Limits

I hated those fresh flavescent pineapple slices on the dry vanilla base with russet crumbs as the lining of our anniversary cake. She loved it, “It adds so much flavor and color! Isn’t it just wonderful, darling?”. I could just nod and give a meek smile; after all, it was our 11th Anniversary of this marriage. Now that I think about it, I vividly see how she is just like those pineapple slices in my life, so colorful with so many bursts of flavor, but I loathe it. I couldn’t even enjoy my beloved Vanilla cake for the slimy citric remains had made it impure for me.

On the day of our marriage, I was truly a happy man, she was the one after all, or so I had thought. With her invigorating laugh, she used to boast her set of perfect floral white teeth. Her canines were a little sharp, so perfect. I still sometimes get confused as to why she would ever marry a man like myself, who has always been in a perpetuating state of melancholy. I had honestly hoped and thought that this blooming woman would turn me into a sunflower as well only If I could go back in time to the day of our exquisite wedding!

But the most depressing part is, she genuinely felt that I had always been a happy person. She never saw the sadness, which further depressed me, “she isn’t the perfect, intelligent woman I had married.” How could she not see it? I am cryptic, so I suppose I can’t entirely blame her.

The dry, lifeless vanilla cake paired with those fresh pineapple slices, full of life reminded me of my marriage. She, full of life, and myself, sterile. I am sure I would have been a happier person if she wasn’t so fond of having children. “Well, we can always adopt, darling,” she didn’t even get sad after seeing the results, she could always find a way to be happy. I loved her that day. After eight years of that joyous day, we still don’t have a child; she never brought it up again. Maybe she knew all along; I won’t say.

Yesterday, after reading the morning paper in which under the headline ‘DRUNK SPEEDING WOMAN KILLED ON THE HIGHWAY’ I saw our car squished almost to a metallic plate, I knew it was her. I am happy to find a reason for my sadness finally, and now I guess there won’t be any pineapple slices on my vanilla cake.

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