Years later, decades actually, she'd stop and wonder why she called him that night, of all the people in her address book.
The memories of the night remain sharp and clear as if it happened yesterday. She could still feel the tension that filled the car as she and her husband left the party. Her husband was mad, not because his boss tried to flirt with her but because she had cold-shouldered his boss. They didn't speak. There was nothing to be said. But every unspoken word filled the void between them; not creating a bridge but carving out a chasm. When he stopped the car, she froze. She could guess what was coming next, but she didn’t want to believe that he was actually going to do what he had always threatened. The car stood at the side of the road, idling; like a hunter waiting for its prey to show itself. But she knew it wasn’t a hunter, it was Jonah’s whale waiting to vomit her from within its belly. She looked straight ahead as if searching for something in the deep darkness of the road ahead. But she could only see as far as the headlights showed her. Although she didn’t look at him, she knew that her husband too was staring ahead not looking at her.
What was he thinking? Did the darkness scare him too? Or was it inviting? Did a life without her seem more attractive? A heavy ball of something formed in the core of her stomach and then it fell. At that moment she knew that he wasn’t going to tell her to get out of the car, but neither was he going to drive home with her in the car.
She reached for the handle and pulled it. The door opened with a soft click. She studied the carmaker’s logo shining on the ground beside the car.
“Beg him. Ask him for forgiveness”, a voice screamed at her from inside her head.
She swung one leg, then another, and before she knew it, she was standing outside the car. The door closed with a thud. Then the car started to move. She stared at it in confusion. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.
How long did she wait there by the side of the road? Even today she had no recollection. Sometimes it feels like it was a few moments and at others like it was hours.
“Hey! What’s up?”
His words shattered the bubble. When had she dialed him? She was surprised that her mobile phone was the only thing she had taken with her when she stepped out.
“Can you come pick me up?”
Who spoke those words? He must have wondered too and realized that it was not the time to ask questions. So he didn’t.
“Send me your location.”
She must have but she couldn’t recollect doing it. She stood by the side of the road enveloped in what seemed like an eternal darkness.
He picked her up and drove her to his home. He made her a hot cup of coffee, and lit a cigarette. Then he sat beside her. For the second time that night, she sat beside a man without needing to say anything.
Two years and an acrimonious divorce later, they were married. He never asked her about that night or any of the nights that preceded that night. Together they created new nights that were filled with joy and laughter. They built a bed that was a haven. Within its boundaries they were safe. Within it, they giggled, touched, loved, dreamed. Within it, they conjured up three wonderful humans.
She stood beside that bed now - afraid of it. He looked peaceful, but he wasn’t anything - not peaceful, not happy, not sad, not angry, not horny. He was just dead.
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