The seasons were changing, there were barely any leaves on the trees on my way home. She is in the living room and that is just what I need. I'd rather confess to her here rather than in the garden where people might see us and certainly not the kitchen where all her knives were easily accessible. The living room is perfect, it is the safest place…
Who was it again that said, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions"? I can't remember. Only now they ring so true and as I watch her face all twisted and scornful, I remember that pure-bred dog they called a pug. It was brought into my office by a bumbling recruit who thought it was the lost and found department. Apparently the dog was of importance to the English Ambassador, the idiot who let it loose. It urinated at every hibachi around the precinct, mistaking it for some sort of fire hydrant. Apparently English dogs do that by instinct, that is… Urinate on every fire hydrant marking it as their territory. But my wife is not a dog… Actually she is a –very- beautiful woman, at least I used to think of her as such. NOT ANYMORE.
"Here Tokio. I can no longer hide the truth from you."
I hand her the picture. It was a beautiful picture but a proof of my ineptness at these sort of matters. She takes one look at it and tears it apart, letting the pieces scatter in the air as if they were duck feathers. I'm not surprised. I -knew- she would be angry.
"How could you? And I thought you were a faithful husband." Her hands shake in anger and I look away. It's better this way I think. That I tell her the truth. She'll find out sooner or later and we'd still be having this quarrel. A quarrel that I do not care for at -all-.
"I give up Tokio…" I shrug and take a cigarette out from my breast pocket. I too have have my limits... So I leaned by the door and smoked and paid no attention to her as she pouted, cried and shot dagger looks towards my direction. It's still quite amusing that those little hands are not yet on my throat… Hell my katana is right there on the table. She could take it and kill me right now if she wanted to. She's seen me practice my gatotsu in the backyard enough that I'm almost certain she'd execute it perfectly. Perhaps I –do- deserve it.
"And you gave a fine performance. YOU HAVE PROMISED ME!"
Blowing a smoke towards the side, I pretend not to hear her. The day was over after all. There was nothing I could do. Hell! Like I'd really want to! Things are now at such a pathetic point that I feel nothing but apathy towards this idiotism. She was asking too much and I -tried-. There's only so much a man can give.
"I don't remember giving out promises." I frown and threw her a –glare-. "It's done. It's over. Let's just move on."
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!"
Calmly I smirked and let her have her tantrum. She cries again and sits by the table, staring at the now mangled picture on the floor, pieces of it. I show her my back, turning to look out the window towards the dark fences of our home. I can hear her sniffle a bit and I swallow hard. After all these years… I had broken my word… So inevitably, we just stayed like that for a while not looking at each other but firmly rooted at the same spot. Finally, my mind drifts to the days ahead, it will be different I know. In a way, I felt uncertain and distraught. Our lives will change for better or for worse? I don't know yet but it –will-.
"Goro…"
Her fit ebbs and she calls my name out softly, almost pleading. But –that- will -not- change my mind. I will not go through this rigmarole again. I've always been honest with her that's why I took the trouble and showed her proof.
"Goro…"
Again she pleads with me and I take a –long- drag at my cigarette, watching the ember glow a fiery red and then die down again.
"Stop it Tokio."
"But… Goro… You can still change your mind."
"I will not." I flick the cigarette butt out the window and turn towards Tokio, my wife of almost two years. She sniffles into the low table, her whole body slumped as if the world just caved in on her… On us. I close my eyes. It is hard I know but it's time she admitted it. There was nothing that could be done. It was simply –too- late.
Quietly I drag myself towards her and kneeled down. Her face of course is swollen and her cheeks crimson in color… And her eyes, redder still. I could almost pity her at these times.
"I'm sorry Tokio… I didn't mean for this to happen." I say almost in a whisper. It was too bad after all.
She doesn't turn back to look at me. Perhaps I did deserve it for treating her like so. But she has to admit, she's been a child, throwing her tantrums and I've had –enough-.
"I hate you…" She mutters into the mantle.
"That's fine. Get some rest."
"No."
I sigh and pick up the remnants of the picture.
Damn! She made good work on this watermelon. Too bad I dropped it on the way home. Why do pregnant women get food cravings anyway?
I frown, shoving the picture into my pocket and pulled my wife into my arms, her head on my shoulders and her arms around my neck. I can still hear her whimper as I head for our room. Laying her down, she curls up an into the futon and turns away from me. Hugging the pillow like a defiant child… A soft smile graces my lips. I can't believe this woman will be a mother soon. A mother to -my- child.
"Tomorrow… I promise to get them –again- tomorrow."
She turns up to me wide-eyed, "Really?"
"Yes. Now go to sleep."
"Thank you."
I nod my head, leaving her so I can change to something more comfortable.
Kami… Please let it end soon… Four months is –way- too long and watermelons are out of season.
Short fic.. I read somewhere about flash fiction and wanted to give it a try… Please review. I'd like to hear your comments cause I don't usually write short fics nor this pairing… Thanks. Oh and nothing is mine as usual.