Just don't love

A man sets out to rewrite a series of unfortunate events to achieve happiness.

It was the two hundred and fiftieth time he’d tried to change the outcome of this scene. Naomi, was on the bed with her back to him, her thin shoulders shaking as she cried. Kefilwe reached out his hand and froze the moment, and with an effort of will rewound time to fifteen minutes before the fight.

It was one of their dumber ones. He’d left a dirty plate in the sink, and one of her rare occasions in the kitchen she’s happened to see it, and horror of horrors a cockroach had skittered across it. She had been livid, telling him that she had begged him to keep that area clean!

Of course that only led him to ask when was the last time she even cooked for her to be so vocal, and then they were off to the races. It was that exact moment he kept rewinding to, trying to find a more palatable turn of affairs to little effect.

This time he would rewind to before the fight. He stopped at the moment when he’d left the dishes in the sink to soak. He instead poured dishwashing liquid in the stained saucepan, bits of burnt steak still stuck to the base, and in the pots he’d used to make the soup, and cook the macaroni. He’d scrubbed them clean in minutes, rinsed them under cold water and left them in the dishrack to dry.
He was feeling pretty good about this new tack, falling onto the bed with a big smile on his face. He checked the time on his phone. 16:45. Five minutes before Naomi got home. He watched a couple of clips on YouTube then, cocked his head at the sound of the front door opening. Right on cue. He didn’t know why he hadn’t tried this from the beginning. No dishes, no fight.

When she came into the bedroom, he opened his mouth and then froze at her rigid face. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong? Why didn’t you dry the dishes you used, and pack them away?” Naomi asked.

“What?”

“What what? I asked you a simple question. You always do this. You never listen to what I say, and then act dumb.”

“Are you serious right now? You’re actually starting an argument about drying dishes?” Kefilwe couldn’t wrap his head around this turn of events.

“What argument? I’m only asking you to keep the kitchen clean. Is that so hard?”

“Well how would you know if it’s hard or easy when you’re barely in there?” The question just slipped out before he could catch it, and when her eyes narrowed he knew he’d messed up.

“So you want me to always be in the kitchen, is that right?” she asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kefilwe replied.

She was standing over him at this point. “No, no I’m glad we’re finally getting to the truth of things. You think a woman’s place is in the kitchen, don’t you?!”

His heart sank. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Did it mean he should make the two hundred and fifty first attempt to fix this. Instead he asked, “This isn’t about dishes, is it?”

“Oh, so you mean I am faking a fight you started?” she said.

He wiped at his face with one hand, straightening up against the headboard and looked at her levelly, “No, I’m saying i’ve tried this every which way I can, and yet we still end up back here. What’s really wrong? Something is wrong.”

She was leaning forward as if ready to tear him to shreds, then abruptly she deflated, hands falling to her sides, and met his eyes. She swallowed, once, twice, and said, “You’re right. Something is wrong.”

He waited.

“I can’t pinpoint when, or why, but this has just stopped working.”

A pain seemed to settle around his heart, as he listened.
“Everything you do just seems to madden me for some reason. I think, no I know that I just don’t love you in the same way anymore.”

The pain coalesced into a fist tightening around his heart. Naomi came to sit down next to him. He watched her from the corner of his eye, not daring to meet her eyes and thus be forced to speak. She reached out and took his hand.

He could hear the tears in her voice when she said, “I’ve been so afraid to tell you, but I can’t pretend anymore. It’s not even you. I don’t know why I feel this way. I just do.”

Kefilwe considered rewinding time again. What would be the use though? He knew the truth when it was staring him in the face. Well now that it had been given voice. He knew it from their constant, silly fights, and their lack of intimacy. They hadn’t even kissed in months. He nodded his head dumbly, still too fragile to speak.

From there things went fast. She moved into the guest room that night, and by the first of the month she had found a new place, and moved. Leaving him with all the time in the world to play with, and yet no idea what to do with it.