Zane_thor

I like to write stories.. Here's one about me and my wife and our parents.

When I first got married, my wife and I decided that we would split holidays. Thanksgiving would be spent with one set of parents and Christmas would be spent with the other set. This was before we had children, as the holidays were approaching, my wife and her mother was having a disagreement. It was very bitter, so much so that my wife dragged me into it. I can't remember the extent of the argument but I called her mother and told her she needed to get herself together and I would not be having this any more. She sputtered something about calling me back and that she couldn't talk about it now could we discuss this later. Fine, I hung up the phone.

I thought about it and I was sure she was not going to call me back. I felt so right in my indignation. There was no way I could be wrong. I was not going to stand for this type of behavior from adults, even those adults who were now in my family. These people needed to learn how we did things.

A couple of days later my wife came to me. "Zane, are we still going to my mom's for thanksgiving."

I nearly laughed at her. "Has your mom called to tell us how sorry she is for the way she's been talking about us?"
"No."

"Then I guess the answer to your question is the same as the answer to my question" I said it with an air of self-righteousness.

"Zane, this is my parents were talking about. They are expecting us for Thanksgiving. What will they think if we don't go?" she said starting to get angry.

"I guess they'll think something is wrong. Which by the way, is exactly what the problems is", my frustration was matching her.

"Zane, please reconsider, I really want to go home for thanksgiving."

"Hey, if you want to go, then go. Nobody's is stopping you. But I am not going so we can act like everything is honky dory".

"Fine, I'll go."

"If you go, you go without me."

"Well I guess that's just how it'll be."

"Remember, if they ask you "is something wrong" you might want to clue them in by yelling, "You're getting hotter."" I said with sarcasm seeping through.

"Thanks... Thanks a lot"

She left the room, I stood there feeling triumphant. Yeah I could have been nicer but really you can't expect me to be this nice.

On Wednesdays the day before Thanksgiving, I went to her and asked, "So, what's the plan". We hadn't been talking for most of the week, and I was trying one last ditch effort to get her to see things my way.

"I'm working on this crossword, that's the plan for now." She knew I came to sway her to my way of thinking. And this introduction was like watching the first round of boxing. Each boxer sizing up the other with a few jabs, both protecting what was precious to them. But at the same time trying desperately to push and advantage.

"I don't mean now, I mean tomorrow" I said covering up a bit.

"Well, my guess is, you're not going, and I am going. So, you'll be hungry and I'll be full. That's the plan". Her jab was direct and hit me square in the jaw.

"It doesn't have to be that way" I moved back trying to get my balance.

"Yeah, that's true you can come with me and we'll both be full." She moved in and struck again the left connecting with the jaw. I was staggered by this shot and this was only the first round.

"Let's not fight" I was against the ropes I needed her to calm down before I could mount any type of assault.

"We're not fighting" she said as she got up, closed her crossword book, and walked out of the room. It was the classic one two. She struck with a dazzling right cross and then nailed me again as I was going down with a brilliant left hook. I was out cold standing in an empty room.

I didn't want her to go alone. I didn't think she was strong enough to face that on her own. Boy was I wrong and she was showing me how wrong I was. It was late about 11:30 the night before Thanksgiving. I sat looking at our apartment wall. My anger and my shame mounting, someone must understand what I'm going through. There must be someone who can see as I do.

My parents had called earlier in the week trying to get me to come to mom's for thanksgiving. I told them I wasn't so they shouldn't plan on me. But now with no where to go for Thanksgiving and the prospect of being hungry on turkey day I needed a back up plan. I got up and drove the 20 mins to my parents. I wanted to let them know I was coming and to commiserate with my dad for a few minutes.

When I got home it looked as if everyone was sleeping. I entered the house quietly and went to my parent's room. They were sleeping with the door wide open. I walked into their room and shook my dad awake. Even as an old man he had reflexes that shocked me. He grabbed my wrist, pulled me close to his face. He then opened his eyes and looked me squarely in the face and said "Wa?" In a groggy tone of someone who had been a sleep for a while.

"Dad, dad, it's me, let go." My hand had lost all circulations to it and was starting to get tingly.
"What, what happen?" He was still trying to bring himself back into the world of the walking.
"Dad, my hand, let me go!" I said it quietly but with enough urgency he understood that he held his son not some un-seen assailant. Mom stirred under the covers, so dad laid a reassuring hand on her arm and she returned to her much needed sleep.

