HOUND

xxxiii

Nina was getting crankier each visit. Jack's wife didn't understand why, perhaps it was a side-affect of old age. But there was something different about Nina. Her cough, her walk, her smile (or lack thereof)...there was a hidden message to it.

Jack's wife desperately wanted to find it out. In her mind's eye, she still saw Nina as young and beautiful. And in many ways, Jack's wife was a little in love with Nina. She couldn't tell if it was romantic, or if it was simply familial. Was Nina a mother, grandmother--or sister figure? Jack's wife didn't know how to interpret her affection. With Jack, her feelings were always easy to see. She never questioned being in love with him, because she didn't know of any other option.

Nina had made tea. Chamomile, her favorite. Jack's wife wasn't sure if she liked the tea. It wasn't particularly nasty, but it also wasn't delicious either. She drank it not for pleasure or politeness, but simply for the fact that Nina had made it. For Jack's wife, any little act of kindness or love (no matter how routine) meant something extraordinary to her.

Nina sets down her tea cup with a clank. "You have no self-identity." She says suddenly.

Jack's wife coughs, choking on her hot tear. It dribbles out of her mouth and onto her skirt. She dabs at her mouth with the back of her hand, sloppily. Wide-eyed--the deer-in-headlights look--she gapes her mouth like a fish. What do you mean? She wants to ask. But the words are jumbled in her throat. She had forgotten how to speak. It wasn't like Nina's statement was that harsh, since Jack's wife didn't even take it to harsh. But it was the way Nina said it--it was the look in her eyes. Hopelessness.

Nina leans forward, her face close to Jack's wife's. Jack's wife can feel Nina's breath against her cheek. It smells like Chamomile and medication.

"Who are you?" Nina asks. "You're just a faceless, nameless label. 'Jack's wife'. Is that all you are? His wife, and nothing else? What are your hobbies, your dreams? Don't you ever want to be something, besides someone's wife?"

She shrugs, setting her teacup and plate aside. "It's great to be a wife, it's great to love and be loved. But you shouldn't make that your purpose in life: you shouldn't act like that's the only thing that can confirm your worth and validate you. You've spent your life searching for someone to love you like that--but you don't even love yourself. And that's really sad, okay? It's tragic." She shakes her head.

Jack's wife is paralyzed, barely processing Nina's words.

"Everything about you is tragic." Nina sighs. "But I don't pity you, not at all. I don't feel sorry for you. I mean, you put yourself there, you know? It's your fault you're like this. Society plays a part, too, because they told you to be like this. But you chose to follow it: you chose to focus on all the wrong things. You're needy and dependent on other people.  You hate the idea of being alone--not just being lonely. I think that's part of why Jack spiraled, as harsh as it sounds. You're too much."

Tears well in Jack's wife's eyes. The words hurt, albeit their truth.

Nina waves a hand, dismissing her last remark. "No, I take that back. That's not true. You're not enough--you have no personality. Do you even know who are you? Who are you, really? If you don't know, then who do you want to be?"