Call it a Good Marriage

Call It a Good Marriage by Robert Graves

Call it a good marriage -

For no one ever questioned

Her warmth, his masculinity,

Their interlocking views;

Except one stray graphologist

Who frowned in speculation

At her h's and her s's,

His p's and w's.

Though few would still subscribe

To the monogamic axiom

That strife below the hip-bones

Need not estrange the heart,

Call it a good marriage:

More drew those two together,

Despite a lack of children,

Than pulled them apart.

Call it a good marriage:

They never fought in public,

They acted circumspectly

And faced the world with pride;

Thus the hazards of their love-bed

Were none of our damned business -

Till as jurymen we sat on

Two deaths by suicide.

Dear Diary,

I’m miserable.

Those words are engraved into my head. Sitting there in court today, it was just dreadful. I knew this would happen all along but it doesn’t hurt any less. Everyday my husband would drill those words into my head, “call it a good marriage. Call it a good marriage.” It’s making me mad, totally insane. He is denying the fact that this is not going to work out. He doesn’t understand that repeating the same dreadful melody will not change this marriage. Nothing is going to change this marriage, especially not repeating the same damn thing! I understand he wants this to work out, Diary, I really do. I want this to work out too! But he is just in denial. I’ve accepted the fact that this is not a good marriage, it never was and never will be.

This whole situation is so ironic. I almost could not accumulate enough will to stop myself from causing a disruption in court today from the irony! I don’t see how we managed put up such an absolute charade. “They never fought in public/ They acted circumspectly/ And faced the world with pride.” That is what the jury spoke out. All I could do is sit there, taking the insult and embarrassment. It was completely and utterly the opposite. When in public, he would squeeze my arm so tight, and if he could, he would pinch my side arm, forcing me to smile. How could anyone not see our misery? “Call it a good marriage...” I still can hear him say it, Diary.

“Two deaths by suicide,” was the last thing I heard the jurymen say. At first, I didn’t understand for no one died. It was just a simple divorce case. Not even several hours ago as I was scrubbing the floor did I realize what it meant. We hadn’t died physically. We’ve died emotionally, internally. We allowed our misery to brew inside and we spoke nothing of it. In return, we’ve killed ourselves. We’ve let it happen to ourselves. We denied the facts which were so strategically placed. We chose to ignore the inevitable and for that we will pay, especially myself. He is a man: strong, adventurous-- and fertile. No baggage will remain on him from this marriage. He will remarry in the very near future. But myself, the church will shun me for I am an infertile, divorced middle-aged woman. No man shall ever dare marry an outcast women like myself. I no longer have anything to live for. Marriage is a sham. The meaningless words spoken over and over will drive one insane. Unknown ignorance has been the death of me and this marriage, I promise you. I’m so sorry, Diary.