Things were never the same

United States

Like many other things we never spoke of that night. Instead he avoided me for a week and bought me new clothes.

That was a trend I'd later noticed with my husband, whenever something happened he never spoke to me about it, he would ignore me and just shower me with gifts.

His time in Ethiopia had come to an, well more like he requested to go back home so his wife could settle in. I cried myself to sleep the night he informed me we would be leaving Ethiopia.

I always thought getting on a plane for the first time would be a magical experience, but it was rather underwhelming. After what felt like forever we finally landed.

I thought his family would come in greet us at the airport, he never spoke of them and I guessed as his wife I would eventually have to meet them but we were greeted by two soldiers or as my husband called them marines apparantly there was a difference, I just didn't care to enquire.

I fell asleep as soon as we got into the car,my husband wrapping his arms around me. I was jolted out of my slumber when the car came to a stop, I looked around and noticed that it was dark.

"Come". My husband said taking my hand into his. He led me into the house as the two soldiers carried our luggage in.

The house was beautiful more beautiful than I'd ever seen. It was big but not too big and I appreciated that.

"You can go take a bath, I'll show you the bathroom". He said before leading me to a large bedroom, the scent of his cologne hit me as soon as we entered and I figured it was his room.

"There's the ensuite". He pointed to a door.

"There's some fresh towels in there, I'll bring you, your pyjamas". He said before walking out of the room. When I finished my bath, I went back into the room and found my pyjamas on the large bed, but my husband was nowhere near in sight. I waited for him, I was scared, it was my first time in a new, a new country, I wanted the comfort of knowing that he was next to me. But he never came home that night, I lost the little trust I was starting to have for him.

My time in the United States was the same as when I was in Addis Ababa. My husband worked long hours sometimes he wouldn't even come home, the house was located just outside the base he worked in.

Though the difference here was that instead of sitting around not doing anything, I could cook and clean and I still continued with my English lessons, I had a new teacher now. Sarah, she was also my friend.

It had been a year, a whole year since I got married, since I last saw or spoke to my family. I only saw news of the war on television, my husband wouldn't tell me anything. People were dying in mass numbers, I wondered if my parents were part of those numbers, if my sister and husband were part.

I was sad.

I was lonely.

His silence was beginning to drive me insane, I wanted to scream at him, to hit, ignite some kind of emotion in him. It was like living with a wall. I never knew when he was angry, when he was sad, when he was happy. I even doubted that he felt any kind of emotion, maybe it was all that medication that made him so cold. All that medication he hid, he didn't think I'd find it. He didn't think I knew that he took his medication with whiskey and would lock himself in his office.

He was a sick man.

In the months we'd been in the states he'd had two of his moments and as always we didn't talk about it.

We didn't talk about anything.

I wondered if he married me just for a warm body, of course he did. What would be another reason. He never talked to me, never spent any time with me, he had a large appetite for sex though, thrice a week was his minimum, though it would depend on if he didn't drink his pills with whiskey. He had tried once but didn't last long, I think that his ego took a blow and he never attempted to try again.