Page 5 of The Husband Diet
‘Listen to me, and listen good,’ I snapped, scaring even myself. ‘The only reason I want to go is because I still cherish those dreams, as opposed toyou! It’s not just about money or careers! I see the kids only a few hours a day and it’s not enough for me. Before we know it, they’ll be off to university!’
‘That’s because you want to be ahotelmanager,’ he scoffed, now bunching his fists.
‘No, Ira. I’d rather stay home and cook and be a full-time mother. But I can’t. I need to work to support this family.’
Truth was, without my income, we’d still be living in that shitty flat on the edge of town. And I’d never said anything about how the marriage was sucking my life dry. I’d do anything for my kids. And it really didn’t matter who made more. We were a family. Weren’t we?
Ira knew I was right but didn’t give me the satisfaction of admitting it. Instead, he shrugged.
‘Find a part-time job, then.’
‘A part-time job isn’t enough. We have the kids’ school tuition, ballet, soccer, school trips and a gazillion other things, not to mention that gas guzzler you continue to drive around town for God knows whose benefit.’
At that, he turned to me, his face reddening. ‘We wouldn’t be in this situation now if you hadn’t left Tech.Com to have a baby! If you’d stayed by my side like a proper wife should!’
I blinked. So that was what it was all about. All these years he’d resented my earning enough elsewhere. Not sharing his dream with him. And now he didn’t want to share mine. But I’d never had any choice to stay at Tech.Com. We had children to feed and clothe and shelter and protect. I couldn’t keep up with the romantic and impractical notion of the woman who follows her husband to the edge of the Earth. Unfortunately, I was the only one who saw things clearly. Ira had been blinded all these years by his dream, financed by my job. And now he was throwing all my sacrifices back in my face? He was past delusional if he thought he was right.
‘A proper wife?’ I said, feeling my cheeks burning. ‘I did what I had to do to feed my children, seeing that you weren’t capable.’ I bit my lip, because I’d never wanted to hurt him but knew now I’d been too kind to him. Besides, Ira had never censured himself to be kind to me. So I let him have it. ‘Areyoua proper husband?’ I demanded, getting braver by the second. ‘The one who hardly glances at his kids anymore when he comes through that door, who stares at the TV while they’re trying to talk to him.’
‘I need a shirt for tomorrow,’ he said.
‘They’re hanging in your closet,’ I snapped over my shoulder as I turned my back on him and yanked off my robe, sliding under the covers, hoping he’d get the message that the conversation was now over.
‘My blue striped one isn’t.’
‘Well wear another one, then.’ For once, I was one step ahead of this crazy game called homemaking and he had to nitpick over one shirt? Give me a hotel crisis any day.
‘No. I want my blue striped one,’ he insisted, like Warren did when he wanted ice cream for dinner.
‘Then you know where the iron and ironing board are,’ I bit off. ‘I have to get up in five hours.’
With a huff, he stalked off into the bathroom and ran himself a bath.
‘Can’t even iron me one damn shirt… too busy with her own life,’ he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. ‘Some housewife you are.’
‘Actually, I’m a career woman and a motheranda housewife. And I do my damnedest.’
‘Could have fooled me,’ he corrected coolly as he slammed the bathroom door behind him.
‘I’m the one who plays with them!Ihelp with the homework,’ I shouted through the closed door. ‘I’m the one who cleans the house. Cooks, does laundry, gives Maddy a bath. Have you talked to your son lately? He’s growing up, you know. But what male role model does he have at home?’
‘Your gay buddy who’s always slithering around here for free meals! Why doesn’t he go back to his supposedvillain Italy and leave us alone?’ he spat back through the closed door.
‘At least Paul is loving. He doesn’t push them away and say, “Yes, that’s nice, now let me watch TV.” You wouldn’t notice them even if they painted their faces green. So don’t try to make me feel like a bad parent, because if there’s one here – it’s you!’
Are you getting a sense of déjà vu, dear reader? Then welcome to my life.
‘When was the last time you ever left this house without an ironed shirt?’ I demanded as I threw myself out of bed to fling the bathroom door open. He was already lying in the tub in a mountain of bubbles. ‘Tell me!’
He crossed his arms. ‘Quite a few times, actually. How embarrassing for you.’
I could have killed him on the spot. Charged right in there and smashed his head against the pristine ceramic tiles, a red glob against white. Teach the insolent bastard a lesson.
‘Forme? You’re the one who should be embarrassed! You don’t even take the trash out.’
‘I work like an animal,’ he shouted, ‘twenty-four seven, and now youdecideyou want to go to Tuscany! When are you going to wake up from your stupid dreams?’
Stupid dreams? I pulled out the hairdryer from under the vanity unit, shoved it in the socket and began to straighten my brownish auburn hair. For no reason at all. At every yank, it was like I was trying to straighten the kinks in my life. Besides, the lovely noise drowned his voice as he went on and on.
