There was nothing
wrong with it, he thought while he was looking out his garden doors into the
garden. Nothing wrong at all, in fact it had become his pride, his life’s work.
The colour palette
of green mixed with purple, violet, red and yellow was shining upon him. The elongated
sunflowers at the end of the garden path, the waving plumes at the waterfront,
the soft purple bellflowers of the Campanula and the brighter purple of the
Lupines, the Spiraea softly swinging in the wind,
the hollyhocks with their different colours, carefully chosen and sown by him,
the honeysuckle which smelled so nice in the evenings. He sighed and turned
away from the window. He knew it would never be the same again.
He once had been a slim, muscular and attractive young man,
when he was in the prime of his life when he met her. He did not like to think
back about it but the reason why she had chosen him had not been his looks. He only
found that out later on. The fortune he would inherit from his father, who had
become a rich man from his textile factory, was the apparent reason for her to
go after him. He stupidly walked into that trap, blinded as he was by her good
looks, slim body and feigned timidity. He was young and madly in love. A year
later they were married. They moved into this house where, as it turned out, she
never liked being in. He thought it was delicious. A cosy house, a lovely
garden and his job at his father's office was sufficient for him. But not for
her. Unfortunately they remained childless and although he could not prove it, until
this day he guessed that there was no medical cause that supported that.
His wife had become over the course of the years, how unpleasant he even found to say, a cold woman. No longer the warm, shy girl he had met. He remained more and more often in his garden then he had planned. His wife amused himself sometimes without him. She went to her friends, to play tennis and attended parties. She was a guest at many a party. The few times that he couldn't avoid coming along, he noticed that she had many males casting an eye on her. Many necks were strained on an evening when his wife made her entrance not only men but also women although their glances were not always that friendly behind her back, as he saw it.
His wife had become over the course of the years, how unpleasant he even found to say, a cold woman. No longer the warm, shy girl he had met. He remained more and more often in his garden then he had planned. His wife amused himself sometimes without him. She went to her friends, to play tennis and attended parties. She was a guest at many a party. The few times that he couldn't avoid coming along, he noticed that she had many males casting an eye on her. Many necks were strained on an evening when his wife made her entrance not only men but also women although their glances were not always that friendly behind her back, as he saw it.
As the years of their marriage progressed, he had also
increasingly reluctantly accompanied his wife on such outings. The people were,
he felt, emptier and pompous, meaningless. They only did it, he said to his
wife, for one thing: Money and ostentation. His wife thought that he was dramatizing
and then left again with the most expensive creations next event.
Meanwhile, his father was old and weak. His wife, he perceived,
made allusions to the death of his father and the resulting fortune what that
would entail. Because his marriage got worse and worse and his wife completely
went her own way, he decided to consult a solicitor, though without telling his
wife about it. He spoke a long time with him and came back with a big smile on
his lips. He had made his decision.
He visited his father more and more often now his health
declined. His mother was deceased when he was a little boy. He had no siblings,
so he was the only heir. How sick his father was, even he was enormously
concerned about his daughter in law's sudden visits with some regularity. He
managed to make his father comfortable and after a few weeks, his father died
in his sleep at the age of 85. A huge burden pressed on his shoulders and suddenly
he knew.
A few weeks after the funeral of his father, his wife came
into the living room with two cups of coffee and sat down next to her husband.
He looked up from his newspaper and looked at her puzzled. She went away every
night and now she sat beside him with coffee? He folded his newspaper and
looked at her. This would be the moment he had been waiting for. She did not
hesitate. She began to talk about wanting to live bigger, his father's money, and
factory sales, sell this, and buy that. About that she wanted to leave him,
that she was entitled to half the money. She had already packed her bags and
would leave him. Her friends knew about it, she was going to live abroad and
demanded his money.
He saw it in her eyes. The greed, the desire of ostentation
what he had seen all those awful parties. His wife, the girl he had married,
that woman didn't exist anymore, but this was the last straw. He stood up and
walked calmly upstairs. His wife followed him, screaming almost. She pulled on
his jacket, forced him to listen. All that she accompliced was that he tripped
and fell. She backed away to avoid him falling against her and he rumbled down
the stairs on his back. As he fell he heard it. Crack, said his back. And while
he was lying with his back on the cold tile floor in the hall, the cold he did
not even feel, he heard his wife walking alongside him, looking him right in
the face with a triumphant look before she picked up the phone to call the doctor.
Months later, he was sitting there, in front of the garden
doors looking at the flowers in his garden. He himself had not had the courage
to do something in the yard, let alone driving through it. The gardener he had hired
had paved the way so that he could drive through more easily with the
wheelchair. But as of yet he had not used it. He had reversed his chair from
the window but stopped and turned back. He looked at the big hydrangea that needed
to be pruned actually. He wanted to do that last year but hadn’t come to and
now it was still too early to prune. Suddenly a smile came to his lips. With a tug
he turned his chair and went to the phone. He called the gardener and after a
brief conversation he hung up again.
After the gardener had dug a large hole for a beautiful
apple tree beside the hydrangea that afternoon and he had assured the gardener
that he could and would do the rest really himself, he sat there for a long
time in the garden. Until he heard the front door slam and heard tapping heels
in the hallway. Moments later she was standing next to him. The sun disappeared
behind a cloud and it was chilly all of a sudden. He shivered. She looked at
him with contempt in her eyes he saw. Not for long. He whispered something and
she bowed her head to hear him. Then he raised his arm with the garden shovel
still in there and let it come down hard on her head. With a sigh, she fell
down beside him. He looked at her cold, beautiful face while a thin trickle of
blood from under her hair seeped on the sidewalk. The red mingled with the
purple flowers in the border. It would be quite a job but she would get a nice
spot under the hydrangea next to the apple tree and as he rolled up his
sleeves, he had a smile on his lips.
Finally his life got significance and purpose again.
Finally his life got significance and purpose again.
© KH
