folie a deux

from mr. fox by helen oyeyemi

"he says's he's fine and he acts as if he's fine, but he's in a bad way. i don't blame him for not being able to tell; he doesn't do sane work for a living. and i have been sleeping with him, eating with him; we took a bath together last tuesday -- so i'm in a bad way, too. i've seen and heard a woman he made up. i know what this is called - a folie a deux, a delusion shared by two or more people who live together. it was such a strong delusion, though. like being on some kind of drug. nobody warned me how easily my brain could warp a sunny morning so fast that i couldn't find the beginning of the interlude. one moment i was alone, the next. . . i was still alone, i guess, and making the air talk to me."

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"i came to him without substance, and six years later i'm still the same. sometimes i say terrible things to him because i don't want him to know i'm sad; sometimes i fly off the handle to hide the fact that i don't know what i'm talking about. and other times - too often, maybe - i don't dare have an opinion in case it upsets anyone. i'm too stupid for him.

have you ever heard a note in someone's voice that said 'this is the end'? i heard it in the next words he said to me, and i stopped listening. have you ever wanted to try and cross an ending with some colossal revelation - 'there's something i never told you. i'm a princess from the kingdom atop mount qaf,' for example - 'my family live in eternal youth, and if you abide with me, you will, too. i kept this secret from you to see if you would cherish me for who i am.' have you ever wished, wished, wished. . .

my head got so heavy, it sank down onto my chest. so say whatever it is you think you've got to say, st. john. that you're not in love with me. that you need to be alone. say it. i'm not going to like it, no, i won't like it at all. but i'll be all right.

i told him that i loved him. i've never, ever, said that to him before, because i just didn't know how he'd take it. i love you. i mouthed the words because there didn't seem any point in interrupting him just then. i don't know if he saw. i hope he did, because i don't believe it's the sort of thing a woman can tell a man more than, say, three times in their life together. it's only really appropriate in the event of a life-threatening emergency, 'i love you.' it means a different thing to us than it means to them. god knows what it means to them. god knows what it means to us.

'. . . start again, d. let's start all over again,' my husband said. he rested his hands on my shoulders for a moment, then took them away. 'can we?'

start again? nice in theory, but what was he really trying to say? how far back would we have to fall? all that undoing. . ."