A Wait For Anger

‘Please Vansh, move out of the way. I need a smoke.’ 

‘I’m not going to let you go, Ashlesha.’ 

His body stood squarely in front of the door, blocking her from going out to buy a cigarette. 

‘I thought you’d stopped. When did you start again?’ 

‘Just this past month. Work’s been hectic.’ 

‘Tell me about work.’ 

‘Move.’ 

Vansh looked at his wife, searching for some sign that she wanted to quit. He would help her, distract her like he used to before, she just needed to say the word. But her mouth was set and back stiff; she seemed determined to go. He didn’t know what to do. So he moved, but only so that he was behind her. He slowly enveloped his arms around

her, and started pulling her in toward him. His arms moved in, strengthening his hold on her, lodging his wife into his embrace. He would stand like this forever, holding her, not letting her near those tiny killers. 

As his arms snaked around her, Ashlesha’s eyes widened, fear flitting through them. The first time she had been caught with a cigarette had also started with love. She rolled her shoulders and blinked. ’Leave me.’ 

And he did, going to stand in front of the door again. She turned and huffed into the bedroom, banging the door shut behind her. She changed into her night suit, feeling the dinner she’d eaten trying to lurch its way up, and focused on keeping it down. Anger stroke out of her every movement, the bend of her knees as she pulled her shorts up, and

shoving out of her hands through her T-shirt’s armholes, the force with which she put her worn clothes into the hamper. Grabbing a pillow and blanket, she stormed out into the hall, noticing he was still standing by the door, turned the lights off and tucked herself onto the sofa. There simply wasn’t the space for a second person here, so good riddance, at least for the night. 

‘Ashlesha.’ 

Greeted only with silence, he went to the room, following suit and changing his clothes. He sat on the bed for a few moments, thinking about their lively dinner. They’d spoken about work, he sharing his day and she talking about the two meetings she had had today. There was also a birthday in her office, and cake. She’d laughed so much

throughout the meal. Her eyes shone when she laughed. Vansh’s hands twisted and untwisted as he thought about her sleeping out on that uncomfortable sofa. She could have turned her back on him but still shared their bed. He was underestimating her anger. For the first time in their two years together, she didn’t want to stop smoking, so he

realised it was a bit like disciplining a child. But there was no damn way he was letting her smoke so long as he could prevent it. She’d go to office on Monday and then it’d be out of his hand, but for the next two days, she wasn’t smoking. 

By the time he went out, he could already hear her small snores. He grabbed a pillow and settled into the smaller sofa, half-sitting, and soon fell asleep. 

Fear jerked her awake. She felt her hair, it was all still there. Blinking a few times, she noticed him sleeping on the adjoining sofa. He certainly wasn’t dragging her by the hair, she reminded herself. Her hand reached out to touch his knee but stopped midway, slowly pulling back. This was the first time she’d insisted on smoking instead of working with him to distract herself. She needed to see what he would do. 

* 

When he opened his eyes the next morning, she was still asleep. She normally turned her alarm off for the weekends, but how comfortable could she be on that sofa? He was certainly cramping. It was 6 am and she’d be sleeping for a while. As quietly as he could, he left for the gym, leaving his pillow on the couch with a smile. Maybe she’d

ask about it. 

When he returned, she was still asleep. He showered and got ready, quietly made himself two eggs for breakfast, all the while fighting the urge to carry her into the bedroom and tuck her into their bed. She hated the idea of being carried, she’d never allowed it. While eating, he smiled softly at the thought of how much her anger would multiply if he carried her.  

It was 10.17 am when she first started stirring. As soon as she woke up, a soft groan escaped her. But she noticed his head turn sharply on hearing that and her anger returned, fully waking her up in an instant. He was at the round dining table they’d picked out together, doing something on his laptop. She didn’t want him looking at her at all. She didn’t want him to exist. She got up with a huff, folded her blanket, dumped it and her pillow back on the bed, and went straight for a shower, banging the bathroom door shut and locking it from the inside. In the shower, alone, she calmed down enough to cry a few tears but instantly reminded herself that she had to be strong. If this man wasn’t who she thought he was, now was the time to know. 

Out of the bathroom, all dressed up, she went straight to the kitchen, and felt him following her in. 

‘Ashlesha. Shall I make you eggs? Weekends are normally my cooking time, aren’t they?’ 

