Chapter 8
And so, we engaged in marital relations before breakfast.
One minute later, Kyle reached his conclusion, releasing himself inside me as he always did. Yes, it was quick, and no, I did not mind in the slightest. Though he never said as much, I was aware of his desire for children the way he remained unmoving inside me for a while. Whether the fault lay with him or with me was a mystery. Alright, if I am being honest, it is most likely me.
My body bore the marks of my past, scars crisscrossing my skin. Some had healed so poorly they appeared more like the handiwork of a butcher. Tragic, truly. Oddly enough, the skin above my breasts remained unscathed, a peculiar miracle that I still marvel at. Perhaps the deities saw fit to grant me this small mercy. Not that I am grateful.
In fact, as I lay dying in that forest four years ago, I had prepared a formal complaint to present to the deities upon my arrival in the afterlife. I intended to list, in painstaking detail, every grievance I had suffered under their watch. Yet, as fate would have it, I did not die, and they were spared my accusations. Blasted wretches. I still wonder how they determine one's fate. Did they scrawl life events onto scraps of paper, toss them into a jar, and leave me to blindly pluck a handful of misery? It certainly felt that way.
Back to children… if I am to be brutally honest, neither Kyle nor I are fit to be parents. Not remotely. We are too poor, too broken, too consumed by our own survival. I pray, quietly and often, that I never conceive. Yet, to be fair, I have done nothing to prevent it either. Unlike our neighbor, who regularly takes those questionable pregnancy-prevention tonics while carrying on an affair with another man. How do I know? She confided in me. Not that her scandalous affairs are any of my concern.
I dressed and made my way to the kitchen, only to find Kyle trailing after me, grinning so widely that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled like folded paper. This man was far too easily pleased, truly. I couldn't help but chuckle as I turned to him.
"Go and sit down," I commanded playfully. "I will manage the cooking."
"I want to help you cook," he insisted.
We usually settled with bread for breakfast, but today I planned to prepare rice with a medley of vegetable side dishes. Simple yet satisfying.
"Please, let me help, love," Kyle pressed on.
Seeing how insistent he was, I relented with a shrug. After all, an extra pair of hands chopping vegetables could hardly hurt. "If you truly wish to assist, then wash your hands and chop that cabbage into thin slices," I motioned toward the sorry-looking cabbage perched on the rough-hewn counter.
"Yes, love!" he declared with a salute, his enthusiasm positively overflowing. "Anything for my lovely wife!"
I smiled, setting a basket of vegetables on the table. As I began preparing the rice, Kyle reached for the cutting board from the cabinet.
"Yesterday, I saw a baby bear," he announced. "Tried to shoot it with my bow, but I missed every time."
"Oh, do continue."
"Well, the baby bear didn't take too kindly to that. It came runnin' at me, and I ended up legging it and climbin' a tree!"
The image hit me instantly. This tall, broad, muscular man fleeing from a baby bear. I couldn't contain the laughter that burst forth. "That cub must have been absolutely ferocious!" I said between fits of giggles, imagining Kyle clinging to a tree for dear life.
We spent the day preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, the kitchen transforming into a symphony of clattering pans and cheerful chatter. By the time dinner had been enjoyed, I revealed the true highlight of the day: the shoes.
With a flourish, I presented them to Kyle. His face lit up as though I had handed him a crown. He swept me into his arms and spun me around our modest living space.
"Thank you, thank you! Ya the best wife in the world! I love you so much!"
I smiled, though no words of love passed my lips in return. I have uttered those words before, only once. And to the wrong person. Ah, what a shame that was. I had been young, foolish, and far too eager to believe in the nonsense of fairy tales.