Four Minutes

I work late at nights. I’ve turned our house into my office and more often than not, you will find files and papers spilling over half opened briefcases.

It’s not a pretty sight but I run a business; not the kind that it puts me in the 0.3% of the population that brings in big money but, I have something of my own.

That’s besides the point but I added that in to give you a little insight of how ‘home’ looked and felt like.

She occupies 1/100th of the space around home. It’s always a corner. Some corner. If I’m lucky, I might find her in the periphery of my vision but usually, I’m not.

However, today I am.

She’s seated on the big grandpa chair basking in the afternoon sun with her glasses -when did she start wearing glasses?- perched on the bridge of her nose, a thick book in hand -the kind I’ve never seen her read- and a plate of cookies balancing on her knee.

I rattle a few papers just to see if she’ll look up because it’s rather ununual to see her right in front of me -I never see her unless I look for her.

She hasn’t disturbed any of my belongings but yet, she’s right there admist it all.

I stop chewing my pen and lean against my chair. My ‘office’ is a level higher than our floor. With a thick oak table and a plush leather chair that turns every way I want it to, my setting is one that you read in books and watch in movies.

I set aside my reading glasses that’ve been adding a touch of age to me since I was 14. Looking at her reading glasses, I realise she looks like a different person.

We’re both in different worlds now. She in hers and me in mine. However, mine suddenly revolves around her.

We’ve been married seven years. Three of which I rememeber and the recent four, I just don’t. I’m surprised she still has a ring on her finger.

I watch her, take notice of her, for the first time in what feels like a million years now.

Her hair is the color of honey that I drizzle on my sunday pancakes- didn’t she always have black hair? Her face has a little color thanks to the huge window she’s sitting next to and the sun hitting her skin just right. Her fingers- the same silver band glints, in stark contrast to our lack lustre marriage, the thing it signifies. I laugh silently at the irony.

Or so I thought.

I was laughing out loud and my wife now looks like I woke her up from the dead.

Startled by the sudden change in our environment, like shortcircuiting electric wires crackling and buzzing, there’s a charge in the air. I’m staring at her. I might even be gaping at her but there’s no real way to tell.

She stares right back.

One second…. Two seconds….. Three seconds….. Four seconds…..

She straightens herself. I mimic the change in position. She purses her lip but I continue looking, aware that something is changing and that the invisible circuits around us are really whizzing around with what would seem like a purpose.

We still haven’t broken contact and I’m starting to get hopeful that our first word in four years might just be exchanged today.

But…..

I look at the number calling on the mobile that’s ringing so loudly, it might just have been the loudest I’ve ever heard it ring. The circuits I thought I felt, no longer buzz with excitement.

In the dead silence that follows a missed call, I look back at her patiently waiting, almost calculating.

The phone rings again. And again. And again.

I don’t know what she’s waiting for.

“Hello. Is this a wrong time?”

I look at her retreating figure. What was I waiting for? The distance four years had caused had suddenly become just six feet away, why did I wait?

The distance was now becoming seven feet…. now eight feet…. until she rounded the corner and was again out of my sight.

“No”, I say into the phone. “No, it’s not.”

I broke our circuit four years ago when I couldn’t put a call away to save my marriage.

I broke our circuit four minutes ago when I couldn’t put a call away to save my marriage.

I work late at nights. I’ve turned our house into my office and more often than not, you will find files and papers spilling over half opened briefcases.

That’s besides the point but I added that in to give you a little insight of how ‘home’ looked and felt like.

Anya: Quick note, today is the 25th National Reading day. I’ve never heard of this one before but seeing that it perfectly falls on one of my posting days, I needed to jump on the bandwagon because that’s just what I do.

I’m currently reading ‘The Power Of Your Subconscious Mind’ by Dr. Joseph Murphy. P-H-E-N-O-M-E-N-A-L.

I still doggy ear my books but Karen made me bookmark for myself so, here’s hoping I remember about it each time I set the book down.

28 Comments on “Four Minutes”

  1. Pingback: Four Minutes – Little Strings of Poetry

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