Davide Castel Davide Castel
Recommendations: 39

Yes...ring the ambulance!

Davide Castel Davide Castel
Recommendations: 39

Yes...Beware of a woman scorned!

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Goldie Kohli Goldie Kohli
Recommendations: 4

Just in time

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She had a friend.

She loves her husband, no doubt.

I love my husband a lot. Don't get me wrong. Don't let the events of that day change your opinion of me.

It was a Saturday and the kids were out for sport and wouldn't be back before the evening. It is intriguing how a man made object such as a ball can have an almost universal attraction to young men as if it was part of their evolution. Or is it related to their inherent competitive streak, though I must admit women are as competitive as men.

My husband was in the bathroom in the morning having a shower. I heard the shower running as I was in the room getting ready when I  heard a thud from inside the bathroom. I yelled out his name but their was no answer. I was pretty sure he was inside as he had entered while I was in the room. Had he slipped and hurt his head? He had no history of heart disease and he was quite fit, playing soccer once a week even now, with his friends.

We had met through some friends who had played Cupid to help me come out of the nasty breakup that I had recently been through. My friends had sold me his virtues, he was nice and caring, looked good had refined tastes had a good job and was looking for someone having gone through a breakup himself. He was lonely and I needed someone. We met and I didn't feel uncomfortable with him, which was a plus as I nitpicked at even slight faults in all men.

I was open and willing to meet him and see how it would shape up. I had moved in with him within six months and got married after another six. Over twelve years we had achieved two kids, a house, some trips around the country, some money in the bank and no other liabilities. My job in the bank was going well and I was moving up the ladder.

He was charming and other women loved his flirtatiousness. They did not push their luck as they thought we were inseparable. He enjoyed making me jealous and we laughed about it though at times I had to work on convincing myself that it was clean fun and this brought a little freshness to the relationship. He did not mind when I flirted with his friends and he said he trusted me.

I panicked and knocked on the door. No reply. I turned the handle and it opened. He was lying on the floor, his left cheek close to the ground, vomit was still oozing out of his mouth and had both hands clenched between his knees that were drawn up. There was no sign of bleeding and he was breathing quickly.

I love my husband whatever the neighbours might say to our occasional arguments that might have got out of hand as he threatened to hit me. In a day or two we would make up, wondering what had brought on those bouts of his anger.

I must call the ambulance, quick. Or should I? I was surprised I even questioned this natural action that I must take. After all no relationship was perfect and was a work in progress till we die. 1 comment

He might die if I did not take some action right away. Maybe he had slipped and fallen. But what was the vomit for? Had he suffered a stroke? I need to call the ambulance I thought. If I did not and he died the police might suspect me. Suspect me? Why was I even thinking of such questions? The normal reaction should have been a total gripping by the fear of losing my husband and either screaming for help or calling the ambulance. The neighbours would have come and helped.

He groaned in pain, a soft whisper of a groan. He was not dead but depending on my action or non-action his fate would be decided. I felt detached from my thoughts and was amused that saving him was the logical thing to do but did it make that the only choice available to me? If I let him die would I feel guilty? Guilt? That would come from an ethical dissonance. Was saving my own husband an ethical question or was it beyond the scope of ethics. I just had to dial the emergency number, three digits and help would be on its way.

What if the stroke rendered him paralysed and turned him into a vegetable. I would be left to provide him full-time care and become dependent on government agencies. Would I still love him?

There were so many questions and one question that was gnawing at me was where were these coming from when the only course available to me was so simple.

I came out of the bathroom and wiped the door handle with a clean cloth and shut the door. I would need to leave him to make the telephone call. I went to the telephone and opened the drawer under it. I moved the socks and came to the envelope. I opened it. The smell of her perfume hit me like an insult. I clenched my teeth and let the tears come. I closed the envelope and placed it back. 1 comment

My fingers moved to the phone. The perfume came back. My fingers withdrew and instead took out the envelope again. I walked slowly to the kitchen and lit the gas stove. The fire burned slowly and changed colours. I put the paper on it. It quickly burned. I scraped the ashes, put them into the bin, turned on the radio and took the washing out just in time as the sun came out.

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