Stay At Home
ANDREW
Like a hurricane, another weekend arrived.
There were no tasks for me to do at the warehouse, so the day was going to be fun. Especially with a woman like Laura as my wife and in the house—I didn't have anything at all to bother about.
In the living room where I was seated after a cold bath this morning, I watched Laura come out of the kitchen with an apron tied around her waist. “Baby?”
“Yes, baby?” I was staring at her, then back at the television, while I struggled to catch up with the program I was watching. “Do you need my help with something?”
“No—” her head shook.
I could see her because I had finally abandoned the program I was seeing. “What do you want then?”
“Where would you like to eat?”
“Oh, here would do. Just you and I.”
Turning around, she walked away, and I resumed my program. It was surprising, but I had become more than hungry within a few hours of coming awake, and there also was no way I would have little quantity of food whenever the masterpiece she prepared was served.
Sitting up, I calculated the space with my head, giving a nod as I adjusted some more so that she could fit in while we were eating. And just at that moment, the kitchen door pushed open, and the woman walked out with a tray. “I won't be joining you. Not today. I really need to take a bath and I understand how hungry you are so you can eat.”
“Without you?”
“Yes—” Placing the tray on the chair next to me, she smiled. “I'll be right back. You can have it all if you think you can finish it, and if not, I can have the rest when I'm back.”
Like a hurricane, the woman took off the apron and dashed out of sight. Relaxing my back on the chair once again, I rested my gaze on the television screen while I began to eat. There was just something different.
Something I couldn't lay my hands on.
Maybe I could lay my hands on whatever this thing was but was only ashamed of myself to admit that Eleanor was a better cook than Laura. How could I be so foolish that I didn't test her cooking skills before the wedding?
It was not as though her food wasn't good at all.
It was perfect, or maybe it was because I was used to eating meals cooked by Eleanor and nobody else for the past three years—this could be the reason why it tasted different.
Who knows?
Relaxing my back one last time, I let the thoughts in my head disappear, and then I fixed my gaze on the screen of the television one last time.
Not getting on Boss's nerves too much was a miracle.
How come I wasn't even sacked and chased away from the warehouse and the job in total?
Perhaps it was for no other reason than the fact that I was a man who brought along many customers to Boss right from the day I started working with him—and maybe because it was my first time making such a huge mistake.
In a short while, I had my fill.
I rushed in and out of the kitchen, where I dumped the tray. The door to our bedroom opened, and my wife walked out with a smile on her countenance.
She looked different.
Her hair was tied in a bun, unlike moments ago when I saw her last. “Look who we have here. Whooooo!”
“I'll be right back.”
When she came back, it was with a tray of food.
“Did you have your fill with that?”
Reaching the couch where I was seated, the woman managed to snuggle into me, holding the tray of food at the same time. “How are you, baby?”
“Too many questions at once, huh?”
A chuckle ran out of my mouth.
“Well, your husband is doing very well, and you have nothing at all to worry about, mm? And as for the food, it was the best, and yes, I had my fill.”
“Perfect—” I could hear her mutter.
The moment she put a spoonful of the food in her mouth, Laura looked at me. “I wanted to talk to you about something, Andrew. We didn't really talk about this before the wedding, and I would love for us to address it now—right now if possible.”
“Sure, baby. What's that?”
A sigh ran out of her mouth.
What could it be?
Again, I asked myself and looked at the woman, realizing at the same time that this was a serious issue. No one asked me to turn down the volume of the television, and I moped at her again. “You're sighing. Did something happen to your dad or mom? What happened to them?”
“No, they're fine.”
I didn't need to ask again, especially when she let go of my arm, sitting on her own. “My family members are doing well, Andrew. This is about me. I just wanted to know what your plans for me are after marriage.”
I was confused.
Why was she confusing me?
“What do you mean?” A chuckle ran out of my mouth.
“What do people who are married do? They love each other and make babies if they fancy children. I know it took me two years to make up my mind to become a father, but I'm not doing that with you. We'll have a baby in our first year.”
“No. No. That's not what I mean.”
“Then, what do you mean?”
“I mean—” she leaned into me again.
“Andrew, you know I was working before the wedding, or don't you? I'd like to go back to work but in a different company, or if possible, you open a boutique for me. I've always wanted to have one, and you know.”
Oh, that.
Why did it take her a decade to speak her mind? Was she scared of me all of a sudden?
“Come on, babe. Is this the statement that took you so long to say? Why did you scare me like that?” A deep sigh ran out of my mouth, and I looked at her. “Didn't we talk about it before the wedding? Are you so sure about that?”
“No, we didn't talk about it.”
“Oh, my bad.”
“So, when do I start?”
“No, darling—” I let out.
“That shouldn't be the question.”
“What do you mean, Andrew?”
“The question should be ‘When do you start making babies for me?’ Do you understand me? I have all the money you would ever think that you need, so why do you need a job? What exactly do you need it for? I don't see a need for it.”
“H—how?”
“Eleanor stayed with me as my wife for three years, and she didn't leave the house because she needed to work. If she walked through that door, it was because she wanted to get food ingredients or, rather, go shopping for herself. Do you see that? My wife doesn't have to work when I have all the money and can provide her with whatever she wants.”
Her head shook.
I was getting annoyed but didn't show it.
“Do you want to refuse?”
“I have a career, Andrew. How can you ask me to let go of it like it was nothing? Do you care about my opinion?”
“I do, I do, but you'll not work. Maybe you can find something else that doesn't require you to work outside. I mean, something you can do indoors.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, my wife—” I hugged her to myself.
“In case you don't know, I'm scared of the outside when it comes to a beautiful woman like my wife. How about we stopped talking about this, mm?” I kissed her face and then picked up the remote, turning up the volume so that I could listen to what was being said.
A hand touched me.
Tired from the conversation, I didn't have a choice but to look at her face. “Didn't we just talk about this, baby?”
“I know—” she let out, snuggling in again.
“Don't you feel like I am a liability or something staying in the house and not working just as I should?”
“That's never going to happen. The woman I married was a working-class woman when we met, so how does she suddenly become a liability?”
I had more to say, but I stopped because my phone was beeping. “Excuse me, baby—” I hopped off the couch after carefully taking her out of my arms.
“This is a call from my Boss. I need some time.”
Mouthing, I walked away—a mixture of happiness and sadness written on my countenance. There was happiness because the Boss had just saved me from a conversation that should last longer and sadness because I didn't know whether or not I had screwed up one more time.
After these and many thoughts, I picked up the call.
“Hello, Boss.”
“Make it to the warehouse on time later today. There's a task I need to fill you in.”
The look of worry on my countenance switched to a smile. The call ended, and I relaxed my back on the wall, heaving a sigh. At least, I, and the Boss were back and on track.