Communication in marriage might not be as easy as we would like it to be. We can have a hard time getting our point across.

 

At times, we say things we may regret. This becomes obvious in . . .

 

 

Sid And Janis—A Love Story?

 

     It was a beautiful morning. Birds singing in the fresh fall air made my heart dance. The sun warmed my back, as I strolled through our wonderful neighborhood. I knew everybody and, for the most part, we all got along.

     Walking toward the Joneses’ house, I spied something rather strange happening. Henry Jones rolled a large wooden box, which looked like a casket, on a dolly down his driveway to his Buick SUV, parked with its rear hatch open. Seeing me approach, he rushed to push the box up a makeshift ramp into the back of the vehicle. Slamming the hatch down, he turned and ran into the house.

     I didn’t know what to make of it. Why was he rolling a casket down his driveway? Why did he appear so upset to see me? Should I call the police? No, not right now, I thought. But I do have to tell Janis.

     I looked around. Seeing nobody else on the block, I started running. I raced down the street and bolted through the front door of my house. “Janis, Janis,” I shouted. “Where are you?”

     “I’m in the kitchen, Sid,” she replied, somewhat annoyed.

     As I entered the room, she sat at the kitchen table with a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake on the plate in front of her and her fork on the floor next to her foot. She looked at me, as if I’d done something wrong. “Your shouting scared me, Sid. What do you want?”

     “You should’ve seen what just happened,” I gasped.

     “All right, what happened?”

     “That neighbor of ours, you know, the guy named Jones. What he did was unbelievable,” I said, panting.

     “Well, what did he do?” she asked.

     I stood there with a blank expression on my face.

     “Are you going to share it with me or what, Sid?” she demanded.

     “Uh, let me catch my breath. I sprinted all the way down the block to tell you the news.”

     “If it’s that important, Sid, out with it already,” she screamed, in a high-pitched voice. “If I have to wait a minute more, I’m going to blow a fuse.”

     I had trouble handling her impatience. I never seemed to do things on her time schedule. “Okay, okay,” I yelled, in frustration.

     “Don’t raise your voice to me, mister,” she screeched. “I’m your wife.”

     “Yeah, yeah, you’re the woman of my dreams, my ‘Mrs. Wonderful.’”

     “Just keep it up, Sid,” she said, in a harsh voice. “You’re trying my patience and I’m not going to take much more of this crap from you.”

     This was my life with Janis, always confrontational. I pulled myself together, collected my thoughts, and tried to tell her what I’d witnessed. However, by this time, she appeared to be at her wits end with me. I wondered what was going on in her mind. She had a glare in her eyes. She seemed so uptight. I wished I knew what to say to help her relax.

     Using caution, I muttered, “Uh, uh, . . .”

     However, before I could get the words out of my mouth, she turned my world upside down.

     “Youuuuu. You’re driving me crazy,” she roared.

     I began to shake. I needed to get out of there. I headed toward the hallway in an effort to remove myself from what I perceived to be the direct line of fire. But . . . I didn’t move fast enough.

     Janis bellowed, “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not leaving before telling me what happened. That’s what you came in here to do and you’re going to do it—now! Sid.”

     So we were back where we started, like every discussion we’d had in the past. I had something to say, important facts to convey, but Janis always turned things upside down causing complete chaos.

     “Janis, I’ve had it with you!” I shrieked, overwhelmed by her harassment. “I’m not going to let you treat me like this any longer. I want a divorce.”

     “Huh? Oh, my God!” she exclaimed.

     I could see the pain on her face. She sat there and stared at me in disbelief. She appeared to be at a loss for words—something not characteristic of Janis. I didn’t like seeing her hurting. After all, she had been my wife for thirty-two years and divorce had to be the last resort.

     “Janis,” I murmured. “I do love you. I don’t want a future without you.”

     She looked at me and breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t want you to leave me either. I need you,” she said, in a soft voice.

     I thought about beginning our conversation about neighbor Jones again, but caught my tongue before uttering a word. No, this would not be the best time, I concluded.

     Instead, I said, “I’m sorry for starting the argument.” But I thought, I hadn’t started it. However, this had worked in the past to get our life back on track. So why not try it now?

     She responded, “Thank you for admitting you were wrong. I appreciate that you’re taking responsibility.”

     I almost choked on her words. She’d been wrong, not me. However, instead of saying anything I might regret, I whispered, “Let’s just move on with our lives. I don’t want to argue anymore.”

     With a broad smile on her face and joy in her voice she said, “I’ve got some things to do. Then I’ll make us a nice dinner. Let’s eat around six.”

     Dinner was delicious. Janis outdid herself. The pork chops, baked potatoes, and applesauce tasted great.

     “Did you enjoy the dinner,” Janis murmured. “I tried to make everything the way you like it.”

     “Yes, you did, . . . and I loved it.”

     “And me, too?”

     “Yes, you, too.”

     That night we slept cuddled together—capturing the loving past we’d both forgotten. In the morning, we awoke to the sun coming through the bedroom blinds. Our eyes met and my heart pounded, as I awaited her words of love, . . .

 

 

And now, a question I need your help in answering. I am considering three possible endings to the story. Please read them below and let me know, at slolowe@icloud.com, which one of the three would be the best ending. The choice that receives the most “Yes” votes will become the story's ending. Thank you in advance for your help.

 

 

Ending 1

but what poured out of her mouth, was not what I’d expected. In a somewhat condescending tone, she questioned, “So what did neighbor Jones do? You’re not going to leave me hanging, are you?” Well, we were back where we started, and divorce was looking better all the time.

 

Ending 2

 

but not wanting to chance revisiting yesterday’s uncomfortable conversation, I grabbed her, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her passionately. She was so taken aback, not another word was spoken about what I’d tried to tell her. I never pursued the subject with her again, nor did I ever find out the truth about neighbor Jones’s “casket.”

Ending 3

 

but my world was rocked again by what came pouring out of her mouth. Her uncompromising manner was frightening, as she stated, “You were so right yesterday. You did start the argument, as always. And taking responsibility does not make it all go away. You need help. So, do I call a marriage counselor . . . or do I need a lawyer?”

 

 

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