That story to @owasco's short story contest.
The prompt
"Ugh! The bread is soaking wet! Bread is not supposed to be soaking wet!" he snarled at me as he spit a soggy mouthful of half-chewed peanut butter sandwich into a tissue. I stood at attention next to his bed. He handed the sodden and heavy tissue to me.
He was now vegan, grain free, nightshade free, lectin free, phytic acid free, and deaf to my feeble protestations. He was not free, however, from his acutely tuned palate, which was maddeningly different from mine.
He had requested a peanut butter sandwich. I knew meeting all his new diet criteria would be a bitch, but I rose to the challenge. I had to.
I chose a very small ten-dollar loaf of 'bread' and bought it. I bought some raw peanuts. I shelled the peanuts. I soaked, sprouted, and dehydrated the peanuts. After very lightly roasting them, I ground those peanuts into peanut butter. I then very carefully smeared the freshly ground peanut butter onto the somewhat normal looking bread. I made sure to get the peanut butter to the edges just like I had learned in home economics class long, long ago.
I knew how to make a proper tea sandwich.
I now spent my life trying to make this man happy. I signed up for that didn't I? Wasn’t that my reason for being? To make this man happy?
Well, he was not happy with that sandwich.
My continuation
Why have I cared so much for him all these years? When I was only ten, my parents died in the car accident and Uncle Phil remained my only relative. In fact, we weren't even blood related. He was the husband of my mother's second cousin. Thus our relation was no more than a technicality. Shortly before I became an orphaned, Uncle Phil became a widower. He lived in a spacious house in Seattle’s suburb and as he put it, before I appeared every night hauled at the Moon from grief and loneliness.
That’s how I ended up living with Uncle Phil. At first, he was not very talkative and rarely smiled. I spent much time in school, helping him to run the house as I could. Gradually we both began to melt after our losses. The uncle started writing magazine articles again, and I... began to believe that my life is not over.
At first, he seemed a sad and gloomy old man. Yet, when I became a teenager, it turned out that my 50-year-old uncle – is a very sensitive and understanding friend. "Friend"... How strange it is now to call ours relations "friendship." He became my father, my mother and my best friend. I could talk to him about everything... It was he, who gave me an advice on how to communicate with boys and what mistakes not to make.
Time took its tall though and Uncle Phil grew old and bedridden. His consciousness faded, his character became almost unbearable. Now he was only a ghost of my beloved uncle. Still, I kept making sandwiches for him. Because once upon a time he saved me. I have no idea how my life would have turn out without Uncle Phil. Orphanage... At best, the foster family.
Whom would I have grown up into had he not protected me from the brutal world beyond our cozy home?
Next day after the sandwich incident, Uncle Phil's heart stopped. I cried a lot at the funerals. It was damn frustrating that the last day we spent together, went like this, in a fight over a sandwich.
I knew it wasn't my fault. He suffered very much from the illness, and wasn’t able to control himself. Deep down inside, he certainly loved me... just as much as I loved him and love him still. But how sad it is that we didn't even said goodbye!
According to Uncle Phil's will, I dispelled his ashes at the mountains. He often said that we live thousands lives, and disease and even death have no power over our souls. "Death is just a change of gloves." I don't know if he indeed believed this. Still this view consoled him and me. Besides... if I wouldn’t believe that I'll never meet my parents and my beloved uncle again - does it make any sense to live on? Why wake up in the morning, go to the office, fill out the documents... if we seriously believe that in a few decades this body will wear out, and come to such an empty and stupid end?
I believe Uncle Phil is out there in a different world right now. Perhaps he will be reborn - and become my son... and I can repay him for all the good he did for me. Perhaps...
Taking a mirror out of my bag, I looked at myself... I need to change my hair due. And, in general, to dress up. After all, life doesn't end. There is no death, there is only a change of dresses.
