The oedipus complex

Isolan

You never get used to the silence, especially when it’s made its home in your marriage. Hollowing walls and making it easier to notice cracks you’d done your best to ignore and forget.

The sandwich tasted bland, the tea bitter. But there was a time even herbs tasted sugar sweet and there was a time this heart rendering quiet was filled with laughter and, love. Happiness.

But that was the past.

The front door of the old two story house creaked open followed soon after by heavy foot steps and a few curses.

“I thought you’d be out later” I picked up my mug, and squeezed lightly, the tea had gained a new layer of bitterness

“There was a problem with the shipment so we called it quits early”

Luka Vidar entered the dining room covered in dust, his steel toed boots caked in mud and his face covered in multiple layers of grime.

He went to the counter, grabbed a cup, poured coffee, and took a long sip. He frowned.

“The coffee’s cold”

Then he slid into the seat across from me.

“It was hot two hours ago” I took another bite from the sandwich, it felt like eating glass but I forced a calm smile.

“Today’s a nice day isn’t it?” I picked up my mug and held it tightly trying to hide the tension knotting on my shoulders.

“I guess” he shrugged.

He hadn’t noticed. Then again he never did.

The tension settled into a mild irritation then just plain disappointment.

“I guess “ I smiled wryly as I cleared the table and made my way to the kitchen. I walked past the calendar, our wedding anniversary marked in red.

The disappointment gave way to a hollowness.

I didn’t have much left to care. I guess that’s why I didn’t bother preparing anything. And why I wouldn’t bother reminding him this year.

The kitchen smelled faintly of burnt toast and old wood, the sunlight through the small window painting dust motes across the counter. I rinsed my mug slowly, as if the movement could scrub the memory of happier mornings from the walls as well.

“Did you, uh, see the delivery schedule for next week?” Luka’s voice came from behind me, rough, tired, and careless. He leaned against the doorway, the dust from his jacket trailing like faint gray smoke in the sunlight.

“I glanced at it” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. My fingers tightened around the mug, the porcelain pressing into my palm. “Looks like a full week”

He nodded, eyes drifting to the worn linoleum floor, smudged with footprints he probably hadn’t noticed. Then, in that way he always did, he glanced at me,not really looking, not really seeing.

“You okay?” His words were soft, almost too soft, like he was testing if the silence had finally become a third person in the room.

I froze for half a heartbeat, then shrugged. “I’m fine”

He didn’t press. He never did. Just shuffled to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and unscrewed the cap. The click of the lid sounded disproportionately loud in the quiet house.

I leaned against the counter, staring at the reflection in the stainless steel, my own face distorted by fatigue and frustration. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the weight pressing against my chest,but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, Luka took a long drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said casually, “Dinner plans?”

I turned toward him, the mug still in my hand, the faint steam curling up like a fragile ghost. “I didn’t make anything”

He shrugged again, that easy, careless shrug that once made me smile. “Guess we’ll figure it out”

And in that small, indifferent exchange, the silence crept back into the room, heavier this time, folding itself into the corners, listening, waiting.

I walked to the window, looking out at the yard. The garden we’d planted together was wild now, tangled, unkempt,just like us. I touched the glass lightly, tracing a finger through the condensation, wishing I could trace the past the same way, back into something that felt real.

“You still with me?” Luka’s voice interrupted, more insistent this time, but still gentle.

I didn’t answer.

He exhaled slowly, a sound of someone used to emptiness. And then, after a pause that stretched too long, he said, almost under his breath, “I don’t know if we’re, okay”

The words hung there, but they didn’t change anything. Not really. Not yet.

I turned to him, my lips pressing into a line. “I don’t know either” I said quietly, almost wishing I meant it.

And for a moment, the house didn’t feel empty. But only for a moment.

“Are you picking up Tavi later today?” I said trying to dodge the tension, blinking away the burn at the corner of my eyes.

“He’s grown. He can get home okay on his own” he stumbled into the topic.

“I guess you’re right”

Tavi had grown a head taller, he seemed different from the boy I’d met years back.

Mature, thoughtful.

My mind went back to the way my hand wrapped around his, barely.

The way he always seemed to just be there, ready to offer support and comfort in a way that made me notice things.

“He’d make a good lover” the thought had crossed my mind countless times now.

It made me realize just how lonely I’d been.

I frowned.

“I was thinking of taking the boy out for the weekend. A little father-son bonding” he added a beat later

“I think that’d be good on you both” I smiled

Maybe good on me too.