holiday syndrome

11. the husband

"no man is an island, this i know"

gif: mack

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     MADS was a complicated man. If someone were to ask him what it was about his childhood that fucked him so badly, he wouldn't be able to give a distinct answer. Even if he could, there were few ears that could listen to his words and believe them. He had learned at the moment of his birth that life was not a linear plot with random spontaneity and a one track course. Every decision he made was aligned with map far more intricate than he would ever understand.

      It was not shocking that every choice he had ever made was thought through and careful, weighing down on him like bricks slathered with cement and molded to his back. He carried a restless truth with him wherever he went, one that he would not share with anyone until he was in his twenties.

      That was when he found a girl who saw time and fate in the same light that he saw it.

      Mackenzie was the girl men dreamed of but shied from when coming face to face with them. She was intimidating in ways many did not understand, especially because they could not fathom the power she held in her lithe body. She was a piece of art and it was easy to forget that she was also quite human. That was why he had asked her to marry him so quickly, because it felt good to have someone by his side that could be strong for the both of them.

      Mackenzie's birthday came along quickly, too quickly, leaving Mads in a state of panic over whether or not he was supposed to do something intimate or to throw a party. Parties were not his thing; they meant socializing, drinking and managing to hold his tongue. All things that he was not exactly known for doing well. But he knew that his wife was not the sort to go small when celebrating, which meant that throwing a party was his only option.

      He had been planning for many weeks, hoping to make the perfect event to impress her and hopefully remind her that he existed. She had a knack for getting lost in the business of her work and making him feel completely invisible. He would be angry, truly, but he did the exact same thing to her. He didn't even have an excuse, his work was nothing exciting and he had few friends. Sometimes he just forgot how to talk to her.

      It was held at a club, the same one that Mads met Mackenzie at for the second time before they were dating. He remembered every single part of that night with her even though he had been overly intoxicated. He'd spent the entire night pining after her, desperate for the words that would win her over. Men like him didn't deserve women like her.

     It was funny how things turned out.

     The club was more full than it had probably ever been, curtesy to the easy access Mads had to all of Mackenzie's friends. She kept a list pinned to the calendar that listed all of the friends she wanted to invited to different parties and so on. She wasn't as predictable as Mads, but she did have habits that were easy to expect.

      "Thank you, baby." Mackenzie placed a delicate kiss on his jaw with lips smothered in a maroon lipstick. She was wearing a tank top and flowy pants made of a silken material paired with sandals, probably an ensemble that was less effortless than it looked. But she could wear anything she wanted to and still look brilliant.

      "I'm not good with holidays," he said apologetically, his lips practically pressed to her ear to ensure she could hear over the thumping music. "I'm glad it's okay."

      She took his face in her hands and smiled sweetly, her eyes perfectly clear in the dark light. "I didn't marry you because I thought you were good at holidays, Mads."