Ah the backstory. I think you might be the only entrant so far to discuss how this situation arose. I love that you've brought in compassion and the lengths most of us will go to in order to give relief to someone we love who is dying. I find this story very beautiful.
Thank you for entering my little contest!
A compassionate, thoughtful, responsible look at the person who seem like such a tyrant - and an interesting perspective: instead of spouse, the patient is an uncle. And instead of being a mean SOB all his life, he was a good, kind person before the illness took over his personality. This is haunting: he grew old and bedridden. His consciousness faded, his character became almost unbearable. Now he was only a ghost of my beloved uncle. Still, I kept making sandwiches for him. Because once upon a time he saved me. Powerful words!
@carolkean thanks for your comment!
I will try to express my thoughts now with the help of Google translator...
I don’t really like the rhetoric popular in recent years, when the main goal of reasoning is to blame the oppressor tyrant. And almost always such a "tyrant" is necessarily a man. I have nothing against feminism, but such discussions, in my opinion, have gone completely the wrong way - both in the English-speaking space and in the Russian-speaking one.
I’m interested in this. If we have a "tyrant" - let's take a close look, "why is he a tyrant?" instead of simply blaming and glorifying "victory over oppression."
So we have a "tyrant man." Was he always like that? Why did he become so? Maybe his loved ones pushed him to this? Perhaps his masochistic wife herself provoked him to such behavior, and after that she accused her husband of tyranny and aggression?
Well, or as in this story - the cause was the disease.
@mgaft1 - what do you think?)
You make a compelling point, @phil-glaz, and show us an alternative view to the popular "overthrow the tyrant" view. On the other hand...the history of women being oppressed, held back, not allowed to vote in the U.S. until one hundred years ago (and great effort made by women who were imprisoned for peacably holding signs petitioning for suffrage) - I coud go on - but in real life, I know too many women who are bound by guilt, manipulation, and indoctrination to honor marriage vows when the husband is a dishonor to men everywhere and a vermin to his wife. First-hand, face to face, I have seen it, and only a few of these women broke free. I've read book after book and there is so little we can do to persuade these captive women to get out. It's a complex topic. Maddening. Frustrating.
Thank you for reminding us that there's another side - though I believe it's seldom the case that the woman herself "provoked him to such behavior" -
Hi @phil-glaz, @carolkean,
The question about woman's rights and feminism is convoluted and has to be dealt with by having appropriate statistics rather than anecdotes and personal opinions and, honestly, for me the topic is beyond the scope of this discussion.
For me, the important part of this exercise was to understand the author of the prompt in what she "wanted to convey" and understanding of the resulting character.
A woman being a tyrant is possible. @phil-glaz and I remember the Countess Morozova, who killed her countless serfs with unprecedented cruelty on her whim. However, when we are talking about caring for a bedridden person more often than not it would be a woman. Again, it's not that there are no compassionate and patient men, but caring is more in woman's character, and historically it was more often a woman's duty and consequently, she got the lion share of caprices and psychological abuse.
@phil-glaz if you remember the place in "War and Peace" when Marie Bolkonsky was psychologically abused by her father when he read all her letters, limited her communication with her friends, and insisted on her studying math. That in no way excluded his love for her as he was a very loving father, but a tyrant nonetheless. To finish this example, you might remember how Marie was ashamed in her own thoughts because she dreamed of the time when her father will die. Again, not because she didn't love him, but because she wanted to free herself from tyranny.
I tell you to want... In 2002 I went to see my mother in San Diego and found her in such a condition that decided to take her with me to Los Angeles immediately. She lived with us for two more years and, at a certain time, I had to drive from work during lunchtime and change her diaper. Also at night, she rang the bell, woke me up and wanted me to sit next to her and just talk. In some sense that was a tyranny, a tyranny of a situation rather than a tyranny by a person. Thus, at a certain time, I thought I won't be able to take this "abuse." It was just physically very demanding. In my mind I was saying "God, when will this finally end!"
