fiction is cruelpublished: 2013-04-22
I watch a TV series. An actor. He is an acquaintance of mine. His role is to act how he has done wrong to his wife, and he somehow doesn’t see. His wife in the story tries to tell him. He doesn’t listen. He is wrapped up in his own frustrations. He only realizes he must have done something wrong when she gets drunk and leaves the next day to stay with her mother. We also know she wants a child and he doesn’t, not at all.
It takes a while, but eventually he snaps into action. He gains insight and because she doesn’t answer the phone, he goes to her mother’s home. Her mother won’t let him in, but he won’t leave. He sits on the pavement outside, waiting for his wife to show up.
She opens the blinds at one stage, closes them again. He climbs up against the side of the house, and finally reaches that window. Promises things she wants him to promise. These things make her happy. She reaches out to him and they embrace.
This actor is my friend’s husband. He recently left her and their two kids for an affaire. I watch him acting this scene in which they reunite and think of how much my friend would have dreamed to see that moment happen.
Fiction is cruel when offset against real life.