Freedom
Nimi Kurian
17 May 2009, 17:13His mother was now dead. He didn’t know what to feel – relief or grief. He just felt numb. Nothing seemed to register. He sat in the front room and looked at the empty chair. He couldn’t believe that she would never sit on that chair again ordering him around the house. Shouting at him if he came home late from work, questioning him closely to find out where he had been those extra five minutes. Excuses like, the bus did not come on time never did wash. She always thought he was out with a woman.
He shuddered at the memory of those questions.
“Where were you?”
“What did you do”
“Who were you with?”
“Did you come back on your own?”
“Was there a girl?”
On and on she would go. Endless, pointless questions which he never could answer. He was always so scared that he stuttered and stammered and ultimately it was like he was lying. Even to himself it sounded like he was lying. But now, everything had changed. From tomorrow he would be a different man. He would become the man he always wanted to be.
But how did he become like this? So scared, so submissive, so docile? He decided that the first thing he would do tomorrow would be to clear out the house. Throw away all her things. Clean out her room. Throw out the furniture and get new ones. He would make this apartment look good – the way a man’s apartment should look. Then he would go out and buy a chicken and cook it. He would eat it with rotis and a salad.
It was late when he went to bed. But it didn’t bother him. He didn’t have to go to work for another week. The office had been understanding. They had given him a week off to grieve for his mother.
“We understand the loss you have suffered…” they said. He had wanted to laugh, but then he just nodded and tried to put on a brave expression.
The whole of the week he put his mind to renovating and recreating his apartment. By the time he went back to work, it was just the way he wanted it to be.
It was with an easy mind and a jaunty walk that he set off to work. Finally, he thought, my life is going the way it should.
After work, when his colleagues were planning to go out for dinner, he asked them if he could join them. They were surprised, but agreed to let him come along. The evening proved to be a success and they made plans to go pubbing at the end of the week. He readily agreed.
On Friday night, he finished up early, so that he could be with the crowd that was to go to the pub. The pub itself was a big surprise. He was startled by the loud music and the crowd but above all by the dim lighting. When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw women…so many of them. In different shapes and sizes, different nationalities, differently dressed – some, he thought, hardly so.
They moved to the bar and placed their orders. He didn’t know what to order. And then suddenly he remembered that his father used to have whisky.
“Whisky,” he said. “On the rocks!” Drink in hand, he surveyed the crowd. His new-found friends seemed to know a lot of people and there was a lot of shouting and cheering in recognition. All the while, the music thumped on. Some of the people were dancing in the small space, oblivious to the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. He too began to relax and enjoy himself. He found himself being introduced to many women. Some were pretty, some not so, some were really hot while others were just nice. Some seemed pretty keen to talk to him and laughed loudly at anything he said, and listened to him with a keen interest as if they had never heard such intelligence before. But there was one pretty face that he liked more than all the rest. And he spent a rather long time talking to her.
By the time, he left the pub, he had her phone number in hand. Soon they became very friendly, then they fell in love and inevitably it was time for him to propose and he did so. When his colleagues asked him what he saw in her, his reply was emphatic, “She is so unlike my mother!” His colleagues thought it was very funny and slapped each on the back saying, “He’s alright!”
One month after the honeymoon, he thought he should go out with his mates once again. So he called home.
“Honey, I am going out to the pub with my mates. I may be late getting home.” His announcement was met with a stony silence, but he didn’t give it much thought. “Must be the static in the line,” he thought to himself.
He got home around midnight and realised it was not static but pure hell. He had to sleep out in the hall on the rather hard sofa with no sheet even. The next morning, she laid all the cards on the table. She would take care of finances, in fact she would take care of everything. He just had to go to work and get back – get back home on time!
Haha…I like this story! Although I think what you describe is a night-club rather than a pub.
— Roy · May 25, 04:12 · #
Looks like he was caught up with the Oedipus syndrome…, poor chap!!.
A story well written
— jude · Jun 7, 06:10 · #