Middle Class Love #Wattys2015

Courtesy Calls

D.D.

The meeting with the client went well. She was happy with the ads and left after paying us the cash.

I returned home early and decided to grab a frappe at the cafe downstairs. Rosh would always reach home by eight post the Malaria episode. He'd gotten strangely intimate. It struck me how just one illness that brought him on the verge of death could change the intimacy levels of our relationship. Sometimes he'd surprise me with dinners, he'd replace football time with listening to me rant about my day..a lot of changes happened. But I knew that this couldn't last for long. John Grey alluded to rubber bands while referring to the way husbands give love. The rubber band would snap and constrict when it was stretched out too much. If Rosh would snap anytime sooner, it would be a terrible thing. I prepared myself to face the inevitable. Never did I realize that it could be so imminent.

Rosh didn't turn up at 8 PM. I was beginning to get frantic. People had advised me to have a truckload of courage as I was married to a journalist. Death could come anytime. Sometimes, I hated the careless daredevil that Rosh was. Even after nearly widowing me on his return from SA, his daredevilry didn't die down.

I called him once. He never picked up. I called him again. He never picked up. I called ten times, same reply. On the eleventh try I was notified that his cellphone was switched off. Was he pissed? At least he could forward me a busy template on the phone. that would have put my fears to rest.

I worried too much for his safety. In a fit of panic I reached two of his colleagues and inquired about him. He was away on an assignment. What assignment, they didn't know.

I prepared dinner for the two of us, hoping that he'd turn up at least by 10 PM. No sign of him.

I called a record twenty times in a row. The phone was switched off. Rosh would never change. What an uncaring turd!

Sleep evaded me that night. I sat on the sofa and closed my eyes for the occasional wave of sleep to hit me. Black and yellow dots formed shifting, hazy patterns before me. It was 2:30 AM.

I fiddled with my cellphone for a while. I sent Rosh a WhatsApp message asking him if he were fine.

Finally, the front door opened at 4:00 AM. A very tired Rosh tumbled inside. I ran to remove the laptop bag from his shoulders. As my hands flew to his spectacles, he swung me around and roughly pulled me closer to him. My face hit his chest and he yelled "Do you smell a woman on me, Monica?" I was shocked by this sudden outburst. "Rosh, I never said that you have cheated on me!". "Woman" he yelled "Answer my question". I meekly muttered a no. He let go of me and slammed his fist on the dining table "Why were there forty missed calls from your number if you didn't doubt me?". I held him by his necktie and yelled "I was worried for your safety. Who would want to see her husband dead?". His eyes blazed with anger "Monica, I can take care of myself, okay. You needn't interfere."

I was angry now "Roshan Alexander, your bachelor days are over. Why didn't you text me that you'd be late? It wasn't emasculation to do so!"

I let go of his tie and walked to the bedroom. He roared from the dining room "Yeah, sure. Arrange an ambulance and a coffin the next time I turn up late.!" He was being stupid. I was just tired to reply.

Not-so-lovingly Yours

M.L.R