Just a short tale of the justifications people use to try to make the possible consequences of their actions unimportant. But not surprisingly, what to one is justification, to another it's just crap.
Edited by LadyCibelle with care and comments and my thanks.
Consequences-Contessa
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, straightened my tie and pulled it a little more snuggly around my neck. I smiled, making sure my teeth were clean and no lingering piece of something-or-other was there to mar my visage. To my image I said, "Jeff, my man; you look marvelous!" I nodded once to myself, impressed at my own cleverness, stepped back, picked up my wallet, watch and a clean handkerchief and then, as ready as I would ever be, walked downstairs to the kitchen. I smelled coffee as I strode in and reached for a cup as I passed the counter where they were kept on a small rack.
"Coffee smells good. I really need a cup before I have to do this thing."
This thing was a meeting I really didn't want to have with a vendor I disliked immensely, but he was a necessary evil and I had little choice. It was first thing so at least the rest of the day would be tolerable. I didn't hate my job but it was really boring. I needed a change and if something didn't happen soon, I was going to make my own change.
I was speaking to Essie, my wife of nineteen years and the love of my life. Actually, her name was Contessa but everyone called her Essie. That came from a little sister who couldn't pronounce her name and Essie is what came out. It stuck. We had a son, Phillip, who left for college a month ago, leaving the house an empty nest. At least that what's they called it when the last or only child left the home. Why, I had no idea. Essie and I would still be here and we counted for something, or at least I felt we did. But, hey, who understood those witticisms that everyone said when they didn't know what else to say?
I directed my attention to my quiet wife. "Have any plans of your own today? I should be home on time, and I thought maybe we could go out to dinner tonight. Save you having to fix anything and we haven't done that for a while. Might be fun." I threw it out, expecting her to turn it down as usual.
"No, I don't have any real plans, but I might go do some shopping, check out some shops, anything like that. And no to the dinner. I'll be too tired anyway. I'll just call for some takeout."
I looked at her, not the least bit surprised by her answer. She was not even looking at me and probably hadn't even when I came in or spoke first. She hadn't been looking at me for some time now, longer than I could remember.
"Well, I didn't expect you would go for it, but I wanted to ask. Takeout is fine. It's something you've gotten very good at preparing."
That was a sarcastic and mean response, but it was also true. I knew I could say it however, since it would be too much trouble for her to respond in anything other than an apathetic word or two. As I waited, I was proved correct when she simply looked up for a second and then back down, ignoring me. Her response was typical and what I expected. It fit the pattern I had learned to live with; one that began long before today. It began sometime before Phillip left for college and had nothing to do with the 'empty nest' syndrome that Art, my friend and resident amateur shrink, kept telling me was the cause.
Essie had changed a lot in just a short time. Short in that we had been happily married for those nineteen years and we dated a year before that. She and I had been a team, a couple with dreams and plans and we shared everything. That began to change about a year ago and the change had become more pronounced as time passed. The Essie I married was becoming a stranger in our home and the loss was tearing me apart. The real problem was that she didn't see it and refused to do anything about it.
In truth, a lot of things had changed now. She used to go to the gym with Phil when he was home, but he told me she had stopped that several months before he left. She still looked trim and buff but it was beginning to be obvious that she was starting to slip around the waist, and I could see just a little bit of a tummy beginning. Not enough to make her less attractive but enough to let me know something had changed.
In addition, she had begun to be irritable and snappish with me. Nothing major, but it was rare that we could have a conversation without her ending it with some snide comment about me or my habits. Little things, like my hours being too long or the trips, too many. I hardly ever worked overtime now and I hadn't traveled for almost seven months. But it didn't have to be correct; just something to snap at me about. The old Essie would never do that without trying to smooth things over by discussion. Essie always talked first and acted later.
Her behavior changed radically and that affected the way we interacted with others. Essie was just forty two but looked younger. I was older, at almost forty nine but I tried to stay fit for her. Most people would think we were both younger than our ages and we had always been proud of that. But that was when we went anywhere together and that hadn't been the case in almost a year. No reason; just her refusal for one reason or other. In truth, I had stopped asking about five or six months ago. There was no longer any point. The comment about tonight and dinner was asked in a sarcastic tone, not that she would notice, just like her answer had been automatic.