Cuckoldry

My deer husband. 

He was a terrible man. So bland and grey, always working. Went to work early every morning. It was such a headache for me. I had to get up at dawn to play the good housewife and make the cruel morning working-husband-friendly. I navigated out of the stern four walls of our bedroom to our spacious living room, dark only till the curtains were drawn and the sun glimpsed our gloomy little place. 

Though the service was a terrible punishment the morning silence was pleasant. I hated his voice, it was annoying. Still, because he earned a more than comfortable salary, it was bearable. So I got up every morning earlier than I liked, crept into the kitchen and made my husband a hearty breakfast. And when the alarm rang he’d get up and stumble into the bathroom, take his own time sobering himself, and just as well stumble back out. He’d dress himself in his white collar, put on his tan leather shoes, knot a double Windsor, gel his hair and step out of the bedroom to greet his beaming wife, and I’d be there to suit his liking. He’d take his seat at the table and I, the elegant yet active housewife, would gently place his morning meal at the table. He’d smile at me and indulge his greedy eyes.

But when the show was all played and done, and I was left to my own company, I’d wait for my Darling to come back again. My Darling was suave. My Darling was charming, and he was the one for me. He’d come by my house and greet me in his voice of honey, and we’d spend the day in love. 

In hindsight, I should’ve come clean the first time my husband grew suspicious and asked me what I did at home all day. “Don’t you get bored?” But poor man, he was too ignorant to see through my deceitful denial. 

Perhaps I should’ve become a bit weary when my husband came home with his hair sticking out in odd shapes. And all the other days hence when they seemed to take the shape of horns. 

Of course, you never really realise how far something has gone until it’s too late. Each day he came home a little odder and each time I waved it off as nothing. Had it been anything I would’ve liked it to be his own affair behind my back. Then we’d be even. But fate works differently. 

Perhaps I should’ve been more concerned when he developed a sudden, rather strong, appetite for greens, despite his initial meat-oriented palate. But a change in food preferences is hardly a good cause for suspicion. So I went on. I paid no heed to his odd and disfigured head, his strange appetite, his thickening body hair, least of all, to his cold and hollow brown eyes which seemed to see less and less every day. 

It was very foolish of me, of course. Most wives would worry seeing their husband slowly turn into an animal. But I was intrigued and watched with much fascination. I watched with wide eyes, with more intrigue than I ever bestowed on him before, as my husband scarfed down his greens, as he struggled with his tableware and drunkenly manoeuvred himself around the house. I listened intently as he slurred his words and forgot my name, as he only yelped and moaned and altogether stopped talking. I made myself comfortable on our bed as he took to the floor for rest at night. I only smiled and walked alongside his burly figure as he clopped and creaked from room to room. 

His shoulders were wide and sturdy, his legs were skinny and long, his hair was thick and brown and hid his hard skin. But his antlers were the crown of his magnificent transformation. Wide and angular, they were the making of gods. 

Those were the true glory days of my deer husband. Then, he was at his best. 

Though it could not last for long, with gracious thanks to my deer husband I enjoy a fabulous spread of venison with my Darling for dinner tonight. Gracious thanks for his remarkable provisions. Through and through, the resourceful man that I knew him to be. And as an act of propriety and for his kindness to us, my Darling and I have hung his sublime and fantastic head – antlers, shallow brown eyes and everything – right in our living room. I wish I could say I wanted things back to the way they were, with no deer husband, but perhaps in such a longing I would neglect the sacrifices of his life. And that would only be too cruel – to be an unsatiable wife to the end. 

May he continue to bless us in incredible ways to the very end.