Martha stood with her arms folded, biting her bottom lip slightly and her eyes glossed over with moisture. It didn’t take a genius to tell that she was in one of her moods, which was lucky because Ben was no genius. The strange thing was she seemed fine just moments ago when he’d brought her a coffee.
‘What’s up with you?’ Ben was
hoping that the mood had been caused by the incessant barking of the neighbour’s
dog or the relentless nagging of her boss but there was something about her
body language that suggested that he was the cause of her wrath.
Martha looked at Ben like
she’d just found out that he’d voted Tory, she rolled her eyes and turned away,
staring out of the window like some wronged heroine in a period drama.
Ben’s shoulders dropped, he
knew how to get Martha out of a generic bad mood but when she was upset with
him he had no idea.
‘What is it love?’ He asked
more in hope than expectation of an answer.
Martha never told him why she was upset with him, it was up to him to
try to guess but knowing how her brain worked and how his brain worked that was
often easier said than done.
The problem was that Martha
had two distinct personalities, sometimes she was as carefree as a butterfly on
a summer’s day but other times she was sensitive to everything and anything. Ben
on the other hand breezed through life saying things and doing things without
too much thought which meant it was easy for him to put his foot in it without even realising. So when, like
now Ben was asked to reflect on what he’d done he would either be completely
clueless or he could think or 7 or 8 potential ‘reasons’.
Despite only being able to
see the back of her head, he could tell by the look on her face that he was now
expected not only to apologise for what he’d done wrong, but also tell her
exactly what it was and why it was wrong.
He approached her and put his
hands on her shoulders but her shrug was like an electric shock. He jumped
back. His flight or fight instinct told him to run away but he’d learnt from
bitter experience that that would only make matters worse because at some stage
he would have to come back. He took a deep breath.
‘Look is it because I forgot
to put the washing on this morning.’
Martha turned to look at him.
‘You what? Ben! You know I
need that blue shirt for my meeting tomorrow.’ Martha stormed from the room
into the kitchen to fill the washing machine.
Shit thought Ben, not only
did I miss, but I’ve given her something else to be angry at me for. He followed
her into the kitchen thinking hard.
‘Okay, I’m really sorry I
said I didn’t want your mother to come next weekend, she can come if you really
want her to.’
‘I’d forgotten about that,’
Martha said coldly, ‘but now you come to mention it that was pretty selfish of
you. You know she’s had a hard time recently. But it’s too late now.’ Martha marched
back into the living room, Ben trotting along behind.
None from two, Ben thought, and
each miss was just helping to dig the hole a little deeper. Better to quit
while he was ahead or third time lucky?
‘So is it because I’ve
arranged to go out on Saturday night?’
‘Ben? You promised me you’d
watch the rugby then come home.’
This was getting ridiculous,
every time he opened his mouth he was just giving her more ammunition.
‘Okay, I give up? Whatever I
did, I didn’t mean it and I’m sorry, you know that I’m an idiot at times. I’m sorry
okay.’
‘Sorry, sorry, and you don’t
even know what for? Ben how long have we been together?’ She didn’t wait for an
answer. ‘And how many times have you made me a coffee?’ Again the question was
purely rhetorical but she pointed at the cup on the coffee table.
Ben looked at it and it
slowly dawned on him. 5 years they’d been together, 100s 1000s of coffees had been
made and this was the first time he’d ever put milk in her coffee.
Ben laughed, is that all it
was. But as soon as he saw the look on Martha’s face he stopped.
‘Who is she?’ Martha stared at him, tapping her
foot, awaiting an answer. She’d put 2 and 2 together and come up with 5.
hhaha.... of course she is right. What else could it be?:)
ReplyDeleteDigging a little deeper could become on the drop.. that last drop in the ocean to turn the tide.. or better saying the straw that broke the camel's back :-0
ReplyDelete..Anyway I don't care about Marta..If besides put the washing and make coffee, Ben also cleans the house .. I want to know him! :-)
In the end the Party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it. It was inevitable that they should make that claim sooner or later: the logic of their position demanded it. Not merely the validity of experience, but the very existence of external reality, was tacitly denied by their philosophy. The heresy of heresies was common sense. And what was terrifying was not that they would kill you for thinking otherwise, but that they might be right. For, after all, how do we know that two and two make four? Or that the force of gravity works? Or that the past is unchangeable? If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable — what then?
ReplyDeleteI suddenly remembered this story as I often demonstrate the same think inf process as Martha does. I with i could replace my female brain with sth else
ReplyDeleteI wish
ReplyDelete