One month's notice

We have been married for 15 odd years, and now I cannot just stand the sight of her. I haven’t broken that to her yet, but I have sent smoke signals. My head was racing. I wanted to let her know, somehow.

That I want a divorce.

My wife did not know I had a mistress. She did not know I love my mistress a lot more. Our life just went on without much incident. But now I had enough. I decided to bite the bullet: throw that into her face and be done with it.

I half expected her to react: burst out with fury and cry her eyes out. But she did not. May be she had expected it to come along. She was quite calm, and that disturbed me. I was guilty. But I had my reasons too. No, I was not in the wrong.

“I need one month's notice.”

Has she gone out of her senses? I would agree with whatever conditions she is going to force on me. “Our son has his exams. I hope you don't mind.”

I did not, at all. But her conditions did not end there.
“Remember you carried me to the door from our bedroom?”
“Yes,” I said in a resigned tone.

“I need you to do it everyday morning and night. Our son must not get wind of the divorce.”

I had a hearty laugh, sharing all this with my mistress. She too agreed I had better do that all just for one month.

When I carried her to the door on the very first day, she was quite heavy. We were close to each other. Her hair was greying, something I had not noticed before. Isn’t this the woman who spent 15 years for me and my son? The moment that thought crept in, I wanted to suppress it. I could not afford to be emotionally weak.

If I get a little late, son would nudge me to remind: ‘Father it’s time to carry mother’. I knew he loved the sight. Days lapsed, and her weight was becoming less. This had been a good workout, I have become strong. But that egoistic thought did not last long.

She was looking for a suitable dress to put on, but it was difficult. All her dresses have become loose. She has become smaller and thinner. I looked at her closely. She has become feeble too.

She never wept in my presence. I have a feeling she must have buried herself in grief on her own. That struck me, but I suppressed emotionally weak thoughts. As the days turned into weeks and weeks almost into a month, I realized what we lacked: intimacy. Our relationship had grown 15 years, but the bond has become only weaker.

Our life together, of course, had taken a toll on her: wrinkles and greying hair, quite opposite of what I admired in my young mistress. All the same I started admiring the little things: the scent of her greying hair and our son tagging along. We could not help but share some sweet nothings. Gradually we all looked forward to that moment. Each time her fragrance gave a new feel. It was a strange sentiment. But seriously, I felt I was part of a family now.

Our days were drawing to an end, slowly. On the final day before I left for work, I remember she greeted me warmly - that, I would never forget. That was enough. I took a decision to turn back.

I drove in an opposite direction to see my mistress.
“Sorry, it’s not going to work. No divorce. We are done.”

I hurried back before she has any chance to respond and change me in any case. I went to a florist and bought the best. She had done her duty, making me happy and proud for 15 years and one more month. I realized this is my chance to return it.

I was not in a mood to work. I drove back home. I was a little surprised when I saw her still in bed. Her body was cold, stiff, and it took some time to realize what I never divined.

She was dead.

“Would you mind if I ask you a question,” Aravinda asked the old man, “You admitted this happened because of your fault. But then you not only survived the shock, but have lived to be 100.”

The old man smiled.
“That’s the important part of the story.”

Aravinda listened with awe, how this centenarian still speaks with clarity.

“Her death was too much for me. I was guilty. I was shocked. Every negative feeling was cursing me. I wanted to kill myself. But Aravinda, I was scared to do that.”

The old man paused.

“On the day she left me once and for all, I reflected on everything. She gave me one month’s notice to love and teach me how to love in return. The door of her heart was open for me whatever I did. Grief filled her life, but she died a happy death. I wanted to give what she deserves.”

“What is it?”

“I still remember the smile cast between those lifeless lips. She was happy, because she lived for a cause. I could not return her love properly. Her death taught me how precious love is. The best way to return her love is to love myself, the one she lived for. I never married again, and totally dedicated myself to charity. Whenever a negative feeling struck me, I remembered her warm greeting and that smile. It made my day happy. That, my friend, is the secret of having lived this far.”

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