When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in
front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car
in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy. I
was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene of ten years ago.
The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid, I
went into business and tried to make more money.
When the assets were steadily increasing, the affections between us seemed to
ebb.
She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home
almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more
likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.
Dew came into my life.
It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony.
Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her
stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.
Dew said, "You are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her words
suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we just married, my wife said,
"Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls."
Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife.
But I couldn't help doing so.

I moved Dew's hands aside and said," You go to select some furniture, O.K.?
I've got something to do in the company."
Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised her to go and see with
her.
At the moment, the! idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it
used to be something impossible to me.
However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how
mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt. Honestly, she was a
good wife. Every evening she was busy
preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon.
Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer,
visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slight joking way, "suppose we divorce, what will
you do?" She stared at me for a few seconds without a word.
Apparently she believed that 'divorce' was something too far away from her. I
couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.
When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the
staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something
while talking with her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled
at my subordinates. But I read some
hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, "He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live
together." I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.
When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand.
"I've got something to tell you," I said.
She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know
what I was thinking. "I want to divorce." I raised a serious topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be much annoyed by my words, instead she asked me
softly, "why?". "I'm serious." I avoided her> question. This so-called answer
turned her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "you are
not a man!".
At that night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she
wanted to find out what had happened to our
marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart
had gone to Dew.
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she
could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at
it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart.
The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger
one day. But I could not take back what I had said.
Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see.
To me her cry was actually a kind of
release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed
to be firmer and clearer.
A late night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing
something at the table. I fell asleep fast.
When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was aslee p
again.
She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but
I was supposed to give her one month's time before divorce, and in the
month's time we must live as normal life as possible. Her reason was
simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't
want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, "He Ning, do
you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day?"
This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me.
I nodded and said, "I remember". "You carried me in your arms", she
continued, "so, I have a requirement, that is, you
carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end
of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every
morning."
I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to
end her marriage with a romantic form.
I told De w about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and
thought it was absurd. "No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the
result of divorce," she said scornfully. Her words more or less made
me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn't had any body ! contact since my
divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a
stranger. So when I carried her out for the first day, we both appeared clumsy.
Our son clapped behind us, "daddy is holding mummy in his arms." His
words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the
sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms.
She closed her eyes and said softly, "Let us start from today, don't tell our
son."
I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went
to wait for bus, I drove to office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my
chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse.
I realized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time.
I fo! und she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her
face.
On the third day, she whispered to me, "The outside garden is being
demolished. Be careful when you pass there."
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an
intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The
visualization of Dew became vaguer.
On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where
she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded.
The sense of intimacy was even stronger.

I didn't tell Dew about this. I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the
everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, "It seems not difficult to
carry y ou now."
She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a
few but could not find a suitable one. Then
she sighed, "All my dresses have grown fatter." I smiled. But I suddenly
realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily,
not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her
heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to
touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. "Dad, it's time to carry mum out." He said.
To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of
his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned
my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I
held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to
the hallway.
Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as
if we came back to our wedding day . But her much lighter weight made me
sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step.
Our son had gone to school. She said, "Actually I hope you will hold me in
your arms until we are old."
I held her tightly and said, "Both you and I didn't notice that our life was lack
of such intimacy."
I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any
delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the
door. I said to her, "Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious."
She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. "You got no
fever." She said. I moved her hand off my head.
"Sorry, Dew," I said, "I can only say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My
marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of
life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that
since I
carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to h old
her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you."
Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed
the door and burst into cry. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.
When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife
which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me to write the greeting words on
the card. I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until we are
old."