I Don't Know Why

Please don't take this the wrong way but I would gladly mow you over in my car.  And as you careened off my hood and your face stuck to my windshield like a bug you would not see the deranged smile of a lunatic who has gone off his meds.  Instead, you would see just a man who's eyes communicate his panic, his desperation.  You would then understand that it is nothing against you.  That you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, that you were an unseen obstacle, a complication not considered. 

You would forgive and if you ever heard my story you would do the same thing should our positions be reversed. 

At the dinner table, Hossmom says nothing, she is silent.  Her face betrays her sadness as much as she tries to hide it.  Her fingers trace the outline of her plate, her fork tilts as she passes it.  Her glass is empty as she gazes at the light that comes through it.  Complicated patterns that seem divine, that seem to match her complicated mood. 

She looks up and stares at me.  She sees a man and notices that he has the cold sweats brought on by the unknown and the yet to come.  She sees the seeds of panic behind his eyes.  She sees the concern and also the terror in his face, his sweet stupid face.  Her anger rises but she cannot yet give it voice. 

Timidly, I ask her "What is wrong?"

She hesitates, almost embarrassed by her answer but she is compelled by an unknown force to give it. 

"I thought we were having hamburgers, I want a hamburger" she says, her voice getting stronger as each word passes her lips. 

Me, the man, realizes that he may have unwittingly doomed us all.  I'm so sorry, so very sorry. 

Tonight's dinner was supposed to be hamburgers.  A Hossman original recipe flavored with steak sauce and just a hint of dill.  They are quite good.  However, at the last minute, I changed the menu that my wife was expecting and apparently craving all day.  Instead, we are having chicken kabobs, another original recipe.  Apparently, it was the wrong one. 

Hossmom seems close to tears, I am close to being out of my mind.  I have ridden the emotional roller coaster of pregnancy for nine months.  We are at the end, so very close.  I have weathered every storm and apologized more than a politician on a Appalachian trail hike.  I have leapt over landmines, I have dodged thrown dishes, I have gladly taken the blame for everything that ails the world.  And yet, it's not enough.  There is still more to do.  I can hold it together for one more week, sweet Jesus just one more week. 

A burger, I will go get her a burger.  I tell her this but it does not seem to make her feel better, it makes her even more angry.  She asks why I changed the menu, how could I be so thoughtless and cruel?  I explained that we had to cook the chicken before it went bad.  She does not hear my reply and I don't know why I say it anyway, it does not matter.  My pregnant wife wants a burger, I must obey or we are all doomed. 

I tell her it's not a problem but now she says she feels bad, the last thing I want. She says that she will just eat what I cooked but then she looks at the dog.  In her head, she thinks the dog looks sad and I know that any minute crying may start.  I can make no sense of any of this but when could a man explain the emotions of a pregnant wife?  I plead with her.  I tell her corny jokes.  Hell, I even do a goofy dance just to see if I can get one smile from her while I gather my car keys.  I have debased myself to one liners and humiliation just to stay the tsunami that I fear is about to breach my walls. 

This is why I would mow you over in my car.  You understand, it's nothing persona right?  It's just that my pregnant wife is about to murder me in my sleep.  And god help you I am the last thing that stands between you and her weird cravings.  You are expendable, I am necessary for the good of us all. 

I try not to understand any of this anymore.  I just know that if it doesn't get done then my night is in for a world of shit.  She will sit on the couch after dinner and silently plot my destruction.  She will start finding reasons to correct me.  I missed a piece of paper that's on the garage floor when I picked up, how could I be so cruel?  I didn't wipe the soles of my shoes off after coming in the house, how could I be so cruel.  I didn't dust the back of the entertainment center, the kids aren't kid enough, the dogs nails aren't painted, how could I be so cruel?  Remember that time in college, 15 years ago, how could I be so cruel?

So to avoid this I run to my car and I may have to run you over.  I get the hamburger, exactly like she wants it and I hand it to her with trembling hands.  I fear that the slightest misstep and I will accidentally hit the launch button of her nuclear moods.  She takes it quickly and has dinner.  I sit silently at the table with her awaiting the outcome.  I pray. 

"Thank you honey" she says and she smiles.  A worldwide collective sigh can be heard.  Disaster averted.  I am not hero I'm just a man who wants peace. 

Hossmom goes to bed at 8pm, she says she is tired.  She kisses me on the head, I cringe expecting her to blame me for being so very very bald.   She goes to bed. 

Later that night, I am enjoying my well earned peace.  Perhaps I am thinking about the poor guy that I had to run down.  I am watching South Park.  I admit, it's immature and childish.  It's stupid and dumb but this is what I need.  I need mindless, I need not to think.  I need to zone out and relax.  I hear Hossmom coming down stairs. 

"I can hear that stupid show."

I laugh.  I am an idiot.  I should be better at this now.  "Sorry hun, I will turn it down." 

"No!"  she says.  "Turn it off."

I don't know why she is bothered by me watching TV.  I don't know why she is bothered by the what I am watching when she is not around.  I don't know why I couldn't just put in headphones.  I don't know why she couldn't close the door.  I don't know why this seems important to her.  I don't know why me watching TV by myself has anything to do with her.  I don't know why..................       I suppose I don't need to know why, perhaps the only smart decision I have made today.

One more week.  One more week.  Just one more week.  I can keep it together for one more week.  

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