Memories

“Oh please wear them, for me, go on.”

“I don’t want to.” She said, crossing her arms in a gesture she knew would have little or no effect. “They’re hideously uncomfortable and besides they’re so old.”

“But I love seeing you in them darling, you know what I mean.”

Oh here we bloody go she thought, the orders, the controlling, and the bullying, how much more could she take. But instead of standing up to him, she simply shrugged and said.

“But they’re so out of fashion, people will laugh at me.”

Her husband of over forty years shook his head, that smug patronising grin she’d become accustomed to never once leaving his face.

“Nonsense, classics always stay in fashion, I should know.

Naturally, she thought. Bloody typical, all these years there’s been three of them in this marriage, him, her and his ego.

She tried another tack.

“I’ve put on weight over the years darling, I’ve spread, they’re too tight.”

“Nonsense, they fit you like a glove, I can testify to that remember?”

Every one had been so thrilled when they finally wed, a fairy tale union they exclaimed, talk about a happily ever after ending, they’ll last the course, oh if anyone can make it work that pair can.

And look at them now, nudging toward their golden anniversary, never a bad word uttered, never an argument slept on, just a cold creeping resentment steadily growing, seeping through their lives like a dirty great stain.

“Please wear them tonight darling, it takes me back to when we first met, please do that for me, go on, just this once.”

Even though she’d long hardened her heart to him she nodded, giving in finally.

“Allow me,” he said bending down on one leg and gently ever so gently placing the shoes on her feet, squeezing her pitiful bunions hard against the glass then not even noticing when she winced in pain.

“There you go, Cinderella my princess, my, my you make me feel like a young man again.”
Bastard, she thought, smiling sweetly, you bastard.