Forbearance

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She doesn’t quite agree with what he says, but she replies, “Yeah, true”, because the threads holding them together are frayed and fragile. She tells herself to dance along to his strings, to clap at his speeches, to laugh at his jokes, even when her feet are weary, when her jaw is aching, when she would rather cuddle with her pillows. After all, it will be worth it when their strings become tangled and tensile. She does love him, it’s just that, these parts of his lifestyle fill her with immense dread. Crowds make her chest too tight to breathe. Loud music gives her a headache. And meeting too many smiling strangers simply drains her soul. Persevere, she tells herself, and you will obtain what you seek. Just hang on a little longer.

As she watches his distant figure, poised and sharp, walking to the lectern with some papers in hand, she wonders what parts of her he has to tolerate. If he really wanted to go to that Chinese restaurant for dinner last week. Whether he likes her new job. If he is fine with her throwing away the old engine oil which he’d kept in the kitchen for weeks. He hasn’t had an outburst in weeks. She wonders if his forbearance will last.


Photo by Luis Quintero from Pexels

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