A fiction,by Hoda Nassef
They were separated for two years, almost as long as their marriage lasted. Both were married for the very first time. A marriage arranged by mutual friends, as they had no family or relatives of their own. It seemed like a perfect match, because they both had a lot in common.
They were both inconspicuous. If seen in a crowd, you wouldn’t notice them. They dressed conservatively, and both were timid. Paradoxically, it seemed a miracle that they were both teachers and had to face a battlefield of 50 to 60 pupils daily in their classes. He taught in an “all boys” public school, and she taught in an “all girls” public school.
After two years of separation, they couldn’t remember why they divorced in the first place. Time apparently dims the memory.
Recently, they met again by chance at a school festival. At first they were afraid to talk to each other, but before the day ended, they approached by a mutual friend, and conversation was unavoidable. That same night he phoned her and asked her to meet for tea the following day at the Tea House in the Zoo. At first she thought he was making fun of her. Zoo! Then she remembered that the Tea House was actually quite romantic, with the artificial lake and ducks surrounding it – or, were they swans?
She asked him why he wanted to meet her, and he told her bluntly that he wanted to give their marriage a second chance. Correcting him, she replied: “You mean to give us a second chance. We’re not married anymore.” Silenced for a moment, he agreed, then he re-phrased his question: “Would you like to meet to talk it over, and perhaps set a date for another wedding?”
Both secretly came to the conclusion that two salaries are better than one, and one household is cheaper than two. And so they met.
Sitting at the table, he ordered tea for two and grilled cheese toasts. For the first ten minutes they both just stared at the lake. Then the tea came and broke the silence. Fidgeting with the teapot, he poured himself tea first, then put at least five spoonfuls of sugar.
“That’s syrup, not tea!” She jested.
“You always say that every single time I have tea,” he said, controlling with difficulty his exasperation.
“I was just joking. At least I’m talking! You haven’t said a word yet,” she said defensively.
“Nice weather,” he stated seriously.
“By the way, isn’t it more gentlemanly to serve the lady first?” she asked, still annoyed at his rebuff.
“You’re always criticizing me!” he answered.
“But you never admit when you’re wrong. And you’re always attacking!” she exclaimed, starting to get angry.
Both kept silent for a while, while she stirred her tea. She kept stirring her tea till he thought she’d puncture a hole in her cup. But he kept his mouth clamped shut and kept watching her. She sipped her tea, then between every sip she’s stir her tea again, clanking the spoon against the porcelain, jangling his nerves. What an annoying habit, he thought, not realizing that he was cracking his knuckles as he watched her.
Oh no --- not again! I hate that, she thought, and he knows it! I’m sure he’s doing that just to annoy me and make me criticize him again. But, I won’t, she resolved silently, gritting her teeth. He’ll end up by having fingers looking like sausages, she thought grimly.
When he sipped his tea, she remembered again his embarrassing habit; the NOISE he made when he drank hot tea or soup! Hoping nobody noticed, she turned her head left and right to see if anyone was sitting nearby, but was relieved that only one other couple was there that day, and they were sitting quite far from them. Unable to control herself any longer, she tried reasoning with him:
“Why don’t you wait till the tea gets a bit cooler, dear, so you won’t scald your tongue?”
“Because I like it hot!” he snapped back, but stretched a false smile to take the sting off his tone.
Yeah. But you sound like a damn vacuum cleaner soaking in a bathtub, she thought angrily, while twisting nervously a lock of hair with her fingers at a speed of 50 m.p.h.
I bet she needs a psychiatrist, he mused, watching in fascination. Same bad habit she has! I had almost forgotten about it. And, TALKING. Always talking. And with her mouth full of food! She’s spraying wet crumbs all over me again, he thought in disgust, while he crumbled the rest of this toast into a million pieces.
How wasteful he is, she thought, looking in anger at the crumbled toast. “Well, now that you’ve wasted a perfectly good toast, while thousands are starving in Africa, at least feed the ducks with it!” She exclaimed.
Damn her! Criticizing and bossing again. But he only said: “Feeding the ducks won’t save the world.”
Lousy sense of humour. He doesn’t even know how to crack a joke! He never did, come to think of it, she concluded.
After two hours of irritating habits on both sides, the hovering waiter finally came over and gave him the bill.
As soon as the bill was paid, they both got up at the speed of lightning, chattered gaily about nothing, promised to meet again “one day soon,” called separate cabs, and went home --- with a sigh of relief --- to their separate lives.
- The End –
H.N.
