THE YELLOW DRESS(Francys Wagner) By half past six Alfred would be home. I hoped he would.
I was starting to get anxious when he arrived in his noisy way.
He usually slammed the door, which I hate. I never understood why...
I told him there was a surprise and the face he made was like "what is she up to?" or maybe I sensed a certain disdain, like "I couldn't care less about your surprise", and I pretended I didn't see it.
Well, I made that up...actually, it wasn't me, it was my therapist's idea.
"Create a situation that recalls some good time in your lives, and take the opportunity to talk about your life together...see what has changed..."
I spent the afternoon then, preparing a dinner that was the same, impossible, but at least similar to the first time he asked me out... eight years ago. From the food to the table decoration, taking advantage of my day off college, where I am an Arts teacher.
I told him to take a shower, as I was pretty sure if I didn't, he'd go sit in front of the TV to play video games or watch football on one of the subscription channels. It made me feel like I was his mother and not his wife.
I had already organised everything in the dining room. I went to the bedroom to change into the yellow dress I wore on our first date.
The amazing thing is that I kept it, because I really liked to wear it and it still looked great on my body.
Before he would appreciate what I wore, now I can be naked in front of him and he won't even notice...
I don't know what I miss.... the pseudo jealousy or the awakening of desire in him... I must have turned into an invisible person and I didn't know, or maybe I don't arouse interest in him anymore...

Alfred got out of the shower, drying his hair, rubbing it with the towel, which he then threw in a corner of the room along with the used clothes he took off before entering the bathroom. Sometimes he would just throw the towel on the bed...
As it was a day I wanted to be stress-free, I didn't say anything. So I asked him to put on a going out outfit. To which he replied.
"What for? I'm not going anywhere..."
"It's part of the surprise, please..."
"I'm not understanding anything..." he grumbled.
"You'll understand soon...", I said.
On the table were glass bottles with candles, and the white crockery was decorated with blue arabesques, showing off a golden edge... a gift from his mother... who every time we met, would always cynically comment.
"My son, look you're getting old... in a little while you'll be a grandpa and you haven't even been a daddy yet..." She always made a point of looking in my direction for my reaction. What an annoying woman. She already had five grandchildren. Two from her eldest son plus two from her daughter, waiting for the third. Why more ? Besides, it was me who had to want or decide to get pregnant. I never thought I would be a mother...

I tried to make something similar to what we had eaten at the restaurant, that is, I tried making lasagna...the succulent type. I know I'm not a bad cook, but with him you never know what he'll think...
He hardly paid any compliments to what I've been doing lately. At the beginning of our relationship it was different. I don't remember when he stopped praising...
Alfred unwillingly got ready and we went to our private dinner.
As soon as he entered the dining room...
"Are we saving power?"
"No...don't you remember what day it is?"
"I have no idea..."
"Eight years we've been together..."
He made a face. How disheartening.
I put the plate on the table. He looked emotionless.
"Do you remember ?"
"What?"
"Our first dinner"
"Vaguely..."
"We ordered lasagna... and you liked it a lot..."
"I think it was good..."
"Tonight I tried to make it exactly the way we ate there..."
"Can I have rice?"
"I didn't make rice..."
"You know I like to eat lasagna with rice.."
"Really? I had forgotten..."
"What is that?"
"Salad, don't you see?"
"But what's in it?"
"Vegetables, leafy greens, herbs and nuts..."
I started to get upset.
"Gee, I know you like lasagna so much..."
"I like what mom does..."
"So you don't like what I do?" I retorted.
"It's edible..."
Really? Did he really say that?
"It's nice to know you prefer your mother's lasagne...," I muttered.
"I said nothing..."
"You clearly said.... mine is edible...meaning it's not as good as your mother's..."
"What's wrong with saying that? What's the problem?"
"No problem at all. Thank you for your honesty."
"Are you hurt by that?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know, if you don't tell me..."
"What's happened to us, Alfred?"
"What are you talking about?
"We're not the same as before..."
"I don't see anything different."
"How can you not? Are you blind, or are you making a fool of yourself?"
"What are you saying?" He frowned.
"I'm being realistic..."

We no longer look like the couple in love from years ago. My therapist thinks there's a lack of dialogue in our relationship, but I've always tried to talk. He had been different for some time now and I don't know what the reason was. As if by magic, something changed in his head.
He lowered his head and continued eating. Cutting a generous chunk of dough, he scratched the plate with his knife. Then brought it to his mouth, chewing noisily.
I had the impression that he was crushing rocks, instead of stuffed boiled and baked pasta. I don't know why he hits that plate...he'll end up cracking the porcelain.... Before it didn't bother me, but now, in the silence of the environment, that shattering noise hurt my ears...
"Would you like some wine Alfred? I bought this one that goes well with lasagne..."
"I'd prefer my beer..."
He's definitely not the same. That almost aggressive tone of response doesn't remind me of the man I married.
That's right, drink your beer...
His pouch, that he used to show off with pride and joked that he could even scrub clothes with it, now looks like a ball that is becoming more inflated every day... Of course he doesn't exercise any more. Not even the walks in the evenings that we used to enjoy together, now I walk alone...
The house, which, even with him here, seems emptier. Sometimes when I look at him, I get the impression that I'm living with a stranger that I've become familiar with.... A stranger who once in a while, during the night, looks for me in bed, without any emotion, simply to satisfy a need of his. To empty the tank, about to overflow...maybe that's still why I don't think he has someone else, but the cold, mechanical contact makes me feel like I'm an object...

