, or wouldnt, socialise with others. Early on, even Margarets friends would ask if he could talk at all. She joked about it.
But Richard resented how easily his wife got on with everyone. He spoke poorly of her friends and familyand never made any of his own.
Margaret not only ran their home but always earned her own money. She refused ever to rely on her husband. Even when times were tough, she found extra work, knowing Richard would never bother. If you want more, earn it, hed say. So long as he clocked in at work, he was satisfied.
Over time, Margaret realised she simply had nothing to talk about with Richard anymore. They saw life in opposite ways. If she liked a film, hed call it rubbish. His favourites she couldnt endure more than ten minutes. Music and books were groundless topics.
Their personalities were poles apart. She was generous, ready to do anything for him, for their children, for friends. He cared only for himself, a classic egotist. In the end: different meals, no overlapping interests, affection long gone, children grown and scattered. Thirty years of living togetherbut alone. Strangers, really.
Richard, for his part, believed Margaret had grown arrogant, that she didnt value or respect him. It didnt matter that she carried all the weight, he believed it was her duty.
Every so often, hed drink too much and let loosea tirade about her dead parents, her relatives, judging everything she said or did. He insulted her, humiliated her, and did it with a twisted satisfaction, like a lord disciplining his staff.
When he sobered up, he couldnt understand why his wife barely spoke to him.
I was only telling the truth! hed insist.
It was no use explaining that it was just his truth. He wasnt capable of hearing, understanding, or accepting anything else.
Even now, Margaret sits across the table from me, her face streaked with tears.
Im so tired… she chokes out. Its like living on a knife-edge. You never know what mad idea hell get, or when itll explode. Im so sick of compromising, of bending, of enduring. Whats the point? Divorce? What would that solve? The man would never leave; hed suck the life out of me, torment me. And the worst of ithe really believes hes right. After every outburst, Im ill for weeks, piecing myself back together. But its still a marriage, and we have our children, our grandchildren. I keep finding reasons to stay. Try to smooth things over, show kindnessbut I think he sees it as a victory, and just starts up all over again.
Im so worn out, I just want to scream. But what choice do I have? Sure, I could leave, but then what? When he drinks, he loses the little sense he has left. If Im gone, all the rabble from the local off-licence would just take over our flat. Theyd ruin everything, spit all over the place… Its happened before.
So I stay. I cant bear to leave my own home to fate.
While the children were small, our differences didnt glare so muchI didnt have the time or energy to reflect, to listen to myself.
Now, with only us left under this roof, it is just unbearable. Two strangers, under one roof even after thirty-eight years.
Yes Dad was right. The mind, the intellectits always been between us.
