Mark & Jane (Work In Progress…)

She was having some sort of existential experience walking alone in the rain along the street that led to the house she has shared with him for three years. “There is no time,” she told herself, over and over again, but time for what she did not know. She was so used to him painting his mouth with pejoratives aimed at her and in the process, coloring her tongue with salt from tears. Everything was wrong with her according to him: her eyes and lips were never quite “right” for him when they were in the bedroom, alone, and her posture and elocution were never quite “right” for him when they were out to dinner with friends. Plus, she held her fork wrong when she ate asparagus he once told her. These small jabs eventually wore her down so much that soon he developed the agency to control her existence. The existential experience is not something new to experience but rather something she goes through at least once a month; walking alone from a place where he isn’t to the place where they live, all the while thinking about how much she hates him, how much he hates her and how much they need each other to validate each other.

 

Her tears usually dried by the time she got to their front door, and it was always the same every time she arrived. “Where the hell have you been?” he always asked, but he knew the answer. “I was just wandering,” but “wandering” was a harsh understatement at this point and both of them could see through the flimsy lies she spat after each one of her walks. To the outside, they were the perfect couple; they were Mark and Jane, the two to envy, the two to beat, but in reality, it was all an illusion that they tried all to well to keep up, a lie that drained them but was necessary to keep them afloat

 

Their relationship needed deep restructuring, the type that can only happen when each party really thinks about what’s going on; they both needed perestroika.

 

Perhaps their relationship was doomed from the start. Their childhoods’ were vastly different, and in fact, they couldn’t have been far from each other in that regard. From lullabies, Jane was sheltered, loved and perhaps most important, cocooned in affluence and wealth. She was a silver-spoon baby. For Mark on the other hand, being a kid was tumultuous making him a tumescent person until adulthood (although arguably even through adulthood). His sorrow was constant and in a true ironic fashion, it was also the only consistent thing in his life as fathers went as soon as they came leaving an unstable mother. It would be cruel to say that he had parents at all; cruel to Mark because it would undermind his true independent nature, it would make him less of an underdog but that characteristic, the penchant for making it through struggles and fighting made him Mark. Even through the sadness, he only knew victory marches.


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