My Wife
Hello, my name is Simon. I am a genius.
That is a point of information more than anything else, perspective.
For my part, I do my best to be invisible or at least hardly noticeable. And I think I am fairly successful on most days, most of the time.
When I was a baby, people thought the fact that I spoke at all was so cute and remarkable. When I was a sub-teen, they laughed at what I said, ruffling my brown hair and repeating it to one another as a sort of joke or under their breath on their way to get another wine.
But when I approached that terrible switch track of adolescence, it all changed. I noticed people becoming irritable with me. They began to make fun of me for the words I used and the things I did and for what I said. Or they would just suddenly shut up and never talk to me again.
Finally one day, I realized that everything would be so much better if I just didn’t say anything at all.
So it is. It is a burden to have to keep your mouth shut about what you see and know; still there really isn’t any choice. Once people become aware of what you see and know, they become afraid of what you might see and know about them. They guard their tongues, they watch you and watch what they say.
People don’t like geniuses. Fortunately, for those of us who are geniuses, there is no physical manifestation like color, height, length of hair or number of toes. We can stay relatively invisible if we choose and most of us do.
Until I got married, the only real friends I could find were those that didn’t really know me or just didn’t care. I spent my time with those guys loading trucks and packing grocery carts, as they were much less concerned about who I was than finding their next fuck which suited me just fine, because so much of the time I just wanted to exchange a few words or share a friendly joke. They would do this where others would not.
So my friends are not those you might expect.
Nor are my enemies. And these are the people with whom I must spend most of my time. To be clear, they are not my enemies but it seems that I am theirs.
Somehow, people are suspicious of me, probably because of something I say or do without thinking. I will come in to find the chair where I work cut to ribbons and the cushions soaked in water or the sleeves of my lab coat stapled shut.
And that is just the beginning.
There is really nothing I can do. No words I can say or deeds I can perform can change it in any way.
So, in general, I speak little.
And I am sure you would not be surprised to know, it took me forty years to find a wife.
But it was well worth the wait. I am fortunate to be married to a uncomplicated woman who has no idea or care about what I do during the day. She is happy to have me home for lunch and dinner. We talk about what she is doing with her friends and, occasionally, I accompany her to a dinner with her friends or we go to a function where no one else knows me or what I do, and we have a good time.
My wife is earnest and shrewd. Occasionally slightly dishonest in the pursuit of her dreams, which I am willing to accept. Indeed, it seems to me to be indicative of a deeper, more genuine honesty.
She does strive not to hurt anyone. And she is sincere, even if she must lie to be so. I admire that in her. I prefer, as you know, to remain silent.
My wife also has a natural affection for and ease with people. She can sit down with people she does not know, talk and laugh and genuinely enjoy herself from the first moment. I admire that too.
She can also be alone. Alone quite happily, entertaining herself with her games or music, stories or the television which works very well for us since I am often working on one thing or another.
And when I come home or stop working, she welcomes me to join her without asking what I have been doing or how it went. I don’t like talking about these things, especially since no one understands when if I do.
I also enjoy sitting with her on the couch watching television. We sit tangled in each others arms and legs quite happily watching something neither of us is actually paying much attention to. I generally think about something I am working on and she likes to play games on her computer.
I married a woman who will tremble with lust in front of a jewelry counter, want every pot and utensil ever made for the kitchen and who may simply not be able to leave a clothing store.
But most importantly, she accepts me for exactly who and what I am, without question, though not without an occasional reprimand.
At night I sleep close to her and she to me, and I don’t think about tomorrow.
We are just children.
I remember meeting my wife in Ecuador while I was traveling for the university.
I had been invited to dinner at my new patron’s home.
There were a lot of people, diamonds, wine, and fine silk draperies. I was sitting on a long leather couch with a small glass of rather dense liqueur beside me when my host came up to introduce his sister, a plump woman in a peach colored sheath skirt.
She stood before me smiling a wonderfully knowing smile, holding the fingers of her right hand in her left.
And I sighed and sat back into the couch feeling relieved, thinking, “So, this is what she looks like.”