Lives Between Walls

Things had changed between us. Even though he wouldn’t admit, but you could just feel that it wasn’t the same anymore. I gazed at myself in the mirror. The dim light from that ensuite illuminated my youthful skin. I was still the same girl. Not a spot in sight. I hadn’t changed. I was still the same Palesa he fell for a year ago. I was the girl he had said was the queen of his heart and his treasure. What had happened between then and today that changed us this way? If you know please tell me. I don’t know what else to do. Perhaps I need to try a different hairstyle? Maybe I’ve become boring and I need to try on a different personality? Maybe I need to bring out the ‘daring and feisty Palesa.’ Isn’t that what we all do anyway? We go through our closets and pull out clothes, personalities, and behaviors so we can fit in, or be liked. Like actors on stage, whose performance is manipulated to suit the audience. “Honey?” Greg called from the bedroom, “Are you coming to bed or what?” I called out to him in response, “I’m coming honey, just getting my bra undone,” I said as I began undoing the straps. These particular ones were quite tricky to get undone. It’s almost like they needed two people. I recall on our honeymoon two years ago at the Maldives, Greg had helped me take it off. I remember it was a riot. We were in the heat of passion, hands everywhere, kissing passionately, until the same bra got in the way. It literally took us 10 minutes to get the damn thing off. “Are you kidding me?” he had laughed in exasperation as his fingers struggled behind my back. When it finally came off, we had pounced on each other like two starved lions. What a night that was. That was the last time I saw Greg – well the version of him I loved. The black diamond ring on my finger was the souvenir of having known him.

I smiled and got into the bed and shuffled next to him. He smiled at me and lay there, staring into empty space. “Aren’t you going to put your arms around me love?” I asked him. He turned to me, “Of course love, sorry.” He reached out and put them around me. “My mind is just so occupied lately with -“

“Work?” I finished the sentence for him. He chuckled, “Am I that predictable?” He questioned pretending to be offended. “Well… I just remember the days when I was the one who occupied your mind love,” I replied making a childish frown. He was quiet. I glanced at him, “Well, aren’t you going to reassure me?”

“Ncah. Of course you still occupy my mind love,” he said. “It’s just that marriage comes with a set of responsibilities as well. Now I need to provide for my family, plan for the future, and all that, you know? We are not dating anymore where we could just be preoccupied with each other only.” We were silent for a while. The silence was good. I didn’t want to start another fight, but I just had to get this off my chest you know? Greg usually says women are infamous for that, when things are going well, it’s almost as though they go looking for things to argue about. Well I was not going to be that woman this time, so I was not going to say anything.

Finally he grunted, “Okay Palesa, goodnight.” I was stunned. This man was not being serious. “So you’re just gonna go to sleep like that?” I snapped. He seemed indifferent. “Well we don’t really have much to say to each other so I don’t see the point of -“

“The point is to connect Greg!”

“Well let’s connect then. Say something.”

“I feel you’re not the same person you were before our honeymoon Greg.”

“There you go again, ruining a perfectly good moment Palesa.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to ruin something that is already in ruins!”

“Palesa, you’re being emotional. You should calm down and let’s talk about this tommorow. Because I don’t think I can talk to you when you are like this.”

“Oh so I’m the one with the problem here?!”

“Goodnight Palesa,” yawned Greg as he turned to face the other side of the bed. I was flabbergasted. Do you see what I am talking about? It’s almost like he has checked out emotionally. “Don’t put me on the shelf again!” I yelled. I couldn’t take it, I felt my face heating up and my eyes welling up with tears. I started sobbing. A chivalrous Greg simply grabbed a pillow and covered his ears. I slumped onto my pillow in defeat and cried myself to sleep once again.

From a young age, I was always the girl that was made of gold. I was beautiful, intelligent, funny or “the full package” as guys would refer to me. I was the perfect woman. Greg was always the achiever, even at school he would excel in his athletics and swimming. I was probably just another trophy to him – and that is the tragedy of beautiful women. And the day he saw me, he had set out to win me. He pursued me, he made me weak in the knees with blow after blow of unrelenting kindness – like a tranquilizer dart to paralyze the savage beast. After he had won me, my fate was the same as that of all his other trophies, I sat on the shelf. I am polished, cleaned and given a place of honor. I am showcased at dinner parties and his social gatherings. “Wow Greg, you are a lucky man. What a beautiful woman,” his friends would say. He would smirk as he received the praise that he so desperately desires.

It’s a shame that what he desired more was the praise of other people more than that of his wife’s. That’s what this was all about, this whole marriage was just Greg’s victory.