Sister.

14

Michael was worried about his wife. Ever since her sister died she’d become recluse. It was over two months now and she still had not left the house, except for early morning jogs, a routine which she had only just adopted.

Every morning she would leave the house, and jog round the block until she couldn’t go any farther, and was on the verge of collapse. When she got back, Michael would have been long gone to work. Of the two sisters, Precious was the more athletic. It was she who feared getting cardiovascular disease and it was she who went on jogs. Their grandmother and aunt had both suffered from heart disease.

Michael didn’t  find it too strange that Tina was now doing as her sister once did, he thought of it as  her way of coping. A way to remain connected to her sister. Still, after so long he expected her to have at the very least shown signs of recovery, but the reverse was the case. Everyday she seemed to go farther into her shell. At first he had attributed it to the trauma of loosing her sister, the two had really been close. They were identical but with completely distinct personalities. But they’d gotten along, splendidly and   they’d understood each other more than anyone else did, more than he, more than their parents. so It was no surprise that she was so affected by the death. But he had thought that given time,  she’d get over it or show signs of getting over it. Her eyes when he saw them were always red and glassy, evidence that she’d been crying. When her friends came around she refused to see them. Before now that would have pleased him, he’d always thought the worst of her friends. Now though, when she needed to be around people, she was turning them away. She remained cooped up in her room. Tina had always been the outgoing one, it was Precious who was the loner, so it had come as quiet a surprise for him to see his wife turn away her friends, the same friends he had on several occasion told her to stay away from.

Save for him and probably her parents no other person had seen her, and she seemed quiet content with being by herself.

He was suffering though. She still made his meals, and kept the house in order. breakfast was always ready before he got off to work, the house too was kept in order. But he was a man, he was human, he had needs that went beyond food and an orderly wardrobe. They were never intimate anymore, there was always a reason as to why they couldn’t be intimate. It was either a headache or she wasn’t in the mood, which he knew was a lie. Tina loved sex, probably more than he did. She was always the initiator, but not anymore. The reverse was the case now. When it wasn’t a headache it was her period. She’d used the period excuse three times now, forgetting that he knew when it was her period, and forgetting that periods came just once. When he called her out on it she’d claimed the trauma was causing changes in her body. He did not think it was true, but he let it go.

It wasn’t just sex though, she’d begun to avoid him. She would get up early then make breakfast, then she’d  go out for her morning jog. She would not get back until he went off to work. In the evenings, she’d prepare dinner before he got back and leave it in the microwave while she stayed up in the room by herself. And when he went up to her, she’d be sleeping, or pretending to be sleeping. On The rare occasions when they were both in a room together, and neither was sleeping she would quickly find an excuse to get away. Even when he tried to make conversation, her responses were monotonous and disinterested. And when he tried to touch her, she would either stiffen up or  flinch as if he had a deadly disease she could catch.
This morning when he got down, a breakfast of  pancakes was already served and waiting for him. He knew there’d be a strong put of tea in the kitchen, left there to preserve its heat.
As was now the norm, she was nowhere around. He sat down, said a quick prayer and began to eat. He did not often pray, but once in a while he got the urge to do so. He looked at the clock, noting the time before he started to eat. As he ate he remember that first breakfast a two months back, and how he’d been so hopeful about their marriage, and how glad he was at the change he was seeing. It seemed like such a long time, she had changed, but not in the way he would have liked.

After an hour, and he’d had his fill, he set the rest aside. The food had been delicious,  the dark cloud hanging over her had not marred her cooking, if anything her food tasted better now. He looked at the clock again, an hour had passed an she still hadn’t returned. Today wasn’t going to be like the other days, he’d taken the day off  and was going to wait for her to get back. He got out a chair, and positioned himself in it, such that he was the first thing she saw when she walked in through the door. He sat with his right leg crossed over the left, shaking the right foot lazily as he waited.

Thirty minutes later and the locks turned. Finally, he thought as she came in, then turned to lock the door. Slowly she sank to the floor, her back resting on the door, with eyes closed and mouth open for air. She was all sweaty and still breathing hard. It seemed she had not stopped, but ran all the way to the house.

“Had a good run?” Michael asked. Her yes snapped open, her gaze landing on him.

“It was okay,” she said after some time

“That’s good to know,” He said.

“What are you doing here,” She asked
“I think I live here,” he said.

“Why are you still here,” she asked, ignoring his first response. “Shouldn’t you be at work.”

“I took the day off,” he said, getting out of the chair and walking towards her.
“And your car? Where’s it?
“At the mechanic’s, the wheels needed to be realigned.”

“I see… well, I’m going to take a shower,” she said, again managing to avoid being around him. He was not going to let her go so easily though. He reached out and grabbed her as she walked past him, it was more a lunge than a grab, due to the wide berth she gave as she walked past.

Her body stiffened at his touch. “what’s the hurry? A little sweat never killed anyone,” He said coming so close to her that he could feel her breath. Her breathing, so fast it was almost a pant.

“Michael, please let me go. I’d rather not remain in these clothes for longer than is necessary.

“In the clothes, or around me?” Michael asked.

“I do not know what you’re talking about Michael,” she said, then wrenched her arm out of his grip, sparing him a glance before going up the stairs.

Michael watched her go, feeling several emotions at once. Hurt and anger the foremost of them.

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