Posted: 17 March 2007 at 4:16pm | IP Logged
A late night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fell asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again. She brought up her divorce conditions. She didn't want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month's time before divorce, and in the month's time we must live as normal life as possible. Her reason was simple. Our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't want him to see our marriage broken. She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, "He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day?" This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, "I remember." "You carried me in your arms." She continued, "So, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning." I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage with a romantic form.
I told Dew about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. "No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce." She said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.
My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out for the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms.
She closed her eyes and said softly. "Let us start from today, don't tell our son." I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for bus, I drove to office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realised that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.
On the third day, she whispered to me, "The outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there."
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualisation of Dew became vaguer.
On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger.
I didn't tell Dew about this.
I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, "It seems not difficult to carry you now." She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, "All my dresses have grown fatter." I smiled. But I suddenly realised that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger.
I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head. Our son came in at the moment. "Dad, it's time to carry mum out." He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.
On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, "Actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old." I held her tightly and said, "Both you and I didn't notice that our life was lack of such intimacy."
I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, "Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious." She looked at me, astonished. Then she touched my forehead, "You got no fever." I moved her hand off my head. "Sorry, Dew. I can only say sorry to you. I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you."
Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into cry. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.
When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favourite. The salesgirl asked me to write the greeting words on the card. I smiled and wrote. "I'll carry you out every morning until we are old."