Saturday, 31 March 2012

Winds of Change

“I can feel a wind of change”, I sighed uneasily. Hubby took the book out of my hands.
“You always get weird when you read a classic novel. It’s fiction Alice. Not real life”.
“I wasn’t talking about the book you idiot; I’ve just been thinking”. Hubby held his breath. It was late. He’d just wanted to go to sleep and now, here he was, trapped with me in one of my reflective reposes. Hubby realised that sleep would elude him unless he made a decision, quickly. So, should he insist that I keep my inner thoughts to myself, thus taking the risk of me disregarding his request and continue in the dark, to talk, disturbing his sleep, or, give in and give me his full attention, thereby allowing me to get whatever wind of change I felt was occurring off my chest immediately and briskly, allowing him to sleep in a few minutes or so?
His dilemma was, he had no idea what I was referring to and therefore couldn’t gauge how much undivided attention he would have to afford me. He hedged his bets and snuggled up to me, reaching over and switching off the light.
“Alice, the world is in constant flux. However it is the weather and Wuthering Heights that will have enhanced your feelings of apprehension. Take it from me, the bleak Yorkshire Moors, the brooding sexuality of the passionate Heathcliff combined with a distinct change in climate will be the culprit for your disposition”.
“I wasn’t aware that you’d read Wuthering Heights”, I said, somewhat surprised by his knowledge of 18th Century heartthrobs.
“I haven’t, but I’ve always had a thing for Kate Bush and all I needed to know about the antics of Cathy and Heathcliff, Kate told me in her lyrics.” And then he started to sing:
“Bad dreams in the night/ They told me I was going to lose the fight…My God, I’ve just realised how prophetic Kate Bush was”.
I elbowed him in the ribs.
“Well it’s true. All I want to do is sleep and I can see that I’m going to lose the fight”. I joined the refrain.
“Heathcliff, it’s me, Cathy, I’ve come home/ I’m so cold, let me in your wind-how-how-wow”
“Oh it gets dark, it gets lonely/ On the other side of you..” Hubby sang.
“Ooh let me have it, let me grab your soul away”, I joined.
“I pine a lot, I find the lot/Falls through with-hout yoo-hooo”, but by this time Hubby was sitting up in bed pretending to be Kate Bush, eyes wide, stare-y expression, fingers splayed in front of his face as I hummed the chorus, flinging my hair about. Hubby got on top of the duvet and straddled me. Naked as nature intended I doubt it was a pretty sight but we didn’t care. We were on Top of the Pops circa 1978.
Suddenly our performance was illuminated and we both stopped mid wail by the sharp intake of breath which emanated from our 16 year old daughter’s lips. Our 16 year old daughter who was now standing by our bed, her hands over her eyes.
“Oh my God you are disgusting!” she exclaimed.
“No we’re not”, retorted Hubby, “We’re Cathy and Heathcliff, your mother is the jealous yin to my passionate yang”.
Our daughter shuddered, “Like I said, disgusting” and she turned on her heels and fled.
Hubby smiled and leant over and kissed me, “So Cathy”, he said, a steely glint in his eye, “Is your yin receptive to my yang?”
I pushed him off. “You can keep your yang well out of this”, I replied, firmly, thrusting a pillow between us.
“Spoil sport” replied Hubby huffily.
I kissed his shoulder, “Seriously, Charlotte Bronte not withstanding, change is in the air and it’s leaving me feeling nervous”. Hubby gave up, rolled back towards me and put me in the crook of his arm.
“Alice, sweetheart, if I must, I will quote yet another iconic pop artist, non other than the great Bob Dylan..”
“Times they are a changin’?” I proffered.
“Exactly”, replied Hubby.
“But I want things to stay the same; I don’t want the upheaval of changing times” and then I said it, “Please don’t go. Don’t go away from us again. I can’t bear it” I could hear his breathing being suspended.
“Alice love…”
“Everything will change”, I continued before he had a chance to try and placate me, “Everything. Our social lives, our domestic lives, our working lives. It will affect the lives of our children. Hell even that of the dog”
“He can come with me”.
I sat bolt upright. “Is that all you have to say? I am declaring my misery to you; my fear at being once again an abandoned Navy wife and you reassure me that the dog will be ok because he’ll have you? Your wife and kids bloody well won’t, but hey, don’t worry, the dog will be fine”. I was shouting now.
“Alice, please, don’t. It’s late. There is nothing we can do about it. After all these years you should be used to life in a blue suit. I will commute as I have before. You will get used to it. You will get into a routine. I am not going to sea and I am not going to war”.
That silenced me of course. Took the wind out of my sails immediately. We lay together in the dark, each too caught up in our thoughts to dare articulate them. It was time for damage limitation.
I fumbled around under the duvet searching for his hand and retreated my hand immediately as though electrocuted. He rolled towards me.
“I knew it” he murmured into my ear, “I knew you’d find my yang irresistible”.

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