Patrick came home late, as usual. Although the winter was saying goodbye, still some snowflakes fell that stained the entrance of his house. He entered quietly, accustomed not to interrupt the sleep of the little children. He saw light in the living room and smiled. No matter how many times he told her, Shelagh always waited for him anytime, ready to listen to him and give him a hot cup of tea or prepare his dinner. He closed the door as quietly as he could and hung up his coat.
When he entered the room he became paralyzed. Shelagh was not alone. Shelagh was with another man. She was sitting on the couch, kissing him. She separated from the man, frightened, and he saw that man was Christopher. That had no sense, he knew the dentist was the Trixie´s suitor. Shelagh just gave him a look full of obviousness, a look of "you knew this was going to happen". He could not answer anything.
A blow startled him and he opened his eyes. He was in his room, the same one he saw only seconds ago. But he was lying on the couch, the same couch on which Shelagh and Christopher kissed. However, there was no one there, only him and the dim light of the lamp lit. His heart beat faster than ever and he sat up, feeling pain in all his bones. He swallowed, it had only been a dream. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
He heard again the same blow that woke him, came from the upstairs rooms. He climbed the stairs with the same stealth he used in his dream, fearing he would find something worse. His head was spinning and he still could not calm his heartbeat.
He opened the Timothy's door and found the source of the blows. His son was trying to put together a school model, and he was holding a hammer.
"Hey Dad!" he greeted cheerfully.
"Where's your mother?" he said abruptly. Timothy frowned, confused by his father's question and his tone of anger.
"I don´t know" Tim replied, fearing that the question had something to do with him and some bad behavior. In fact, he feared it was the date he would have with Caroline, of which he had spoken to Shelagh.
"What do you mean you don´t know?" Patrick asked again, with the same abruptness.
"She's out."
"Where?"
"I...I don´t know, she said it but she was in a hurry, you know when she's in a hurry she talks fast and I didn´t pay much attention to her. I was concentrating on this" he pointed to the model, "She said she was coming back soon."
"Timothy how can it be that you don´t heard where she went!'"
"I don´t know, Dad, I don´t know!" replied the boy, feeling that the fury he felt more and more frequently towards his father was present, "If you hadn´t slept as you slept, she would have told you! Stop bothering me."
"Timothy, I'm your father, talk to me with respect."
"And I´m your son, and you are interrupting my homework!"
Patrick sighed and ruffled his hair. In other circumstances, he would help to his son. In other circumstances, he would not have talked to him like that. But now he did not have time, he wanted Shelagh. He wanted to see her, with his own eyes, as he felt rage filling his veins.
"Where´s Angela?"
"She's in her room with Teddy."
"Did your mother leave Teddy?"
Timothy sighed. He hated when his father referred to Shelagh as "your mother." He liked those words, but he was annoyed by the tone of voice his father sometimes used. Like this one, where it was clearly noticeable that he was angry with her, or perhaps with everyone.
"Yes" he replied, giving another blow to one of the walls of the model.
"You're going to hurt yourself with that hammer."
"Dad, I know how to do things by myself."
He closed the door, listening again to the hammering of his son. He heard Angela's voice through the door of her room. Apparently, she had a tea party with her dolls and Edward. He did not want to come in to see them, for fear of making them angry as he did with his eldest son.
He went down to the living room and saw Shelagh entering the house with bags in her hands.
"Hello!" she greeted him cheerfully, "Did I wake you?"
"Where were you?" he asked with the same abruptness that he used with Tim.
"What´s the matter?"
"Where were you?" he repeated. Shelagh blinked and bit her lip.
"I took advantage that everything was quiet to go out and buy some things. I want to make a cake tomorrow" she lifted the bags with products.
"Why? It's not anyone's birthday."
"Patrick, what's the matter? I just want to make a cake for when Tim returns from school, tomorrow he will have a hard day, he has two exams and he must present the model he is doing."
Shelagh walked to the kitchen and he sat back down on the couch. He was being ridiculous, and all for a bad dream. How could he be suspicious of Shelagh? He felt dirty for thinking so, but after that dream the first thing that crossed his mind was to think she was gone, with another man. After all, that was not so far-fetched. He was old, his bones were telling him that they complained more and more frequently. He had gray hair, he had wrinkles, his eyes were tired. Instead, Shelagh was young, beautiful, full of energy, everyone loved her. The man would not be Christopher, he remembered a comment from Shelagh about him and Trixie and a walk with the dentist's daughter. He sighed, he could not remember what his wife was telling him. He had not paid any attention to her things. More reasons for her to find another man.
At dinner he did not look up from the plate. He knew she was looking at him, trying to figure out what was wrong. He swallowed hard with a few mouthfuls, putting all his effort into no one noticing the trembling of his hands holding the cutlery. The image appeared in front of him again and again, like stabs. He felt his heart break with pain, rage, and fear. She would never do that to him and if she would do, he was sure he did not want to know. He would not be able to survive and he did not know how the anger would get out of his control. He set the cutlery on the plate, feeling even worse just at the thought of hurting her.
