I was supposed to be angry but to my surprise, I was calm, too calm for my comfort. He did it again today. He came home late and to make matters worse, he walked into the house with the airs of an important person. Could be he was even expecting me to roll out the red carpet for him. I had got tired of answering, “it’s not daddy”, to all the questions the children posed as cars passed by the house. Sincerely I think it is not funny anymore. I knew before I married him that he was a night rider but I thought that marriage was going to slow him down but I guess I “goofed” there. I served him dinner ( though I would have preferred to call it another thing because it was already past midnight) and as always, his head hit the pillow immediately he finished eating and he was off to dreamland. I stared at him in anger and felt like waking him up. I had waited up for him and there he was snoring away and to my consternation, I was not feeling sleepy anymore. That was when I became angry.
He wasn’t the only focal point of my anger as I was angry with myself too. I was angry at myself for depending on him a lot (like I have to have him around for my life to be complete). I liked the feeling of being needy and on the receiving end but it has gotten old with the passage of time. I was angry that he was living his life and here I stayed home and played the perfect housewife. The scales fell from my eyes and the tears started forming. I rubbed my eyes to stop them but it was as if I aided them and, gushing, they came. I hadn’t cried like that in a long time but I sure felt good after I was done. I got up from the bed, looked at myself in the mirror. The person starring at me was not the lady she used to be. I looked spent with the small pouch forming under my eyes. Yes, spent from being the last person to sleep and being the first person to wake,. Spent from the school runs and constant talking(which comes out as more of shouting) at the kids and above all spent from not taking care of myself. I removed my hairnet, shook out my hair and gently brushed my hair. I sat in front of the dressing mirror and applied some makeup to my face. I took turns wearing my jewelries and admiring myself. It was like a release and immediately I knew what I had to do. I walked out of the bedroom to the study room and ran my hands lovingly over books I had stacked on the bookshelf. Amongst the old ones were some new books I bought but hadn’t made out time to read them. I could start reading them again. Excitement started building up in me as thoughts of what to do flooded my heart. I took the “Black boy” by Richard Wright from the shelf and smilingly went back to bed. I had read it once but it wasn’t a bad idea to read it again. As I laid on my side of the bed, I looked at my husband again and it didn’t matter anymore that he came home late, neither did it matter that I was still awake at 1:25 am. My clock just started ticking. Tick tock, tick tock.