The end of our marriage was approaching. We hadn’t discussed divorce yet, but it was coming. In my hubris, I was positive I could repair our broken marriage. It’s hard to believe I was ever that naïve.
We were driving around town, and I wanted something to eat. I asked my wife what she wanted. She wasn’t hungry. I asked more than once, she wanted nothing. There may have been symbolism I was missing.
I drove to the local Dairy Queen, entered the drive-through lane, and ordered chicken fingers. I looked at her, she said no, she wanted nothing. I drove around and paid for the food and was handed a large box of fried chicken fingers and fries. It really smelled good. I drove toward home.
About a block from the Dairy Queen, she said, “Can I have one of those chicken fingers?”
I waited just a little too long before I said yes.
Then she turned away and said forget it. I was frustrated and tried to get her to eat something, to no avail. There was a lot of tension.
At home, I started eating but couldn’t eat it all, there was too much. I told her there was a spare chicken finger, that I really couldn’t eat it. She wouldn’t have eaten that chicken finger if I’d put a gun to her head (which I’d like to point out, I never did). Maybe she thought I was mocking her. Or perhaps she just wanted to get the hell out of there.
The little things can make a marriage, and they can destroy one too.