Just Sayin’

two white and black chess knights facing each other on chess board
Photo by Syed Hasan Mehdi on Pexels.com

We are sitting opposite each other in our pants. The boys are asleep, knocked out by the heat.

“I’m writing to Denby.”

“Who?” asks my husband, looking up from his computer.

“You know, the pottery people.”

I hold up a mug we got as a gift for our wedding. It’s blue, dappled with flecks of green.

“It’s got a crack in it,” I explain.

There is a thin black line on the inside of the mug.

“Did you put it in the dishwasher?”

I wonder if this is a trick.  “Err yes.”

“Maybe the dishwasher was too hot for it.”

I shake my head. “But it’s Denby. Denby is renowned for its strength. That’s how they made their name.”

My husband has lost interest and holds a beer against his forehead to cool down. I am not finished.

“Look. Look at the Denby on the dresser. That’s my Nan’s Denby, from her wedding. Denby lasts forever!”

The dresser is laden with pottery stacked in piles around ornaments from holidays we have forgotten.

My husband half looks. “I’m just sayin’.”

“Just sayin’? Just sayin’ what? What does that even mean?”

“I’m just saying maybe the dishwasher was too hot.”

“You’re just saying it’s my fault.” I feel a flush of anger.

“No. I’m just saying perhaps the mug couldn’t withstand the heat of the dishwasher.”

“Denby doesn’t break! You are supposed to have it for the entirety of your marriage.” Something flicks in my mind. “Oh. I know. You’re just saying our marriage isn’t going to last because the cracks are already showing. Is that what you are ‘just sayin’?’”

I put the mug down a little harder than I mean to on the coffee table.

My husband laughs. “I’m not sure this pregnancy thing suits you.”

I wonder briefly how we can be having a third child together.

“This has got nothing to do with me being pregnant. Can’t a pregnant woman complain without it being because she is pregnant?”

He holds his hands up. “Of course, yes, pregnant women can most definitely complain.”

He leaves the room quickly, before I can say anything else, and returns with a bucket of cold water. He lifts my feet into it.

The next day it starts to rain, and we don’t need to sit in our pants anymore, and I don’t need to argue with every object, animal or human that crosses my path.

I had forgotten how much I like the sound of rain.

Author: Felicity Cousins


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