Three is a crowd: David is losing, home and away

David and Diane have been married for years; then there is Julie, the young secretary whose axis collides with the couple’s in ways none of them saw coming.

DAVID

Even though I was infuriated by Diane’s late arrival for my father’s funeral service, I somehow managed to tune her out for the rest of the service, as I focused on the glowing eulogies honoring and remembering my father, from the different speakers.

I was the last to speak, and spoke of what a great man, husband, father and grandfather, my father had been, and all the values and lessons he had taught me. Compared to the prior speakers, my own eulogy was short, but that was not for lack of words but, rather, that the words were too hard to say.

Scared of getting overwhelmed by my emotions, I kept it short, and hurried back to my seat, my head bowed so that no one would see the tears filling my eyes.

The service ended soon after that, and after escorting the coffin out of the church and having it loaded into the hearse, I joined my mother and sister in greeting and accepting the condolences from mourners as they filed out into the church’s courtyard.

I saw Julie out of the corner of my eye, but she made no move to approach me, or join the queue of other mourners, instead heading in the opposite direction to the car park. I appreciated her discretion, even as part of me wanted to call her back, hug her, and thank her for being there, for being her.

I also saw Diane. She was standing with the children, off to one side of the queue of mourners, watching it with an almost tangible air of impatience, like she wished they would just hurry along, so she could talk to me, which is what she was clearly waiting to do.

I ignored her, as I continued shaking hands with the mourners, and then talking to the priest who had officiated at the service, thanking him for a job well done. I was happy to make her wait, but inevitably, the queue thinned out, my conversation with the priest ended, and as soon as he walked on, she made a beeline for me.

Knowing Diane would only upset my mother more than she already was, I told my sister to take her to the car, and as she led her away, I reluctantly turned back to the direction Diane and the children were approaching from.

DIANE

After literally ignoring the children and I during his father’s funeral service, not even giving us so much as a mention during his eulogy, David continued to act as though we were invisible after the service, as he kept us waiting while he gave his attention to everyone else but us!

I felt my temper rising as I watched him, especially when the girls started whining about being hot, tired and thirsty, which only added to my irritation.

I was on my last nerve, just about to march up to him and forcefully interrupt his conversation with the priest who had officiated the service, when the priest saved me the trouble by walking off, and spotting my opportunity, I grabbed the girls’ hands, and leaving Daniel to hurry along, headed purposefully towards David.

He saw us coming, and waited for us to reach him, with an expression that was a mix of resignation, boredom and irritation, that he hid as he greeted the children, but quickly resurfaced when he turned to me.

“We’re about to set off; what is it?” he asked coldly.

His attitude made me feel less guilty about the bombshell I was about to drop.

“The kids and I won’t be coming for the funeral,” I announced in response.

Whatever he had thought I was going to say, it clearly was not that, for his brow furrowed in shock and disbelief, and his eyes narrowed as his expression changed from one of boredom and irritation to one of fury and something akin to hate and disgust.

“Why not?” he finally asked, after a few seconds of silence as he processed my words.

“For starters, like I told you at the house, I can’t drive all the way to the village, and you won’t give me the driver. Besides that, you’re clearly busy with your mother and sister, and I can’t handle the three children on my own; so, I figured it would be best we just stay.”

“If you can’t drive to the village, or handle three kids on your own – your kids, by the way – why didn’t you just pack their bags and give them to me? I don’t have a problem handling my children,” he retorted snidely, and then without waiting for an answer, jeered and continued: “I don’t have time for this; I’ve got to go.”

And without even saying goodbye to the children, he turned and walked off.

JULIE

Having paid my final respects to David’s father (it still felt too raw to refer to him as ‘late’), I forced myself to go on with my plans for the rest of the day, heading to the Katosi site, and even managing to fit in an hour-long driving lesson before going to pick Junior up from the daycare on my way back to the apartment.

We got back a little after six, and after releasing the driver for the evening, and asking him to return at seven the next morning, it was immediately on to my usual evening chores; bathing and feeding Junior before putting him to bed, and then turning my attention to cleaning the apartment, doing the laundry, and getting ready for the next day.

Keeping busy was good; it helped keep my mind off how much of an outsider I had been made to feel like over the past two days, from the way David had rushed me out of the vigil, to how he had not so much as glanced at me during, or after, the service.

I know that was because his wife was there, but that did not make me feel any better. She had arrived late for the service, but her and their children’s seats had still been reserved for them on the front row, even though that meant that they had to walk down the full length of the church, disrupting the service in the process.

Furthermore, despite the rudeness of her late arrival at the service, once it ended, I had seen her and their children waiting for David, no doubt to join him for the trip to the village for the burial.

It was as though no matter how much she messed up, nothing she did could affect her position as his wife, or the respect and recognition that came with that position.

On the other hand, no matter how much I tried to support or be there for him, it was never enough to elevate my status in his life, and although he took what I did for him – when it suited him – it was just as easy for him to push me out of the way when my presence was an inconvenience.

I hated these thoughts; so, I distracted myself from them with work and chores; those came naturally to me; so, I found them familiar, soothing almost. It was a lot easier to deal with dirty dishes than an aching heart.

margaretwamanga@yahoo.com