It was a lovely Sunday afternoon. He woke up to the mellow sunlight briskly entering his room. He was supposed to get out of bed and clean his car in the garage like he used to every week on that day. Afterwards, he should be trimming the grass in the lawn and spending his time looking at the progress of the seeds he sowed. For him, his plants were his kids, and he reserved his Sunday for them. He didn’t take any calls on that day from the office.
Today was different. He didn’t wish to get up. He wanted to stay in the room all day, with his quilt and the fragrance of his wife’s perfume in the bed. She was not home. She had been going as per her routine. She had woken up exactly like she used to in the morning and had gone to the market to purchase fruits to make her Sunday morning pudding.
He knew they had to talk. He knew his wife hasn’t been the same she used to be before. She didn’t sing like she used to before. Or forcefully take him to clubs at night, where she danced in the glittering lights like a lightening herself. He wanted to spend time with her today. He wanted to let her know that despite how busy he stays, and how uncaring he might be looking to her these days, and unacquainted she thinks he is with her pain, he wanted to hold her today and tell her that he loved her and that till they both have each other they will never be alone in their lives.
She bought packs of cream, some mangoes and a jar of sweetened cherries along with cartons of skimmed milk. She kept them on the cashier’s counter and stood there watching the lady on the other counter holding her child in one hand, as she struggled to pick the bags in the other. She hushed her baby and kissed it, as she walked to the door of the store, that opened itself as she approached it. She left. The person at the counter woke Madie of her wonders and told her the total amount. She apologised and checked her purse for the amount. She remembered she had to withdraw money from the ATM. She gave her card instead and left with her bags.
He looked outside, through the transparent, satin white curtains of the window. He saw his wife’s car parked outside the house. The lilies on the window panel looked as if they hadn’t been watered for days, and had gone withered. He noticed a layer of dust on the window panel. His wife loved that window and sat there every evening reading her collection of philosophy. It was her place of peace, where she felt away from the entire world; her own little world. Since he changed his job, he hasn’t been much in the house in the daytime. He missed seeing her sitting on that cushiony chair and smiling to him in her red frame spectacles. As he sat on the chair, he saw her book on the stool beside his chair also has a layer of dust on it. He got up and dialled his wife number, aking her when will she be back home. Her song began playing in the room and he saw her beeping phone beside the television.
She chose to drive her bicycle today to the supermarket. She felt the breeze on her face as she passed through the air, cycling through the roads. Her bag and the jar of cherries in her basket in the front of the cycle, she paddled. She took a turn to the right of the bridge, where she saw a little girl looking at her, standing by the streetlight. The girl took a step forward and Madie took a turn towards her.
He receives a call. He rushes to Parkington Street. A crowd is gathered around the yellow tape in the area alongside an ambulance. There’s a police car parked at a distance. He sees her on the floor alongside the broken jar of cherries, all shattered on the floor.