I walked out, now that I knew dad was awake. It only took a minute to find his laval-laval. He came into the living-room where I sat waiting for him.

"What happened?" he asked

I gave him the short version. He looked at me as if to say, see I told you. Then spent the next twenty minutes reminding me that I had not listened to him about marring a palangi girl, and this is the type of stuff I could expect. As he continued on his rant I thought, yep, I was wrong, but she should have done as I told her. Clearly, any good Samoan women would have done as I had asked. After listening to my dad, I was not going to back down. There was just no way.
The next morning Amelia was gone before I woke up. I staggered to the shower after my long night with dad and got dressed. I drove back to my parents house it was noon and as I had expected, there was already a crowd. Family had gathered there with intent of feasting Samoan style. We ate and laughed, ate and slept and then ate some more. I had a couple of questions about where my wife was. Everyone that asked had a look like they knew it wasn't roses in paradise, but I could handle it. It was a great feast. My mom went all out. Her sister came in like a relief pitcher with more food. It was the way I remember turkey day being since I was a kid. I truly enjoyed myself. On occasion I found myself looking out the window longingly wondering where my wife was. But it was only brief moments that stole a glimpse into my otherwise happy day.

At the end of the day I sat with my mother. It was just the two of us. Sitting in the dining room together. Dad was watching the game in the living room and everyone else had someplace they had to be. So I sat with my mother and she had some questions.
"Zane," she said, "where's your wife?"

At first I thought this was a type of joke. She knew where Amelia was, she had heard me all day long tell everyone that she was at her moms. But her tone seemed to be saying soberness was required here. "She's at her mom's"

"Zane," she spoke again as if I hadn't answered, "Where's your wife?"

"Mom," I said it this time as if perhaps my mother was losing her hearing "She's at her MOM's".

"ZANE," I was expecting her to yell this time but as she spoke the second part of her questions her voice got quiet and almost whispered "and where are you".

I was confused. What kind of questions was this? I'm sitting here with YOU in YOU'RE dining room. I looked at her like she was crazy and my body language said "Hello?" but my lips remained silent.

"Dad told me about the talk you had last night. He told me that your wife and her mother had a fight. So I ask you again where are you and where is your wife?"

I wanted to yell I'm here answering these silly questions. And Amelia's having dinner with her crazy mom. But I had learned years ago not to answer, to sit until she revealed what she wanted me to understand.

"You sent your wife into the lions den without any support. You knew your wife would be struggling with her mother. You knew that her mother would only use the fact that you’re not their as a weapon against her and yet here you are."

"No mom, you're getting this all wrong" my temper that I inherited from my mother started to flare. "You don't understand, she's wrong. She should have listened to me. I'm right, we can't keep pretending that everything's ok. Her mother needs to see she can't treat us like this." But as I said it, it became clear. I was sitting in this dinning room not for my wife's benefit but for my own selfish reason. Pride had brought me to this place, pride had blinded me to what should have been so obvious. My wife had needed my help either to not go or for me to go with her as a show of my love for her.

As if she could read my mind my mother looked at me and said, "Yeah, even you see the coward you have been. Your fight is over, you lost. Don't come to my house to hide from your responsibility as a husband." She stood from the dinner table and walked to sit near my father.
I watched as this stout older woman walked away from me. My heart that had been light all day long was now down in the depths of sorrow. I had lost this fight. But I would not forget it. In these questions mom had taught me to stop thinking of myself, to start thinking about my wife. This woman who reluctantly okayed my marriage was now helping me maintain it. I got in my car after our conversation. My mind stuck on what my mother had told me.

When I got home Amelia was there already there. She was going about her every day business as if nothing had happened. For a while I watched her walked around the apartment taking care of this and that. Getting ready for bed I thought how I loved this girl. She had this sexy red hair that fell down her back. Her face had this innocence that I loved. I could spend the rest of my life watching her. My heart broke again this argument had caused us to go opposite directions today.

As she walked past me I grabbed her hand. She stopped and looked at me I drew her close to me. I held her body close to mine and breathed in the scent of her. I whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry”. She hugged me tightly and with a whisper, “me too”. We spent a couple of hours talking that night. I told her I didn’t want to spend anymore holidays apart. She told me she agreed. In that humble apartment we agreed that we had a family that was more important then our separate families. In that apartment we became truly man and wife.