During that first year of marriage, her husband acquired the habit of perusing his laptop at the dining table. He was there a good part of the day, as if the dining table had turned into his office. But his office was on the other side of the house; he’d been working from home since the pandemic. Nevertheless, papers were starting to collect on his side of the dining table; boxes and books were piling up on either side of his chair.
At first her thought was to to help him out. She’d walk by the table on her way to another room and turn the dimmer down low. After all, if he were looking at a screen he didn’t need the light. Wasn’t it healthier? Easier to see the screen? She wasn’t sure.
On the way back, she might catch him reading a book or writing something. Then she’d turn the light up higher. After all, If he were looking at actual paper he needed the light. She didn’t want him to strain his eyes.
She did a lot more walking around the house than he did. Once he got to the dining table he’d be there for hours. “You should get up every 45 minutes or so,” she told him. “Stretch. Move around! I’m worried about your health!” He assured her that he got plenty of exercise at other times, but she had no proof of that. On an impulse, she pressed the light off and back on.
“Stop that!” he said loudly. Something about his reaction must have been satisfying to her. This was the start of her pressing the light off and on every time she walked by. If the light was already low and he was involved in something online, he wouldn’t notice. If he were reading or writing on paper, he’d definitely notice, but for a couple of weeks he never said anything more than, “Stop that!”
Then one day, about the time this habitual action of hers became an unconscious tic and she was already in the next room after pressing the light off and on once again, he jumped up from the table, pursued her, grabbed her by the shoulder, put his face close to hers, and yelled, “STOP THAT!”
“What?! she asked. “Stop WHAT?!”
“The light, the light!” He let her go and was now on the verge of tears. “What are you trying to do to me?”
Suddenly she realized what her gesture was about. It was mixed up in her mind with saying “Hi there,” a greeting. She had simply wanted attention, just a moment of his attention, as a person passing another person on the sidewalk might say “Hello,” and hope for at least a nod in return.
“I can’t ignore you,” she said. “I can’t ignore you when you sit there. I want to talk. I want you to talk to me. But I know I shouldn’t disturb you! But there you are! I want to say Hello!”
“Do you want me to go back to my office? I thought you would like me to be where you could see me and I could see you!”
“YES! Go back to your office!”
It took a while for him to collect his books and papers and mail. He gave her sad looks while doing so. She couldn’t believe the whole thing had been about being NEAR her. It was a half-assed kind of closeness, if you asked her. The kind of non-interaction that long-married folks had.
She remembered something, maybe from a song: How can I miss you if you won’t go away?
“I’ll miss you too,” she said. “See you at dinner.”
— Macoff
At first her thought was to to help him out. She’d walk by the table on her way to another room and turn the dimmer down low. After all, if he were looking at a screen he didn’t need the light. Wasn’t it healthier? Easier to see the screen? She wasn’t sure.
On the way back, she might catch him reading a book or writing something. Then she’d turn the light up higher. After all, If he were looking at actual paper he needed the light. She didn’t want him to strain his eyes.
She did a lot more walking around the house than he did. Once he got to the dining table he’d be there for hours. “You should get up every 45 minutes or so,” she told him. “Stretch. Move around! I’m worried about your health!” He assured her that he got plenty of exercise at other times, but she had no proof of that. On an impulse, she pressed the light off and back on.
“Stop that!” he said loudly. Something about his reaction must have been satisfying to her. This was the start of her pressing the light off and on every time she walked by. If the light was already low and he was involved in something online, he wouldn’t notice. If he were reading or writing on paper, he’d definitely notice, but for a couple of weeks he never said anything more than, “Stop that!”
Then one day, about the time this habitual action of hers became an unconscious tic and she was already in the next room after pressing the light off and on once again, he jumped up from the table, pursued her, grabbed her by the shoulder, put his face close to hers, and yelled, “STOP THAT!”
“What?! she asked. “Stop WHAT?!”
“The light, the light!” He let her go and was now on the verge of tears. “What are you trying to do to me?”
Suddenly she realized what her gesture was about. It was mixed up in her mind with saying “Hi there,” a greeting. She had simply wanted attention, just a moment of his attention, as a person passing another person on the sidewalk might say “Hello,” and hope for at least a nod in return.
“I can’t ignore you,” she said. “I can’t ignore you when you sit there. I want to talk. I want you to talk to me. But I know I shouldn’t disturb you! But there you are! I want to say Hello!”
“Do you want me to go back to my office? I thought you would like me to be where you could see me and I could see you!”
“YES! Go back to your office!”
It took a while for him to collect his books and papers and mail. He gave her sad looks while doing so. She couldn’t believe the whole thing had been about being NEAR her. It was a half-assed kind of closeness, if you asked her. The kind of non-interaction that long-married folks had.
She remembered something, maybe from a song: How can I miss you if you won’t go away?
“I’ll miss you too,” she said. “See you at dinner.”
— Macoff
Oh my goodness, you captured pandemic marriage in a few hundred words. Well done! Brought to mind a little ditty that went around during those dark days: " After two weeks of quarantine, Gertrude decided to knit her husband a scarf; it was a noose!" Loved your writing. Very successful piece.
ReplyDeleteI remember reading a book called You Just Don't Understand by Deborah Tannen about the totally different communication styles of men and women. Your writing has it pegged.
ReplyDelete