Lost Fight
It wouldn’t be fair to say she lost due to not trying — even though she didn’t.
Really, she had been trying for too long.
In the past seven years of marriage, Lois aged as fast as her decaying used car, which had been gifted from her secondhand husband when they were newly married (both now in dire need of replacement). The car was a troublesome necessity, but the hubby was even more problematic.
The notion that she was wasting her life had become inescapable. In spite of rejecting the idea the first time it entered her mind some years earlier, it had become her closest companion since. She felt like the conductor of a continuously deteriorating armored train hauling dilapidated and volatile weapons towards an approaching cliff without a bridge. Yet, she couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t get off.
If the relationship had become one parade of clashes interspersed with occasional ceasefires, it certainly seemed she had finally surrendered when refusing to engage in this latest provocation.
Somewhere in the past, she had vociferated they should audio-record their next argument and then whoever felt the most aggrieved could simply replay it alone and save the other some frustration. Although her words were offered in spite, if they had actually made such a recording, she would have cause to listen to it now.
Regardless, this time, as a result of utter exhaustion, she resigned herself to losing. Simultaneously, she asserted to herself she would win the next bout decisively.
Then it happened.
Or, more correctly, it didn’t.
By the simple expedient of not reacting to the latest indignity, nothing occurred. No argument. No yelling. No slammed doors. No threats of divorce. No back and forth of each rerunning the other’s list of failings, whether real or perceived.
To be clear, she wanted to rage. She felt obligated to cuss how wrong he was. She wanted to tell him it was over. Again.
But she didn’t.
Instead, too tired to fight, she apologized.
Hence, in her mind, she lost. More than ever she needed a good night’s sleep and if the mental cost of losing was too high this time, she’d make it up in the next battle.
Yet, he didn’t say anything more about it.
Lois went outside to inspect the driveway and realized she had parked her dinged, dented and dejected car closer to the center than usual, requiring him to park part of his truck on the worn section of grass beneath the tires. Again. So, OK, maybe he wasn’t always wrong.
If that wasn’t enough, he was civil at dinner. She was certain the issue would be rehashed and she didn’t want to deal with it. But it wasn’t. Instead, they had a pleasant conversation about going for a walk by the river on Saturday.
Still, he could have been less gruff when pointing out her imperfect parking and driving. It’s not like she does it every day. Furthermore, not all the dents were her fault.
Oh. And to top it all off, as part of her annual review at work earlier in the day, she was formally issued a second warning that if she couldn’t control her temper, she would be let go. That was ammunition she wasn’t about to provide her husband.
Later, as her suppressed anger subsided, she took a shower and went to bed early, pondering how the evening had not exploded in recriminations. With the sensibilities of sleep and solace closing in on another day, Lois couldn’t help but wonder, did she really lose?
by George Alger
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