The Remote Couple

 

            Rhoda Johnson finally found a parking space and parked her car.  She was about three streets away from the house she shared with her husband Gerry.  Now she'd have to lug all of year eight's English papers for what seemed like miles and right on cue, it started to rain.  Staggering into the house she dumped the papers on the dining room table.  Taking off her coat and shoes, she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea.  Sitting down in the armchair, she picked up the remote control and flicked through a couple of channels until she spotted something she wanted to watch.  There was an American sitcom on; it was a load of old rubbish but she watched it anyway.  When it was over she turned off the TV and chucked the remote on the sofa.  She looked at the clock and thought, Shit, I'd better get the dinner on.  She'd just got into the kitchen and started getting things ready when she heard the sound of her husband's key in the lock.

"That you, Gerry love?" she said as she walked into the hall.  "Everything alright at work?"

"Yeah.  Fine." He grunted shrugging off his wet coat.

            He didn't look fine, in fact he looked miserable as hell.  Rhoda went back into the kitchen and put the kettle on.  He always seemed grumpy nowadays, she thought.  She saw him through the kitchen door walk into the sitting room and slump into an armchair.  He picked up the morning papers as she brought him his cup of tea.  She put it on the coffee table in front of him. 

"Thanks." He said without looking up.

"I thought I'd do lamb chops."

"Huh.  What?"

"Lamb chops?"  Rhoda repeated.

"Yeah.  Fine Whatever."

            He was so bloody non-committal nowadays.  Getting a word out of him was hard work.  And he never listened to a word she said.  I don't expect him to hang on to my every word, Rhoda thought, but he could at least look as if he's paying attention to me.  He finished reading the papers and flung them down on the sofa.  Rhoda was chopping up carrots in the kitchen when she realised he was watching her.

"How long have we been married?" He asked.

"Eight years." She replied.

"Hmmm."

            He was looking at her in an odd way; vaguely hostile she thought.  He went back into the sitting room and she put the vegetables in the steamer and turned it on.  Looking into the sitting room, she saw he was rummaging around.

"I'm going to the shops tomorrow; do you want anything?"

            He didn't seem to hear as usual.  He was pacing around poking into corners.  Rhoda made a mental shopping list for tomorrow; carrots, she'd just used the last ones, teabags and watercress, if they had any.  Gerry walked into the kitchen.

"Have you seen the remote control?"

            Mentally tearing herself away from her shopping list, Rhoda thought, I had that.  Where is it?

"Er, is it on the side of the armchair?"

"No, it isn't there", Gerry snapped.  "If it was there I would have found it by now."

"Gerry, I'm trying to make the dinner.  Find it yourself."

"I've looked" he said.

"Oh, I know your ‘looked'," Rhoda said getting impatient.  "It consists of one quick look round and then it's ‘Rhoda, I can't find whatever."

"Jesus, it's always the same with you.  You're always putting me down."

"Me!  Putting you down!  You come home from work late all the time.  We barely exchange three words.  You never take me out anymore."

"You never take me out anymore" he repeated in a whiny sarcastic voice.  "Is it any wonder, the state you're in.  Jesus, you've really let yourself go."

            Rhoda retreated to the kitchen because she did not want him to see her cry.  He carried on rummaging in the sitting room.

"For Christ's sake, it must be here somewhere!"

            Rhoda came into the sitting room to lay the table.

"Where is the remote control?" he bellowed at her.

"How the hell should I know?" she yelled back, by now unable to stop crying.

"You don't know anything, you stupid bitch!  I'm fed up with this and I'm fed up with you!"

            He suddenly went quiet.

"I've met someone else." He said.

            Rhoda stood like a statue.  She couldn't move or speak.  She felt as if a vat of cold water had been poured over her head.  She had no emotion left inside of her.  There was no hate, no regret, no love, just numbness.  She went into the kitchen and turned off all the food.  There was no point in cooking anything.  Dinner was out of the question now.  She wanted to ask him a hundred questions.  Who is she?  Where did you meet?  How long has this been going on?  Instead she just stood in the centre of the sitting room as if she'd been frozen to the spot.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

            For the first time he really looked at her.  Then he turned around and went upstairs.  She heard him rummaging around up there but she didn't move.  He came downstairs about ten minutes later with a suitcase.  He gave her one quick look as he put on his coat and then he turned and walked out the door.  Suddenly Rhoda's legs felt as weak as melted candles and she had to sit down.  She slumped onto the pile of newspapers on the sofa.  She felt something hard dig into her hip and leaning sideways she grasped the object and pulled it out.  It was the remote control.