Open Writing

What was left of the Christmas Turkey lay on the meat platter on the kitchen worktop. Perhaps a twenty-pound bird for five people was a bit of overkill, but you just never can tell who might arrive unannounced ready to be fed. Anyway, the dogs would benefit because of our two-day rule, which is, that if food has not been eaten by the second day after it is cooked, our canine children get the lot and ‘bon appetite’ to them.

We took our stomachs and rested them on our knees in our celestial room where the doggies amused us by being cute as we talked of Mark’s latest attempt to quit the world prematurely by mounting the telescope on Ryan’s Christmas .22 rifle the wrong way round and then with a fatherly "I’ll show you how this is done!" raising the rifle to his shoulder like the exuberant musketeer he is, driving the rim of the scope into his forehead to the tune of eight stitches. No one who has known Mark any length of time was surprised.

Laura didn’t look well, and, as I had cooked the repast, I started to wonder if I had poisoned her. Gay asked her if she was okay, and she said she was, but in a way that told the practised observer of human behaviour that she was not. A few minutes later, I decided to try my arm and asked her what was the matter, "Nothing," she replied, in a tone that every married man will immediately recognise.

Three replies to enquiries about one’s spouse’s health or general condition should not only raise a red flag, but should sound the death knell for effective communication, especially any leading to the disclosure of a lady’s actual condition.

The first is an all-too-quick, "I’m fine!" and the second is an equally disastrous, "There’s nothing wrong with me!" The most damning and telling of all is the snapped, "If you have to ask, it doesn’t matter!" after which, the little lady turns on her heel and leaves at such speed that the draught caused by her skirt has actually been known to paralyse strong men.

I mused, which is always a sensible thing to do after a heavy dinner and before deciding that you have understood what your wife is trying to tell you by not telling you anything. I had heard all three responses, although the third is a very distant memory belonging to the era when I was dating immatures, and I was myself sufficiently immature to attempt to extend the debate beyond the exodus at the speed of light.

I have been told that the only way to break this kind of deadlock is by showering her with diamonds or the equivalent of the Royal Yacht, both of which are beyond my means.

However, I do live with a companion who frequently offers the first two come-backs when she is obviously neither ‘fine’ nor suffering from ‘nothing-wrong,’ either of which, in my experience, can be a sobriquet for anything from dog-tired to near-terminal.

It is not that my darling wants to withhold the true nature of her condition from me, for that would be contrary to the terms of our absolute honesty pact, but that she does not wish to cause me concern, and she believes that if she can tough it out for another twenty-four hours without complaint, it might go away by itself. To date, it never has.

When I was a mental health professional, I learned to read slight, almost imperceptible, differences in human behaviour. Many patients were incommunicable, yet it was not hard to tell when they were ill and needed the attention for which they would never ask. Now, that kind of expertise has become a source of irritation to my friends who tell me that they are doing well when their body language and voice quality declare otherwise.

My Gay is one who finds it uncomfortable because it means that she cannot hide from me that which she would hide from me but which she should not hide from me.

Those of us who have some experience of marriage will know that what I write is as true as if Dr Phil had said it! This is not written for their benefit, but for the benefit of young lads on the verge of married life with a beloved that will, at times, act peculiarly, and who will, at other times, not exactly speak with exactness, especially when you think she is unwell or upset, and you dare to ask her about it.

Brethren, that is not the time to enter into argument, but a time in which to enfold her in your arms, and tell her that you love her, and make a profuse apology. Nine times out of ten that will get you off the hook without you ever knowing what it is of which you are obviously guilty.

If she purrs and tells you sweetly that you have done nothing wrong, then she is unwell and you should soothe her brow, sit her down with a dish of strawberries and cream, and do all the housework as she watches Coronation Street. That will make her feel better, and when you have finished and put away your pinny and feather duster, she will have worked herself round to where she not only can tell you exactly what she is ailing, but to where she is also emotionally ready to tell you.

It takes time to develop this proficiency to the exalted level necessary for a successful marriage, but a successful marriage is worth whatever it takes to forge it. So, the next time you ask your darling how she is, suspecting that she might be unwell, listen very, very carefully to her answer.

Copyright © 2004 Ronnie Bray
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED