Nothing else mattered.
Someone had
eaten the last banana.
I had planned—as
always—to have that banana with my morning oatmeal. It was a ritual, a
necessary piece of the puzzle that ensured my day started right. And now, that
was impossible.
Impossible
because I was not going to bundle up and trudge into the near-Arctic night at
11:30 p.m. for a single banana. Waking up early to buy one would only defeat
the purpose of a calm, stress-free morning.
I could already
see how this would play out. Tomorrow was going to suck.
I shuffled into
the bedroom, heavy with disappointment. “Someone ate my banana,” I muttered, my
voice thick with accusation.
My wife barely
looked up from her phone, where a cat video had her rapt attention. “What?” she
asked, distracted.
“Someone ate my
banana,” I repeated, more emphatically this time.
“It wasn’t me.” She
swiped at the screen, eyes fixed. “Here, watch this. It’ll make you forget your banana issues.”
I sighed and
stepped closer, humoring her. The video showed a cat creeping along a
snow-covered roof, tail twitching as it navigated the slippery surface.
Suddenly, the snow beneath its paws gave way, pulling the poor creature into a
miniature avalanche. The cat tumbled off the roof, landed with a dull thump on
a car below, and disappeared beneath a mound of snow. A muffled meow. A human
laugh. Then, after a moment, the cat emerged, snow capping its head like an
embarrassed king. Victory was brief, though. Gravity and ice conspired to send
it sliding down the windshield into yet another snowy abyss.
“This entertains
you?” I asked, incredulous.
She didn’t
answer immediately. Then, without looking up, she said, “I want a divorce.”
Silence.
I blinked.
“What?” I asked in stunned response.
“I want a
divorce,” she repeated, this time as casually as if she were asking me to pass
the salt.
“All because I
asked you a question?”
“No.” She swiped
again, chuckling at a new video. “I’ve been having an affair with your boss.”
I stared at her,
feeling as if I, too, had just been yanked into an avalanche.
“You’re sleeping with my boss?”
“He’s sweet.
Kind. No banana issues.” She smirked, still not looking at me. “You only think
about yourself.”
I stood there,
absorbing it all—the betrayal, the absurdity, the way she hadn’t even paused
her scrolling as she coldly dismantled our marriage.
And yet, my mind
circled back to the one thing I could control ... the thing that mattered most to me.
I had no choice
now. I had to go to the convenience store.
And pray they
had bananas.
Nothing else
mattered.