In the dark of the room, I can feel his body weighing on mine...no words...no caress...no foreplay...just his groan as he finishes and falls to his side, then sleeps, only to start, in a few minutes, the bizarre snoring lullaby....
Normally, he is using more than half the bed, and almost throwing me to the floor. Sometimes I wish there was someone hiding in the wardrobe, on night duty, to do the job Alfred did badly...

The next day, I will wake up, somewhat exhausted, from insomnia, and discover to my horror that what was sleeping next to me was not a handsome prince, but an ogre...
So some nights, I go downstairs and sleep on the sofa in the living room...

"We need to talk Alfred"
"About what?"
"About us..."
"What about us?"
"Our life together...that is...if I can call it that..."
"I don't understand you, Julia.
"We seem like two strangers living in the same house..."
"What an exaggeration!"
"It's not, unfortunately..."
"What do you want?"
"I don't want... we need to understand each other..."
"But we don't fight, we don't argue..."
"That's why there's no life between us..."
"I think you're going crazy.
"Me crazy? Well, when was the last time we went out to see a movie?
"I don't remember..."
"That we went out to dinner or somewhere like we used to do, just for fun?"
"We're not young anymore..."
"Don't make me laugh Alfred...we are still young... eight, seven, six years ago...everything changed..."
"You know, Julia, I'm a busy man.
"You always were, but you found time for both of us."
"The company demands a lot from me..."
"Then you should stay married to the company and not marry me..."
"You like to be dramatic..."
"I don't. I feel like I don't exist for you anymore. Do you have someone else?
"Of course not..."
What happened to us that we got to this point?
He looked at me with an angry expression.
"Is that what this dinner was for?"
"For what?" I played dumb.
"For you to pick on me?"
"No...it was so we could have some time to ourselves..."
"And what you wanted to discuss was this nonsense?"

I wanted to get up from my chair and choke him. Besides the indifference of the last years, and his irritating attitude, I was beginning to sense something I couldn't describe...maybe hurt...disappointment...regret for having wasted all this time dedicating myself to a person who had no time for me...
He always had the same excuses. A last minute report... a problem to solve in the company that can't wait, or else hours distracted watching something...I was practically not part of the world he lived in.
I don't know when we started to lose ourselves.

I'm pretty sure that if I leave home and don't come back for a few days, he won't even notice I'm gone, unless he looks at the stove and there are empty pans, or the fridge starts running out of the snacks he likes while he's drinking his beer.
When there are no more clean towels in the cupboard and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room reaching almost the ceiling...
The person who used to collect them every day no longer works overtime in the house....
That thought was going through my mind now...

"I think Alfred, there is no more love..."
"What are you talking about?"
"You don't love me anymore."
"I'm married to you, aren't I?"
"It doesn't mean anything."
"Damn it Julia, we are together aren't we?" Alfred raised his voice.
"Stop and think please...be honest with yourself...reflect...do you think there is still love between us?"
"I don't know... I think so..."
"I don't think so... there's an accommodation..."
"Huh?"
"We are used to each other, that's all. We don't hate each other but we don't love each other anymore...."
"And what do you want us to do?"
"I think we need to take a break..."
"What do you mean?
"Before this dinner I thought there was some hope for our relationship..."
Alfred looked at me with a surprised expression. "And?"
"From your reactions I can see that our story is over..."
"You want to separate is that it? Was all this clowning around to tell me that?"
"No...I thought there might be a solution for us...but it was an illusion on my part...wanting to save what has long been lost...I just didn't want to see it..."
"You talk as if I'm the worst person in the world to live with."
"No, Alfred. Maybe it's me who is tired of everything...maybe I need a new direction in my life..."
"If that's what you want... don't wait any longer...", he blurted.
"So that's it?"
"What do you expect? That I'd be here on my knees begging for you?"
"How insensitive, Alfred..."
"It's your choice, Julia, not mine."
"Okay... so be it..."

Alfred rose from the table, taking the bottle of beer with him. I stood watching him walk and disappear into the corridor. I took one more sip of wine. Incredibly, I was calm. I didn't even cry. I began to realise that for quite a while now, it wasn't just me that Alfred didn't notice, but everything I did too. He didn't see it.
The change of furniture in the living room. The wallpaper in the bedroom and the new lamps on the bedside tables. Not a word of praise or disapproval. As if nothing had happened.
There was no more complicity, not even to make the shopping list.
He would leave in the morning, as I also did on certain days of the week, and return in the evening. Even if I had some free time to talk or be more intimate, he was never available...
Romanticism had traveled from our lives, taking everything in its suitcase...and didn't even say goodbye...

I blew out the candles and turned on the lights, put the dishes and cutlery in the dishwasher. I undid the table decoration...
Tonight a new stage begins for me... I thought.
I grabbed my bag, my car keys and went out into the night.
It was autumn and the air was a bit cold.
I drove towards the seaside.
I had no idea where I was going.
I saw a luminous sign that caught my attention.
It was an old building, neoclassical style, which had been transformed into a hotel.
I decided to spend the night in that hotel. "Why not"
I went up to my room on the fifth floor. I opened the curtains and looked at the streetlights.
The sea was a single blackness, that had disappeared into the dark sheets of the night.
As the hours progressed, the movement of the street below slowed down. I could hear the waves of the sea breaking on the sand, cradling my sleep...
I slept wonderfully...
I put on the yellow dress that I wore last night... I was ready to have my breakfast before leaving.
Soon after, I walked barefoot along the sands towards the sea.
The wind ruffled my hair and brought the sea air.
I came closer and entered the sea when a wave crashed at my feet. Drops splashed on my body, as if blessing me and my plans for a new beginning.
I felt more sure of myself and freer than ever...

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