The History Of You And Me

March 2022.

They blame it all on me. They all do.

His coworkers, our friends, my family, and pretty much every person that we know.

'You're a brat and you think you live in a fairytale world.'
Those were my mother's exact words.

They say he tries to give me the world and all I do is complain about it. That I don't appreciate his hard work and dedication to me.

Dad says I bring up problems, like my sister. It was the first time I'd heard him say her name in years.

They say many more things about me and our marriage that I don't wish to repeat, but the trend is basically that I'm a horrible wife and I don't deserve him.

All I keep thinking about is,

Is it true? Am I really the problem here? Is the reason we're not so great anymore my fault? Have I truly been such a horrible wife? Everyone seems to think so, they must be right then, right?

I sit watching everyone chatter around me, give each other hugs, and enjoy themselves like we're not currently experiencing floods in the city.

I feel numb.

I feel like my whole existence is an out-of-body experience. Like I'm human and I'm surrounded by zombies. Or maybe I'm the zombie.

I'm completely suspended and void of emotion. I don't know how to feel about anything.

"Why don't you help yourself to some comestibles sweetheart? And speak to someone. You're being rude."
I hear my mom whisper beside me with a smile on her face.

I flash her a smile too then stand up to join the nearest group of women in conversation.

"You're Freda's daughter yes? My god, you've grown so much! You're now married to that British fellow aren't you? You're so lucky. He's wonderful."
I respond with a smile.

"Oh yes, everyone says the most amazing things about him. My daughters all have a crush on him. You've really scored a jackpot with that one."
I smile again.

I have become such a pro that my smile doesn't look so fake anymore. The trick is to squint your eyes tight and not look like you're trying too hard. It's worked wonders for me.

"So, when did you join? I don't see you around here often."
I hear one of the ladies ask as I take a piece of shrimp from a nearby table full of platters.

If there's one thing I love about this place, it's the assortment of edibles. I hear they hire a professional crew of chefs specifically for these meet-ups.

"This is my first one."
I pop another piece of shrimp in my mouth.

The chefs definitely know what they're doing.

"That's great. You're lucky you're a legacy. People spend years on the waiting list only to be told they don't qualify."

I decide to put a few more shrimps on a small plate. They taste so good that I might take a few with me home, if it's allowed of course. I wonder if it is. Perhaps I should ask the chef for the recipe.