4
min

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2 readings

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Hi, my name is Wilson. I have a beautiful wife named Winnie, and together we live in a large apartment in New York. I am in charge of housekeeping, while my wife goes out to work. We lived a quiet life.
About a year ago, my wife started acting a bit strange. She began talking less, and became less active. Oftentimes, at the end of each day I would start a conversation with her by asking how her day went. She would give a good enough answer, but nothing else. She wouldn't engage anymore in the topic than she had to- or sometimes wouldn’t respond to me at all.
I tried to talk to her more. I would ask more questions. But still, she would give me a simple response, then head off to sleep.
Eat, work, sleep, I thought. The only three things she does.
One day, she came back at 7 o’clock- as usual. She sat down at the dinner table where I had prepared dinner. Without saying a word, she grabbed a fork and knife, and started dining.
“How was your day?”
“Good.”
“How’s work? What did you accomplish today? Any plans for tomorrow?”
“Good.”
And the topic stops here, I thought. “Do you like the dishes I’ve prepared?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“Which one do you like the most?” I pushed further.
She looked up at me
“All.” she responded dully.
I paused, and took a deep breath.
“Why are you like this?” I exploded.
“Like what?”
“You were so lively before, and now you never talk. You don’t answer my calls, you don’t- do anything.” I stopped, noticing that she was crying.
She got up and went to her room, shutting the door behind her. Suddenly I felt sorry for yelling at her. She probably had a long day at work, and now I’m blaming her for being down. I felt like a bastard. I walked over to the door, I could hear her inside.
“I’m sorry, I never really thought about how you feel.”
No response.
“Alright, good night honey.”
I headed to the kitchen to finish the dishes, and went to bed.

The next day, I went to my doctor (which happened to be a good friend of mine) and described to him the situation. He handed me a small container of medicine to bring home, and told me to give to her.
Later that night, I offered the pills to my wife, but she slid the pills back to me.
“I know you are under pressure, I get it, but you should take these pills. To make you feel better.” I said in a soft voice.
“You should take it, Jack. You need it.” She responded.
I was confused, why do I need the pills, the pills are for her, what’s wrong with her? I thought.
“Why should I need it?” I asked kindly, trying to avoid what had happened yesterday.
“Trust me, you just do. Take it, it’ll make you feel better.” And again, she stood up, and walked to her room.
I asked my friend if he knew any good doctors, and he recommended a well known psychologist that recently had arrived in America. He gave me his contact information, saying he had already signed me up. I thanked him and went home, the contact information in my hand.
“Honey, do you have time tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“I signed you up for a appointment with a psychologist tomorrow, is there anyway way that you can go?”
She sighed, “Sure, because you need it.”
Why would I need it? I questioned myself, but I didn't want to press the topic further, to avoid any changes.

The next morning we arrived sharply at 7:00AM, and walked in holding each others hands. But as soon as we stepped in the door, everyone turned their attention to us. The kids looked up from their phones, conversations stopped. The temperature of the rooms atmosphere dropped. Everyone looked at us like we needed help.
I went to sign in for my presence. “My name is Wilson, I’m here for the appointment with my wife Winnie.”
The nurse hesitated and said, “Okay. Dr. Jack would be right with you.”
We sat back down in silence, until we heard the nurse call “Winnie?!”
“Coming!” I turned around and spoke gently, “We’re up honey.”
She stood up and followed me in.
We walked in and the doctor began to speak. “Alright, how are we today?” he said delightfully.
“Good-” he interrupts me. “That’s good to hear, and if you would let me read this...” When he began reading I took a moment to look around, and noticed that his smile immediately turned into a frown.
“What’s the matter?” I nervously asked.
“Nothing. Anyways, describe to me what’s wrong...” He paused. “With your wife Winnie.”
I began describing how she had become less active, talking less, and the problems that had come up because of it. I was relieved by the fact that he was taking notes, but with my wife sitting next to me, I knew I had to watch my words.
Then his pen stopped writing, and he asked me if there was anything else left to say. I shook my head, he handed me a bottle of blue pills.
“Be sure both you and your wife take these pills each day at the same time. Have a great day.” He said. I gave him my thanks and left, not putting any thought to his words.
That night, I took out the bottle of pills and recalled his words: Be sure you and your wife both take these pills. Wait- why would I have to take these pills? I looked at them and noticed they were the same kind that my friend had offered. Why did I to go to Dr. Jack? Couldn’t I have saved money if I haven’t? I looked at the time, 9 o’clock. Time to end this silence.
“Winnie?” I asked, opening the door. I hadn't actually entered her room in a year, she likes her privacy. Everything looked so messy, like the room hadn’t been touched in a year. There was a suitcase on her work table, and everything in the room looked like it hadn’t moved it since it had arrived there. The news paper on the floor caught my attention. When I picked it up, she answered “Yeah?”.
“We should take those pills.” I suggested, handing over the bottle.
“You need it more than I do.” She offered back.
Be sure both of you take it, I remembered. “Fine. But you have to take it after me, okay?” She nodded, and I swallowed the pill. For a second I felt very dizzy, like my head was a 100 pound rock that my neck couldn’t support. Then it went back to normal. Without looking I handed over the pills, and there was no one. No response, not a single noise.
“Take it...” I paused, realizing that there was no one in the room except for me.
“Winnie?” No response.
“You there?” Dead silence.
I glanced at the container of pills, that same container. Then my attention moved towards the news paper I had been holding in my hand, the headline stating: March 1st, 2018 Winnie Brown announced dead in fatal two-car collision.

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