Perspective

Article 011.

The calamari was perfectly battered and dipping it in the creamy cilantro sauce is heavenly. The hibiscus lemonade was tart albeit colorful. Maybe a few more drops of agave and it would’ve been really refreshing. Didn’t stop me from finishing the entire glass though. The steak fajitas was cooked medium-well and had a good bite on it. With guacamole, sour cream and pico de gallo, it was all delectable inside the warm flour tortilla. Overall it was a good meal, complemented by a good conversation with an older, let’s just say lady friend, that I haven’t had the pleasure to personally acquaint with. She had coffee for her drink, which was a bit unusual since coffee is typically after the meal. A margarita would’ve been more fitting and besides, we were in a Mexican restaurant, coffee wasn’t even on the menu. To each his own I suppose. Earlier when I picked her up at her AirBnB, she looked tired. She had that look that prompted me to ask if she was okay to still go out. She said, “Yes, we good!” On our way to dinner she explained that she just traveled from San Diego to Vancouver to Phoenix to Vegas and back to Cali in a two-week span and just got back last night. Which again prompted me to ask if she was still okay to go out. “I slept the entire day. So I’m good!” It was the last time I asked.

I was curious about her, wondering if she would be comfortable enough to confide in me and eventually spill the truth. I had a gut-feeling that her tiredness was not because of the expended miles but from a deeper root that no great sleep can hide. She eases in to her story as she finishes up her first cup. She started talking about her ordeal and was very careful with the details like she was mindful that I don’t misconstrue her and start judging. I gave her a sturdy grin. Judge her? This woman has no clue who I am. So I listen more intently, while eating away into some chips and salsa. She’s been married for the longest time, but unhappy for most of it. Years into the marriage, her husband turned into a drug addict. They were already rocky at this stage and the addiction proved to be the tipping point. Emotionally she was withdrawn. But instead of leaving him, she had him go to rehab because of some moral-calling lurking behind her head that she is still technically the better-half. The husband essentially recovers and kicks out of the habit but not, she believes, voluntarily. He had heart complications that required open surgery which forced him to quit all vices. She waves to the server and signals for a refill, not stopping from talking to not lose her train of thought. Not only is she needed now to take care of her husband, but she is no longer in a position to leave him in that condition. So in true devout wife mode, she stayed. Ignoring the growing sadness inside of her to keep the oath she uttered at the altar divine. There was no more affection but just servitude, with pity as the driving force to nest within the marriage confines. The husband doesn’t really help his case for her to stay as he chews her out for going out too much plus nitpicking on smaller things she doesn’t do, in a series of rants and side remarks. There were times when she lost it and told tell him that she’s done and would leave him, however will continue to support him financially and in occasion check up on him, to make the separation easier. He stays quiet. She walks out. Pretty much the routine. I pour her a glass of water as she continues to air out her grievances. She’s worried about what her adult kids would say, not wanting to be the one who abandons their Dad and becomes the villain in the story. She’s worried about her own father’s reaction too if he finds out what she wants to do, which may aggravate his already fragile state. Generally, she is worried on what others may think if she pushes through with her plan. A plan to be selfishly happy. She sounded defeated at this point and was looking at me for an opinion. And an opinion do I have.

It was a little brisk that night, maybe in the mid 60s. But the outside seating ambiance was too good to pass up. Even from afar you are already gravitated to its setup though the inside wasn’t bad either. It was perfectly lit with the candles on top of each metallic table and lanterns strategically positioned above and across the whole area. There were more couples than groups situated, not surprisingly, what with its romantic setting. There was nothing romantic though on what I asked her, “So are you just waiting on him to eventually die as your gateway to happiness?” She was for a brief second taken aback by my straightforwardness, but said that I was the first one who mentioned it from all the people she talked to. She nodded. It was cold for a wife to think that about her husband but it was, after all, the least path of scrutiny if it does happen. No explanation needed, you kept your vow of ‘til death do us part and you move on essentially worry-free. I get it. I told her that I am not an advocate of married couples giving up and just not trying at all, but like all of us, we should assess our own situation at hand. “You’ve been unhappy for a good amount of time. Stayed through the crappy stages of your marriage. Did your duties wholeheartedly as a mother and unselfishly as a wife. Kids are now all grown up and you’re a Grandma already. You’re in your fifties. I say you’ve done your due diligence!” I can tell she was relieved of what I just said but still trying to process if what she heard is exactly what she heard. I think she earned it. She’s in an ethereal stage in her life where if you cannot be happy now or very soon, you won’t be able to later. Even if you want to go out in pursuit of happiness, your physical self would provide you with so many limitations, you might as well stay married. “I’m not encouraging you but just giving you perspective.” which she obviously appreciated. “And if you do follow your happiness, you need to know it’s not an easy path either. At least not in the beginning. You should be all-in or just don’t do it at all.” She looks at me dead in the eye. “I know!” she says. “Your kids may hate you for bailing out but have faith that they would understand you one day. And your father doesn’t have to know if his condition is at stake. As for your husband, support him like you said you will, if that would ease out the guilt. But make sure you are free from his cudgels and you are truly unfettered to strive for personal bliss. Otherwise, what’s the point?” She nods again in agreement. I even told her that she must’ve not felt like a woman for so long and must be looking forward to being touched erotically, and feel some passion again. She almost shed a tear. “That’s what’s potentially in store for you!”, I shrugged. “If that ever does happen, I promise to let you know!”, she quips with a wink. I sign the check. Gave 20% tip (I know, high roller lol) as I continue to ride the generous feeling on the way to the car. I drop her off, gave ourselves a few tight hugs and I kiss her in the forehead. “You’ll be alright girl!”, as I wave goodbye.

It felt good. Taking weight off someone else’s burden, listening to you speak and concurring on your viewpoints. For a moment it did distract me from all the other things I had in mind. I’m Japan-bound in a few days, my first visit. Yet I’m not as excited as I should be. I’ll be by myself for a day there (family flying in the next day) and I should be anxious. But I’m not. I mean there’s a big chance I’d get lost in translation there yet I’m worrying about consequences that I no longer have control of over here. I just hope Japan would do me good. 

 

I put the windows up as I traverse the 91 on my way home. The crisp breeze was getting too cold for my liking. I was oblivious to the music playing in my stereo— Deja Vu from Olivia Rodrigo [https://youtu.be/cii6ruuycQA?si=v4M8h9sTtnhRU-wj]?? I’m so done listening to that. Gimme Still D.R.E. [https://youtu.be/_CL6n0FJZpk?si=2ib3gSq5eHhxKjYV)] right now, I’m feeling rebellious. My friend texts me that she had a good time and said her thanks. I responded “I’m glad and you’re welcome!” Brought me back to feeling good. The right way to call it a night.

Calamari… love it!!!