during preparatory meetings, that on the D-day, I will still be late; I was seriously upset with myself.
We were now panicking in the bedroom, searching for my phone everywhere, turning the room upside-down, such a huge crime for orderly people like us. Fortunately, after a tiring search, my wife found it. The phone had found itself under the bed.
“Baby, this is it! This is it!” She yelled while brandishing the phone as if it was a piece of gold discovered in the depths of a mine in Katanga.
“Give it to me!” I shouted at her harshly, far from the usual sweetness that comes with every word I address to her.
As my eyes fell on the phone screen, my entire body sank into a reel nightmare; my initial fears were confirmed and he was indeed the author of the phone call. I had to face my blame, no other choice! With a high level of anxiety, holding the phone with a trembling hand, I pressed the green button and accepted the call with nervousness, ready to hear the unmerciful sanctions that would come.
“Hello sir, yes sir…”
As if the situation wasn’t tense enough, while I was struggling to fight the torturous stress, Caroline was adding more nervousness by mumbling her frustration behind me. She was still possessed by the irritation I provoked in her by addressing her rudely a minute ago. Gladly, we came back to a better mood after the phone conversation ended. There was enough reason to make us forget the previous frictions we had; Mister Minister was calling me not to shout at me but to inform me of the cancelation of the show in favor of a different activity in the afternoon. I had free time to spend at home, and I was not the only one to appreciate that.
“It’s not bad news. At least, you will eat something and rest,” she said while arranging our room that was not all fit to be seen. Five minutes later, the tension was totally erased after I asked forgiveness for my attitude and blamed the fear of sanction; she happily accepted my pardon and went to the kitchen to make a good meal for me.
Just sometime later, my nose caught a pleasant aroma of a boiled egg while I was dressing the table. Caroline was a very talented cook, as good as a five-star chef of a New York restaurant. This was one of the first qualities that seduced me when we started dating; her cuisine was an aphrodisiac.
I was now on the table, waiting for her to bring the delicious meal when I saw her coming with dishes so full that some bread was almost falling from it.
“Wow, baby! This is too much, I hope it’s for both of us?” I said while looking at her with a bothered face. After replying to me with a scornful smile, she shook her head negatively.
This was too much. She slid four slices of bread, five boiled eggs, and avocado salad into my plates; I was full even before I could start eating. The mere view of all this food ended my hunger and finishing this food without suffocations at the end seemed impossible. As my clear lack of appetite was reflected in my body language and after she saw how I was struggling, she felt enjoyed encouraging me to the task with some special words.
“Eat baby, you need to eat. See how dry you are. Soon, your mother will call me to complain about your thinness,” she said with an unhappy look.
My size had always been a controversial topic in my family. For my mother, I was thinner now than I was in my jobless days. For her, it was unacceptable to see a wealthy person like me continue to look like I was emaciated. I needed to reflect all the blessings I received in my life and not keep on being that permanent testimony of our financial difficulties of ten years ago. That’s why on every phone call with Caroline, especially whenever she was just from seeing me, my mum never lost the occasion to remind her about how correct my diet should be. This was an implicit way to hold her responsible for my thinness. The consequence of this was full dishes like the one of that day and a funny transfer of pressure on me as I was obligated to finish every plate served by Caroline herself. This was such regular and severe torture for me; even if I was satiated nothing should remain on the table if I didn’t want to attract her anger and complaints. Eating in her presence became a valuable act of bravery; unhappily, I barely escaped to this totalitarian issue.
With the intention of changing the mood to a better and happy one after she provoked this gloomy atmosphere we were captive to two minutes later, Caroline brought out a conciliating subject while we were still on the table. Knowing that most of the time, I agreed with her whenever she complained about how stressful my work schedule was; she didn’t hesitate to talk about that.
“Seriously, I don’t get the way your administration works. I mean, with all this preparation, and then finally, they just canceled the interview like that?” She said while I was struggling to swallow bread.
“I swear, that’s terrible…” I said after drinking a cup of juice.
Even though her remark sounded like a lame tactic to reduce my annoyance against her, she was right; we had been in a traumatizing pressure since the first hours of the day, all for nothing. I was still feeling the pain of this tension; I forced myself to bathe with cold water because of rushing; I suffered to change suits many times to look good in the way my wife wanted, all this to finally hear that they changed the planning. Alas! This was just a symbolic example of my difficulties through all this period as everybody in new functions… The Minister couldn’t take all the blame even if most of the time, it was my fear towards an eventual sanction from him that was stressing me up. He had always been nice to me; I don’t even remember a single criticism from him about me. But because of all the nervousness that was going on in our ministry, I preferred panic that much but still prevented myself from ever testifying the dark side of our boss.
It was because of this same tension in our office plus, the multiple solicitations from the Minister I had to postpone my holidays. My decision really hurt Caroline that it took some months for her to finally accept it. Even though she had never explicitly complained, it was easy to see how upset she was only by noticing her moody behavior during that period. But I had no choice; I was on probation, so my dedication to work was particularly high. How could we survive if I was not confirmed? How could we pay bills? Who would have taken care of the school fees of our children? What of the house under construction? It hadn’t been an easy decision to take. I knew how difficult it was to be the wife of a busy man like me. Since my childhood, because of my parents, I also loved to spend time with my family, I needed that. My annual leave has always been special; a great celebration of love and care, a manifestation of happiness and joy, with Caroline always smiling and cheerful. Whenever I’m home with her, she would put some music, do her housework with an unusual gaiety, narrate some of her family stories that I already knew with passion. She would put on her most beautiful gown, make her face look younger with secret make-up. We would hang out in the streets romantically; hold hands and kiss publicly. Sometimes, we would return to the restaurant of our first date, enjoy peaceful and joyful moments as those of when we were still two young persons with no money, no kids and no job solicitation worries. Some other times, I will follow her to do shopping, endure to stay on a queue to buy a revolutionary product, a trending shoe or a unique fragrance. We would go back home, chilling and enjoying movies, most of the time, romantic ones, as she always preferred. After a scene, she would reminisce how it was difficult for me to convince her for a date. Then we would reminisce our sweet days in the past as if tomorrow won’t exist. She would laugh, smile; her skin color would turn red because she laughed too much. I’m always like a small child who is enjoying firewood in those days; it is so amazing to see her like that.
But I had to painfully accept to wait a long time before seeing this happiness on her face again. The