Coming back to the story, the most important moment for me was whether a protagonist indeed felt psychologically abused, which I felt she was - partially due to the situation and partially from the man's mistreatment.
Secondly, whether her character had a strong enough core to come through with the "ultimate measures", which I gaged as no. I felt she could contemplate and hope on being free from the situation, could think of murder as a theoretical possibility, but not to the point of actually premeditating and committing the murder.
What you've done is also legitimate - switching the emphasis to the possible prehistory. But hey this isn't the novel, and you have just so much space to describe what happened. )
You took care of your mother (for two years--diaper changes included!) instead of putting her away in a care facility, as Americans tend to do--you have my admiration, sympathy, and applause, @magaft1!
Phil had brought up feminism - and the 100-yr-anniversary here in the U.S. is fresh in my mind, so I brought up how much effort and personal sacrifice it took for women just to be allowed to vote. To vote! Women as property, marriage as an economic and social arrangement, is a fairly recent page in history. There are statistics. There are personal anecdotes. My point is that I know, and know of, far too many women who are trapped in miserable marriages and see no way out. I agree, murder is not the way out. It's the quickest and most final solution, maybe, but not the best one.
Love your thoughts on "War and Peace" - and wonder if you've read all of Brothers Karamazov. Americans today have little patience or time for long novels like these, but they're so rich, with so many insights into family dynamics and social issues.
Americans tend to cherish liberty and personal freedom over what's best for society as a whole. Servitude, obedience to authority, accepting our "lot" in life - not what USA is best known for!
But I'll stop now. I could go on about this stuff all day. :)
Of course, I read "Brothers Karamazov. " )))
Feminism is a complex issue. I don't think anybody nowadays is against equality in voting, quality in the job market, quality of pay, or equality in any other avenues of life. I am all for it, but I am by no means is a feminist.
I hear many feminists of the third wave talking about pay still being unequal, despite this being unlawful. I think this is a silly argument for if women would be paid less for the same work no business would ever hire a man. )))
So, I am not a proponent of "equity" measures like what Canadian prime minister Trudo did, putting 50% women in his cabinet.
For all I care, it could be 100% women, as long as they are put there by merit.
Thus, I don't support equity measures, that intend to somehow give back modern women for the historical injustice dealt with their grandmothers. This is a silly measure and, most importantly, the one that won't make women happier.
As for women trapped in bad marriages, I'd rather speak about people trapped in bad marriages, because a poor marriage is a two-way streak. If something could be done about it, it certainly would not be done by measures of government intervention. )))
Similarly, I think the step by step permission asking during the sexual engagement (can I touch your hair? can I kiss your hand? and so on) is better suited for SNL than for real life and is damaging for relationship.
I think feminism, in its current incarnation, will eventually lead to a complete disengagement between men and women, to artificial insemination, sex dolls, and psychologically damaged children.
I agree. This was an unusual twist for me as I was trying to read into the original character and construct the subsequent situation around the most typical possible outcome.
@phil-glaz however, approached the situation from a completely different end. It wasn't a situation of perpetual systematic abuse, but an unpleasant incident that happens in a life of even people who can genuine affection for each other.
Good thinking!
I tried to write that female character so that she could go either way. I was surprised at how many assumed she felt tyrannized. She was in a difficult situation that sometimes presented terrible moments, but nothing suggested that she hated what she was doing to the point of wanting to do him harm. So she could go many emotional or psychological ways.
I guess we are dealing here with authors who have the urge to dramatize the situation. I remember back in university talking with the professor about the first inhabitants of the American continent and expressing a surprise that they didn't kill each other. I was referring to the book "Quest for Fire", where prehistoric people weren't so tolerant toward each other. To what she responded, "Who would be interested in people who just get along?" :)
You sure can see that in politics and the media today.
Thank you so much)
I just learned that we get a tiny bit of steem from upvotes on comments when this comment paid out.
Thanks to @mgaft1 for the translate from Russian to English and for the illustration)