telling his mother that he has to wear red clothes tomorrow at school. “You’re telling me this now?” the tired mother
says through clenched teeth.
“I told you about the red clothes on Sunday, but you were on the telephone with your boyfriend!” The kid doesn’t care there
are people listening.
When Pito hops off the truck, his mind is made up. Yes, he will spend his next holiday, which is in a few months, with his
wife. They will go to the cinema and watch a kung fu movie; they will go fishing, share a few drinks at the bar, read Akim
comic books in bed, and have sex. Whatever they do, they will have a lot of fun.
There, it’s decided, and since Pito is very serious about this, he will reveal his wonderful plans to Materena as soon as
he gets home. He will commit himself. True commitment — in Pito’s opinion — is not given for peace and quiet and it’s definitely
not because there’s something to gain at the end. When commitment is given, words become sacred, they’re not just words.
For example, when Pito tells Materena he’ll take the garbage out, he isn’t really committing himself, it’s just words so that
she’ll get off his back or so he can get into her pants. When he tells Materena he’ll climb up the breadfruit tree to get
her a breadfruit, it isn’t commitment either, it’s just words so she’ll get off his back or so he can get into her pants.
Pito would be the first to admit he’s told Materena, “
Oui,
I’m going to do it,” many times but didn’t get around to living up to his promise because, well, because he got satisfied,
or he forgot.
But when Pito says something he really means, you can rely on him one hundred percent. When Pito says he’ll put food on the
table, he will. When Pito says he’ll keep his job until retirement in loving memory of his uncle who got him that job, he
will. When Pito says he’ll mow his mother’s garden until the day she dies, he will. And when Pito says that he’ll spend his
next holiday with his wife, that’s what will happen.
Pito finds Materena in their daughter’s bedroom staring at the world map taped to the wall. “Ah, you’re feeling better.” Pito’s
voice is full of honey, and he’s smiling a big loving smile. “And what country are you looking at, Madame?”
Materena, with pursed lips and dangerous cranky eyes, shrugs her shoulders and leaves the room, flicking her hair in her husband’s
face on her way.
“I was thinking of spending my next holiday with you,
chérie!
” Pito calls out, following his wife out of the room.
“
Non merci!
” And the door slams shut.
Pito stands by the door, stunned. Bloody women! It doesn’t matter what we do, it’s always the wrong thing. Angry now, Pito
opens the door and heads to the kitchen. Materena is at the kitchen table, munching on a piece of bread.
“If I understand,” Pito says with a cold voice, “you don’t want me to spend my next holidays with you.”
Materena swallows her piece of bread and shrugs. “You know, Pito, I used to wish that you spent your holidays with us, with
the kids and me . . . Actually, I used to wish for a lot of things.” She brushes the bread crumbs into her hand. “Now, I wish
for nothing.”
Silent Treatment
T his has never happened before in their life as a couple — a five-day silent treatment. Three days is the furthest Materena
has ever gone before she cracked and made some remark about the weather, giving Pito the chance to redeem himself for whatever
he did or didn’t do.
Those other times, Pito never got sad when his wife gave him the silent treatment, because he could do whatever he wanted
and she wouldn’t say a word about it. He could lie on the sofa like a statue for hours and Materena would act like he didn’t
exist. Still, by the third day Pito was always glad when it was over. It’s not much fun when your wife doesn’t speak to you.
But five days! Five days — and for
says through clenched teeth.
“I told you about the red clothes on Sunday, but you were on the telephone with your boyfriend!” The kid doesn’t care there
are people listening.
When Pito hops off the truck, his mind is made up. Yes, he will spend his next holiday, which is in a few months, with his
wife. They will go to the cinema and watch a kung fu movie; they will go fishing, share a few drinks at the bar, read Akim
comic books in bed, and have sex. Whatever they do, they will have a lot of fun.
There, it’s decided, and since Pito is very serious about this, he will reveal his wonderful plans to Materena as soon as
he gets home. He will commit himself. True commitment — in Pito’s opinion — is not given for peace and quiet and it’s definitely
not because there’s something to gain at the end. When commitment is given, words become sacred, they’re not just words.
For example, when Pito tells Materena he’ll take the garbage out, he isn’t really committing himself, it’s just words so that
she’ll get off his back or so he can get into her pants. When he tells Materena he’ll climb up the breadfruit tree to get
her a breadfruit, it isn’t commitment either, it’s just words so she’ll get off his back or so he can get into her pants.
Pito would be the first to admit he’s told Materena, “
Oui,
I’m going to do it,” many times but didn’t get around to living up to his promise because, well, because he got satisfied,
or he forgot.
But when Pito says something he really means, you can rely on him one hundred percent. When Pito says he’ll put food on the
table, he will. When Pito says he’ll keep his job until retirement in loving memory of his uncle who got him that job, he
will. When Pito says he’ll mow his mother’s garden until the day she dies, he will. And when Pito says that he’ll spend his
next holiday with his wife, that’s what will happen.
Pito finds Materena in their daughter’s bedroom staring at the world map taped to the wall. “Ah, you’re feeling better.” Pito’s
voice is full of honey, and he’s smiling a big loving smile. “And what country are you looking at, Madame?”
Materena, with pursed lips and dangerous cranky eyes, shrugs her shoulders and leaves the room, flicking her hair in her husband’s
face on her way.
“I was thinking of spending my next holiday with you,
chérie!
” Pito calls out, following his wife out of the room.
“
Non merci!
” And the door slams shut.
Pito stands by the door, stunned. Bloody women! It doesn’t matter what we do, it’s always the wrong thing. Angry now, Pito
opens the door and heads to the kitchen. Materena is at the kitchen table, munching on a piece of bread.
“If I understand,” Pito says with a cold voice, “you don’t want me to spend my next holidays with you.”
Materena swallows her piece of bread and shrugs. “You know, Pito, I used to wish that you spent your holidays with us, with
the kids and me . . . Actually, I used to wish for a lot of things.” She brushes the bread crumbs into her hand. “Now, I wish
for nothing.”
Silent Treatment
T his has never happened before in their life as a couple — a five-day silent treatment. Three days is the furthest Materena
has ever gone before she cracked and made some remark about the weather, giving Pito the chance to redeem himself for whatever
he did or didn’t do.
Those other times, Pito never got sad when his wife gave him the silent treatment, because he could do whatever he wanted
and she wouldn’t say a word about it. He could lie on the sofa like a statue for hours and Materena would act like he didn’t
exist. Still, by the third day Pito was always glad when it was over. It’s not much fun when your wife doesn’t speak to you.
But five days! Five days — and for
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