Shelagh began to wash the dishes soon, after she took the children to sleep.
"Leave it, I can do it" he moved closer to her, trying to wash away the guilt he felt along with the dirt on the plates.
She turned to look at him.
"No, Patrick, I can do it, it's early. I want to do it fast and go to sleep, I'm very tired."
"Why?"
Shelagh gave him a confused look that hid her anger.
"Because I have a job, a house, and three children" she turned and continued to wash the dishes.
And there he was, bothering her. It was clear that she was tired because she was a busy woman, but his mind told him that she was tired of him. Or tired of being with another man.
Everything was a great nonsense, Shelagh was happy, he saw it when she was with her children or when she bought things to decorate her new house. But he did not know if she was happy with him. He often heard stories of women who seemed happy with their children and their homes and at the same time they were tired of all this and their absent husbands, like him. That's why they ended up entangled in adventures with other men. He himself helped to give birth to a couple of children born of those adventures.
He dried the dishes that Shelagh washed without saying a word and when he finished, went to bed. Shelagh stayed a little longer, arranging Tim's books, Angela's pencils, and some Teddy´s toys.
When he heard her come to the bedroom, he closed his eyes, pretending to look asleep. He felt her slide to his side and turn with her back. Then he heard her turn to him and lean on her elbows.
"Patrick."
He responded with a grunt.
"Patrick, you're not asleep, please answer me."
He opened his eyes and looked at her. Her face was filled with concern and he felt guilty again. Who knows what would be going through her head at that time.
"Shelagh forgive me. I know I was weird, but everything is all right."
"Tell me please. Is it...is it the war?"
"No, no, no, no" he said, almost desperate. He knew she was afraid to ask about that and that all his discomforts she related to his darkest years.
"So what is it?"
He looked at the ceiling, and took a breath.
"I had a dream" he said at last.
She said nothing and waited for him to continue.
"Shelagh you are very young."
"Not so much Patrick. You told me once yourself" she smiled.
"Sorry about that. But you're young. And I´m not."
Shelagh sighed and leaned back on her pillow, also staring at the ceiling.
"Oh, again with that. Patrick I told you, you're not old, I don´t see you like this. Stop worrying. Although I don´t understand what this has to do with your dream."
"In the dream you were with another man, a young man. You were kissing him."
"What?!"
Shelagh sat down and reached for her glasses on the table. Then she turned on the light. He avoided telling her who this man was, so as not to shock her even more.
"Patrick, do you think I'm cheating on you?"
He sighed and tried not to look at her, though she was looking for him with her eyes.
"I don´t, Shelagh. But I think you'd have reason to have another man. A young and handsome man. Someone who has not only given you children and this house, but his time, vacations, go to movies or dinner, someone who pays attention to you."
"You pay attention to me."
"No. No, sometimes I don´t. And I don´t do any of the things I told you. Shelagh, I didn´t even give you a normal courtship."
"That happened years ago, and nothing was normal at that time, but I was very happy, as I am now. Patrick, do you really think I could cheat on you? It's crazy that you think that."
"It would not hard to you, you're beautiful. And I've seen how men look at you, especially when you walk between the docks. And I heard more than one comment when you left the convent and still no one knew that you were with me."
"I saw the women watching you, too. In case you don´t know, you were the most coveted man in Poplar."
Patrick chuckled.
"You're talking nonsense."
"No, and you know it. And you should also know that women still watch you."
She took off her glasses, leaned back, and stroked his arm.
"Patrick, look at me."
Reluctantly, he looked at her. She was beautiful, it was hard to believe that someone so perfect was by his side. His impossible and forbidden love that he always thought he would never have, here in his bed, looking at him with her eyes full of sweetness as when he'd found her on that misty road and she told him she was certain.
"Despite all those looks and comments I never thought you'd cheat on me. So why is all this?"
"It was that damn dream. For a moment I thought it could come true and I could no longer stop thinking and imagining things. I'm sorry, I told you, I'm old and the old men say and think nonsense. Soon I will be like Sister Monica Joan."
She did not respond to his joke, only stroked his face, his face that he knew was full of wrinkles he hated, but she seemed to adored them.
"I would never do that to you. I love you, just as you are, with all your complexes and your fears, and the things that we go through together. You're my man Patrick, I don´t need any other man neither younger nor more handsome, I just need you."
She moved to his lips and kissed them gently.
"I just want you to kiss me" she gave him another kiss, "I just want you to touch me, to love me. But I don´t want you to keep thinking those things, they hurt you."
"I'll never do it again, I promise" he took her hand and kissed it on the palm.
"And never say you are old, or you are going to die first, or you don´t deserve me, or all those things that you sometimes say and that makes me want to drown you with the pillow."
"Well, well, I didn´t know you could kill! Now I have a reason to suspect you!"
Shelagh giggled and he kissed her, making her roll under his body. She let out a little cry, she separated from his lips and looked into his eyes, smiling as she always did, filling his mind and his tormented heart with peace. If he ever had doubts, he would remember that smile.