In response she only got out the pan and eggs. She could feel him hovering but it was okay here. The kitchen was her favourite place in the house. While the rest of the house was theirs, she saw the kitchen as her space. Besides, she reasoned as she scrambled her eggs, she was safe here. There was a hot pan in front of her, the gas was turned on,

the masala box with the chilli powder was less than her arm’s length away, the drawer with knives was one step to the right. Even aware of his strength, she felt well protected. By then he had come to stand at her left, staring directly at her face. 

Energised by the various thoughts of self-defence running through her mind, she moved with stronger steps, her back straighter, movements surer, transferring the eggs onto a plate, making herself some coffee, and taking her food over to the table, walking around him. 

He followed her to the table, sitting opposite her. He couldn’t take this silence any longer. He decided to wait till she finished, noticing that she was eating in quite a hurry. It was just past 11, she must be hungry. When she’d finished and turned to her coffee, he decided to try. 

‘Ashlesha. I just don’t want you to smoke, it’s a rotten habit. Is that why you’re angry?’  

Her coffee was slightly sweeter than usual, she noted. She’d dumped in more sugar than she meant to.  

‘We can at least talk about it, can’t we?’ 

‘I am not going to quit this time.’ 

‘Yes, you are.’ 

Her head snapped up to look straight into his eyes. 

‘The next time you have a craving, we can talk about it, like we used to before. Will you let me know?’ 

She took a big gulp of her coffee. It felt good but she missed the coffee he made. 

‘Just talk to me,’ he pleaded. ‘Please.’ He’d seen her anger with her father. She’d held on to this lack of talking for years. He couldn’t bear to be in that position.  

‘I have nothing to say.’ 

‘It’s okay. I do. Did I tell you about the food at Lutika’s last week? There was butter chicken. She’d made it for the entire party. It’s a cosy place —’ 

His attempt at holding on to her attention, and eyes, failed, as she started clearing up her plate and took her coffee to the room. No. He wouldn’t let her do this anymore. He followed her in. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, the coffee on the side table next to her. He sat down next to her, looking straight into her eyes. 

‘You’d mentioned before that you smoke when there’s too much going on and you’re struggling to handle the stress. If work’s that hectic, we can discuss it.’ 

‘Vansh, I am not going to stop smoking.’ 

He looked down, twisting and untwisting his hands.  

She prepared for a change in his demeanour. Her hot coffee was close at hand, she reminded herself. 

Vansh looked up, his eyes moist. ‘What about your health?’ 

His gentleness confused her. ‘Wait,’ she said, turning to face him.  

He did, his feet bobbing as emotion surged through his entire body. She was concentrating very hard. 

‘Last night, when you physically blocked me from going, and then held me from behind, you were being helpless weren’t you? 

‘I don’t want to see my wife slowly, but surely, kill herself.’ 

‘No not the smoking, about what to do to stop me. You didn’t really know what to do did you?’ 

He nodded no.  

‘And when you held me from behind?’ 

‘I love you.’ 

‘Exactly! You were just holding me weren’t you? Because you felt helpless and didn’t know what to do!’ 

‘Completely clueless.’ 

She remained silent for a long time. 

‘I’m sorry Vansh.’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘Because when you came and stood between me and the door last night, I only saw your actions, not your eyes. And —‘ 

‘And?’ 

She looked down at the floor. ‘And I thought I was seeing a new side of you. An angry side. A man who would physically restrain me if need be. And then when you held me from behind, you squeezed, and I think you were just holding on tighter, but I thought it was your display of strength. Like a warning. That you were stronger and you would get your way. After that squeeze I was terrified. It reminded me of the time she had caught me smoking, I’d told you about that remember?’

He looked straight at her, listening in horror as she slowly unravelled her mind for him.  

‘And anger was just my natural response to that I think. As long as you weren’t being angrier than me, and using force to make your point, I was okay. I mean that’s what I was waiting for. But somewhere I knew that you wouldn’t do that, that I was getting it wrong somewhere, that’s why I didn’t leave the house and all.’  

‘You thought I was threatening you?’ 

‘Yes!’ 

She folded her legs up onto the bed and sat back to look at him, a slight smile inviting him to her. 

‘Can I hold you, Ashlesha?’ 

‘Yes please.’