Waiting
By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo
NO matter how willing you are to help, there will be times when you can’t. Especially when the one you are helping has to perform on her own certain required steps critical to making help possible, and she is unable to comply. Some suggested the lake, bring her to the lake, and wait for her to slake. But she refuses to drink, she sees the need, but she doesn’t drink.
At that point, you realize you are not a superwoman, you are just another vulnerable human being, with limited capacities, hoping, like everyone else, for a miracle. Whether that miracle happens depends on a confluence of events, and the many variables in the universe which is beyond anybody’s control.
No one, and absolutely no one is in control of all things all the time. No matter if you are rich or poor, educated or not, sane or insane. That is where the playing field becomes uneven, the reality (and the unreality) of equality manifests in a macabre way.
She waits. I can’t comprehend why she waits.
“In the years we have been married, I never came. He satisfies himself and he doesn’t wait a minute longer. That’s how the three kids were born.”
“Did you discuss this with him at all?”
“Not in so many words. But I made some overtures to let him know. I was not explicit about it, but I hinted each time. I am embarrassed to even discuss it.”
“You can make beautiful speeches, I am sure you can find the proper words to communicate your thoughts and feelings.”
“He has redeeming values, like he washes my clothes, cleans the house, fixes my clutter, to the point where I can’t find my own things in the order I wish to find them. He doesn’t earn a living. I am still the breadwinner till now. Maybe this is what God wants. In a way, I have no reason to complain. It is destiny.”
“I find that fatalistic. For a woman advocating women empowerment, it is incomprehensible.”
“Last month I brought him to the hospital to undergo medical check-up. I stayed with him until all the tests were done and he was cleared. In bed, I whispered to him, ‘I love you, tell me you love me.’ He abruptly turned around saying, “I can’t say those cheesy things, that’s not me.’ So I decided to wait another time.”
This is not the first time a colleague intimated that their intimate relationships with their partners were dismal. One of them already died. I suspect there are more women who keep the matter to themselves, faking satisfaction, thinking it is inappropriate to discuss, afraid it will endanger their relationships.
“It is destiny” is a cop out. There are many things that women can’t change, but surely they have the ability to create a future, here and now, at any age. Waiting is absurd, especially when all the kids have grown and have left the house to pursue their own lives.
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