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Dave is waiting outside the hairdressers for his wife of 4 years, Mary-Belle. She told him not to be late, but he was five minutes late. Despite this, she is not ready, as her hair is still drying in the curlers. To step out in curlers would be an offense to style and grace that Mary-Belle would never allow. Dave loves this about her, and understanding that she needs her time with the girls in the salon, he elects to wait in the cold street. Mary-Belle can be quite harsh when her happiness is impugned upon. Before they where wed, she had scarcely had a harsh word to say to him, but as the months of wedded bliss turned to years, she had relaxed alongside him. It would be fair to say that she is not the same woman he had married. She is harder around the mouth and values her alone time more than before.
To be fair, he isn’t quite the same either. He can no longer fit into his old pants, and he has a few more grey hairs than at the start of the engagement. Although other men might feel hard done by, he is still a happy man. They had agreed that they would have five years of marriage and would then begin to try and make a family together. More than anything Dave wishes for children in his life. His sisters all have children, whom he loves dearly, but to have a child, a boy or a girl, he didn’t care which, of his own, with his features spiced with some of Mary-Belle’s, that was his dream. Aside from the having of the child, he is also looking forward to the making of the child. Mary-Belle has been afflicted by terrible headaches of late as was scarcely able to make the dinner of an evening, so love making is now a fond memory.
There is a sharp rap on the window of the dressers, and turning Dave sees his wife glaring out, pushing him away with her harsh eyes, but beckoning him in with a flick of her wrist.
“What is it, my dear?” he says, closing the door behind him.
“I have forgotten my purse, David, do you have your card on you?” The forgetting of her purse has also become a regular occurrence.
Dave smiles, produces his card from his wallet and hands it to the stony faced girl behind the till. The girl reminds him of his niece. Although much older she has the same spray of freckles across her nose and her hair is the same bright orange.
On the way back to the car Dave hardly says a word.
“Are you alright?” Mary-Belle says.
“Hmm?” says Dave.
“Really, Dave, you must live in a completely different world than the rest of us.”
For a second Dave feels like asking her to come to his world, to leave this one, to really be wed together, not just through paper, or promises, but through a true bond of body and mind. To turn her hair out of those curlers, to wipe that whores paint off her face, because he would love her anyway.
The arrive at the car with no more words shared between them.
“Will you drive, Dave, my head is starting to hurt.”
“Of course, my dear”
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