Chapter three

When Ellaisaire came out of her shock, she looked around and noticed that she was sitting on the couch. Before she was Winter, her next-door neighbor. She had come in response to her distress call.

Ellaisaire asked, "Where am I? "

She received her answer.

After a lengthy talk, Winter departed saying, "I feel for you, my daughter, let me know should you need any help."

Holding the piece of paper with all her troubles written just like Winter had told her, Ellaisaire took some time to think through her problems. Presently, she folded this piece of paper twice and put it under her head, then closed her eyes. She had been asleep for about half an hour when Jose arrived from 'the waterhole'. Now looking at him standing at the door, she was not sure she had done the right thing to allow him into her life.

Jose only looked on. One thing was clear on his mind. His brief encounter with Satan had passed.

Ellaisaire rose from the couch as he laid down the shopping in his hand. She wondered if there will be other episodes of this nature. The two beheld each other and for a while, their doubts and misgivings subsided. Then Jose announced that he was going to cook dinner.

He said, "I am doing this because I love you with all of my heart."

Two teardrops raced down her cheeks. The teardrops landed on the piece of paper on her pillow.

Driven by the desire to prove his pecuniary skill, Jose laid before his wife a delicious meal.

The couple retired to bed. And when sleep came, they were overtaken. Sleep is never partial even to the most undesirable of characters of men and women. Sleep analysts say we dream, snore, pass wind, grind our teeth, and rest while at sleep. This couple here had a complete rest from their days' work. They qualified to be a sample for sleep analysis.

Ellaisaire was the first to wake up but surprisingly the last to get up. Jose was the last to wake up but understandably the first to get up. The reason being, Ellaisaire spent some time trying to remember what she saw in her dreams. Waking up to a new bright sunny day was a renewal of strength to this couple. Ellaisaire still worked for a hospital, while Jose worked as a freelance photographer, Artist cum short story writer. This family was on the correct path economically. And Jose owed it all to Ellaisaire. Even though Ellaisaire earned a lower salary, it was regular. Jose's income was bigger but unpredictable.

By pooling, they spent their money according to their needs. This established a cyclical mode of operation.

Today, Jose was meeting artists from all over the country to deliberate on the campaign strategy for revitalizing their work and above all, to determine the future of this profession. Artists were no longer touching people's souls. They had run out of fresh ideas and only recycled mundane themes. From music to dance, drawing and writing, many artists had abandoned their calling and now settled down in other careers. There were no more school enrolments in institutions of higher learning. To this end, the emeritus chairman to the school of performing arts in Pica in Italy was in town upon invitation, to help expose raw talents amongst the youth. It had been rumored that a competition was in the pipeline with a prize of 5,000 Euros to be given to the overall winner, together with other numerous goody-goodies. This was a busy day.

When he returned home that evening, Jose attempted to initiate conversation.

He said, "Darling, the day has been quite exhausting, I would like to go to bed early."

She answered, "Alright darling. I would like to spend a little more time in the sitting room. Would you like to join me in my quiet time?"

He answered, "Sure, sweetie. But I would rather do that tomorrow if it's okay with you."

Then he remembered the smudge of blood on the bedsheets and also in the bathroom. So, he turned round to ask "darling, did you hurt yourself about three or four days ago? I saw some stains of blood on the bedsheet and the bathroom."

She answered, "Yes my dear, it's just a little cut on my wrist; it is now completely healed."

Jose said, "You should have told me about it, darling. You know, I care about your wellbeing."

She answered, "Darling, your schedules have been tight and there has never been enough time for us to talk."

Upset by the long and deep silence between them, José sat on the couch in the sitting room, waiting for her to give details. This day was truly playing out to be an exhausting day for Jose and his wife.

Jose asked, "You informed me that my son would be coming home when schools close, have you changed your mind?"

Those words hit her like hammers.

She answered, "No, would you like us to visit him before then?"

He answered, "Of course yes. However, let's do first things first."

Jose felt tired more than ever. A day could never be worse. He resigned to fate. Suddenly, an old tune came to his ears. It was the sound of grief; a lost battle; defeat. It was a dirge. He got up to find his way to the bed where he kept on turning and tossing. And when sleep eventually came, it came intermittently.

It was at the time when'd just made the final installment of sleep waiting to clear the balance for that night's debt, when he shook the peaceful Park View neighborhood with an eardrum piercing scream. Ellaisaire was shaken from sleep and as she collected herself noticed that her husband was sitting on their bed sweating and shaking from head to toe. On his face, there was a horrible look; the look of an animal that was wild and fierce- a bloodthirsty animal. She went over to him.