The Domestic Equality War Pt. 01

'Listen, you and I have an equality agreement,' said Bryan and he pointed aggressively at the screen. 'And that's just to make sure that when you accuse me of not doing my "equal share" -- which I know you're going to do, sooner or later -- that we are talking about facts!'

'Bryan, equality is not just about you and me doing the exact same housework!'

'What are you talking about? That's what the word means!'

'To a man, perhaps.'

'Oh, so there's a woman's definition of the word? Well, please enlighten me!'

'You know damn well that when I say "equality", I'm talking about fairness and justice! I'm talking about a feeling of equality!'

'Whose feeling? Yours or mine?'

Becky glared at Bryan. He'd done it again, the fucker! If she said, 'Well, my feeling, of course!' he would go back to her being a dictator and giving him orders. But if she said, 'Both our feelings', then she would have to take seriously ideas like 'Hoovering once every two weeks' and that's just not how you make a proper family home! Why couldn't Bryan see that? Why couldn't he just trust her? Actually, that was a good question. Becky looked up.

'Why don't you trust me?' she said.

'Trust is based on a person's ability to keep their word,' said Bryan. 'And I don't see that right now.'

'God, you are so black-and-white.'

'Principles are black-and-white. You either keep them or you break them. There is no middle ground.'

Husband and wife looked at each other across the rectangle of dark grey marble. Becky shook her head.

'You really don't get it, do you?' she said.

'Oh, I think I do,' said Bryan. 'Because you had a bad day, you want me to make an exception to the rule. You want me to go all gooey-eyed and say: "Oh darling, don't worry about our agreement! Let me pamper and take care of you! You deserve it!" '

Bryan leaned on the counter and raised an eyebrow.

'Something like that?' he said.

Behind him on the cooker, water in the stainless-steel pot was popping and bubbling. Bryan turned his back to attend to it. He lowered the heat and tore open the package of spaghetti, sliding it all into the pot and pressing it slowly into the boiling water. When he finished and turned back around, the woman was gone.

***************************

There was no sex in the Sandford household that night. The next day, both parties had breakfast on automatic pilot, with Becky taking Tara to nursery school before going to work. Her day went as normal and, in the late afternoon, she left work and popped into the supermarket to buy some food for that evening. If Bryan insisted on sticking to the fucking agreement, then so be it. She didn't need any favours from him! But when she got home, she found Tara playing in her corner and Bryan busy making dinner at the cooker, way earlier than usual. He glanced at the plastic bag of groceries in her hand and smiled, the way chess players smile when they correctly anticipate their opponent's move. He said across the room:

'Hey, one of us has to keep their word.'

Becky ducked out through the door, ran upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. She sat on the toilet with the lid closed and burst into tears. This was so upsetting! All she wanted was a nice clean home and a nice family life! Was that so much to ask? And if Bryan hated it so much, why the fuck did he get married in the first place? He knew the deal! He knew damn well that when a woman says she wants equality, she doesn't mean it to the exclusion of everything else! Yet Becky also knew, with unflinching certainty, that if she voiced such a thought, he would say: 'Oh, so you don't really want equality, do you? You just don't want to be a victim of inequality.' It was his favourite counter argument and she hated it!

Becky wiped her face and looked around the bathroom. The chrome taps were sparkling, the floor was spotless, and the sink and shower unit looked like they were out of a brochure. It had been Bryan's turn to do the monthly bathroom clean and he had done an amazing job. In fact, a way better job than Becky had ever done. But as she looked at the shiny surfaces, she realised that he didn't do it to please her or even out of a sense of pride. He was doing it to shut her up; to put himself beyond her criticism.

Becky took her time changing out of her work clothes, staying upstairs until dinner was ready. Her daughter came to fetch her and Becky escaped into the role of 'Mummy', making the girl laugh and being theatrically pleasant to 'Daddy'. Somehow, she got through the evening okay, but after she put Tara to bed, Becky came downstairs determined to have it out with her husband. She went back to the kitchen-dining room, expecting him to be still cleaning up after dinner, but the lights were off and the dishwasher was humming away in its corner. Becky switched on the light anyway, not quite believing he could have done the job properly in the time she was upstairs. But no, the room was immaculate, with all surfaces clean, everything put away, and chairs neatly pushed under the table the way Becky liked it. It made Becky so angry that it took her three attempts to switch off the light, her first two slaps switching the light off and on again. She slammed the door and went to hunt for her husband.

Bryan was in the living room, his feet up on the couch, a paperback novel of almost offensive thickness open on his lap. He was halfway through it too. As Becky marched up to the couch and stood over him, she wondered where he could have found the time. Bryan kept his eyes on the book, but his mouth wore an infuriating smile.

'Let me guess,' he said. ' "We need to talk"?'

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?'

'Not the word I would use. But I'm not averse to it either.'

'Oh, and I am, I suppose?'

'I honestly don't know.'

Bryan lowered his book and looked up. But instead of the condescension Becky expected, his eyes were full of sadness. It shocked her. Becky found herself sitting on the edge of the couch and putting her hand on his knee.

'Bryan, what is your problem with me?'

'You're acting like a hypocrite.'

'Me?! What the hell are you talking about?'

'You insisted on equality as a condition of the marriage,' said Bryan. 'And yet you're the one who keeps wanting to make exceptions!'

'Bryan, wanting an equal partnership doesn't mean I don't want to be treated with a bit of kindness every now and then!'

'Well, the way I see it, I'm treating you with equal kindness.'

'What do you--'

The penny dropped. Becky snatched her hand from his knee.

'Are you saying I don't treat you with kindness?' she cried.

'Listen, I'm not complaining. Nothing and nothing is still equality.'

'That's bullshit! I'm kind to you all the time!'

'Oh, really? Like when?'

'I don't have to--'

'When?!'

'Well, when... when...' Becky's hand flailed in the air as her mind flew around and grabbed an answer, '...that night when you said the C-word and I still sat on your face!'

The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. Bryan's face took on a horrible expression, looking at her the way a policeman might look at a murderer. When he spoke, his tone seemed to freeze the skin on her cheeks.

'So having sex with me is an act of kindness?'

'No, not sex...'

'Oh, just that particular act?'

'No! That's not what--'

Bryan flew off the couch. He paced the floor, stopping every time he was struck with a thought.

'So, you sitting on my face is equal to me cooking an evening meal?'

'Bryan...'

'And I suppose a blowjob is equal to me hoovering four times a week?'

'Bryan!'

Becky got up to go to him, but Bryan jumped back.

'Don't you touch me!' he snarled.

Becky froze in shock. 'Don't you touch me' was her go to phrase when she was angry with Bryan, but Bryan had never said it to her. Judging by his expression, he was also aware of this reversal. Bryan gave a sarcastic cough in lieu of laughter.

'Well, look at us!' he said. 'Aren't we a progressive couple?!'

Becky stared after him as he stalked out of the room, that sneer still on his face. Less than a minute later, she heard the front door open and close and his footsteps fading as he walked to the car.

She was going to be spending the rest of that evening alone.