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The One!

By Julie Grenness

Briony was ecstatic. She had finally met and married her One. The loving couple looked fabulous, a textbook Bridezilla wedding. Yes, he was the One.

After their romantic tropical honeymoon, Briony adapted so well to married life and produced heirs for the One. She maintained a busy schedule: marriage, motherhood, baking, gardening, community activities, as well as a fitness regime with the other yummy mummies. Briony did not choose to ‘let herself go’ because she might lose the One to another woman!

Time passed, and Briony’s love for the One stayed. All was seemingly picture perfect. Until a fateful day when the One caught a cold. Ailing, he took to his bed, not to arise for showers or shaving. The One lay coughing, moping, groaning n their darkened bedroom, surrounded by his phone, his laptop and a mountain of used tissues.

Worse! The One’s heirs all got infected by this same virulent germ. So did Briony. Then the eldest son also developed a gastro virus. The One groaned, while his kids yelled and vomited. Briony had by now developed a temperature, a sore throat and a dizzy head. Her nose was streaming. Then she heard one pitiful groan from the bed, where she wished she was laying. “What’s for dinner?” moaned the One.

Briony spat. Was this her One? She flung open their bedroom door, peering in the gloom at her One. Briony rasped, blowing her nose. “What do you mean, what’s for dinner?” Of all the germs you had to give us all, it is the One man-cold! I realize it is worse than the Bubonic Plague, Ebola Fever and Amoebic Dysentery. Oh yes, you have a cold. Mope on. I realize you think I am a fat, old cow. Go and look at your fat belly and smelly pajamas in the mirror.

“Your whining is so old, the dishwasher is flooded, and both your sons who look like you have just vomited again. I realize you cannot turn on any appliance in this home, or are pretending you can’t. Right now, at this moment in time, I, too, have your man-cold. Don’t ask me how I am! I am taking your kids to your mother’s! She wanted to be a grandma, so she can look after them. Feel free to join in raising your kids. You are my One! I no longer care if I lose you to another woman! Here’s your coffin, hop in. Even the morgue is not going to cook you chicken soup like your mother did. Don’t even beg!”

With that, Briony slammed the bedroom door in a symbolic fashion. She drove the One’s kids to his mother’s house and headed for home. Arriving, Briony collapsed into one of the children’s rumpled beds.

“Briony, I feel nauseous,” she heard the One groan. "Shut up!" Briony croaked, as she went to sleep for 10 hours. Never mind, things will look better in the morning for Briony and her One. One germ, the One man-cold!

— Julie Grenness

Julie Grenness is a poet and writer in Australia. She’s a former teacher who now tutors and mentors young people. 

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