“There’s never enough hours in the day
to get everything done!” my wife shouts with dismay.
“Calm down,” I mistakenly dare to engage with
her scowl now a scathing indictment of my parental failings.
“Are you aware we’ve a baby?” she snaps, seething with spite.
“You’re never there!” she exclaims with choked tears in her eyes.
Clearly she’s right. She always is. I look up again
hearing a wry sob punch through recovering breaths.
“I get up and you’ve left for work,” she scoulds me severely
“I put our son into bed and you’re not home of an evening —
“You don’t even see him grow up!” A lone tear travels some distance.
We’ve been over this sequence before, but I’ve never actually listened.
We stand at the kitchen island, with us both at opposite ends,
as the gap in the middle shows how far we’ve lost touch since then.
I wanted to tell her “I’ll fix it,” but she’s had enough with my lies,
so I’m nodding my head in acknowledgement fending “Just give me time,”
She shrugs a resigned sigh.
A greying bra-strap falls from her shoulder.
Rubbing her eyes, she snuffles behind her
“You’re on the sofa,”
*****
I pour a Corona. No lime needed. I’d braved a domestic.
Talking was over, I’d already a bitter aftertaste to contend with.
Raising my beverage I noticed its bubbles racing at speed
as they were ascending effortlessly through the space in between.
I place it immediately down to continue watching them drifting
and see the rate has decreased slightly from this position.
My cognitive thinking has me pondering why its velocity spiked
What if the principle I’d spotted applied to the construct of time?
I opted to find a search engine, and with the webpage’s help
I came across an online dealer that named himself ‘H.G Wells’.
A top rated seller. Five stars. Flashing icon and credits.
His came with 12 month guarantees but were twice as expensive:
Quote:
FleaBay.com > Transport > Time Machines > New & Used
Dear Buyer,
The item I’m selling’s the Stewie Griffin v. 2
If time’s of the essence, then this is for you!
The conditions as new, bar the odd dent or a scratch,
so you'll never look back— unless you're accessing the past!
This items set for dispatch immediately after you winning.
Please send your exact coordinates, as I won’t be travelling with it!
Usual interplanetary limits and age restrictions apply.
For full spec on standard equipment, see holovid that's supplied.
|
I blink at the price, then think of my wife and weigh up the need
before clicking the “Buy Now” option displayed on the screen.
The payment complete verification clears with a zipping
ZOOM!
and this makeshift machine then appears in our living room.
I spill beer on our vivid blue carpet. My wife will be wretched,
but I can clear up the minuscule mess made once I finally test it.
“There’s no time like the present!” my beer-burped pardon agrees
as I pry at the settings, transporting me back to the start of the week.
*
*
*
ZING!
*
*
*
My partners asleep. I start on the cleaning while she’s tucked up warm.
Up at dawn to bust my balls and give her the break she’s been looking for.
I scrubbed the floor, did the dishes, cut the lawn, binned the clippings,
spun the laundry, fixed the kitchen cupboard door with new hinges —
This things terrific! I still can’t really believe that it’s happened.
A single trip and I’ve saved time, money, my sanity and our marriage!
By achieving the balance between work and the love of my life
I’m eager to travel back to the present and make up with my wife!
*
*
*
ZING!
*
*
*
Something’s not right. A curious letter lay strewn on the dresser
that read “I hope you and whoever Ms Wells is have a nice future together!”
The living room was a desolate landscape.
Inside it was empty.
A reminder of everything lost —
Beer stain stubborn as the wife that had left me.
Time was against me all along,
I shouldn’t have wasted a moment willingly.
Now I’ve only misery
and a stupid time machine for company.
Alone with history.