Life Through Glass

A day at the aquarium is just what we need, she thought to herself. It had been a long time since she and Robin had had a dedicated day to themselves and the thought of the calm, tranquil environment of the aquarium appealed to her; letting the surroundings dictate the mood, a mood that would allow them to focus on each other. A little world of bright technicolour, like being in a natural kaleidoscope. Magical almost and suspended from reality. It appealed to her sense of romanticism and she was desperately trying to hold onto this in the face of a barrage of the mundane. Their love had become stagnant. She wasn't sure why. Routine? Tiredness? Time constraints? Effort? All of the above? Quite probably. But she was not prepared to continue in this vein and this was her opening attempt at revival. She still loved Robin, she thought, although sometimes she wondered if she was convincing herself of this feeling rather than experiencing it.

Her original idea had been a day at the seaside, the image of her and Robin rushing away from the oncoming waves hand in hand and laughing at the near miss, and then sharing fish and chips together on the harbour wall, gamely batting away the gulls and fingering wind-tangled hair from her mouth, legs swinging, this being the pervading romantic picture that she currently held onto in her mind. A strange visualisation of their middle-aged selves really, but she imagined that they were like a vintage war couple, excited to see each other and enjoying the freedom and focus of having just each other in their immediate sphere, to savour and relish.

However, rationally, and after having a look at the forecast, she was sensible enough to realise that the day would be a washout, filled with greyness, grumpiness and umbrellas and snatched moments in shop doorways avoiding deluges and dampness, and trying to find ancient tearooms of lace tablecloths for shelter and solace. It was not what she wanted but she had found her initial idea of the sea alluring and was reluctant to completely let it go.

Earlier that week, while she had been reclining in the dentist's chair, mouth stretched and protective glasses on, she had been inspired by the looped presentation of CGI fish that were currently swimming on the ceiling-suspended TV screen above her - designed to calm the agitated patient below - and the aquarium idea came to her. It was decided there and then and she couldn't wait to put it to Robin.

It was fair to say that he had been enthusiastic. However, his response had put a bit of a dampener on it for her really. Apparently, there was a bike shop very close that Robin had been meaning to go to and so, if it was alright with her, could they go there too? She couldn't help thinking that it was the prospect of looking at bike paraphernalia which had prompted his reaction rather than the thought of spending dedicated time with her and she had found herself irritated. She wanted to protest really, feeling that the onus had been moved away from her initial intention, but when he had said, rather dismissively, "You don't mind, do you?", rather than seeing it as a opportunity to express her view candidly, she shrank from the confrontation of it, knowing that if she had have been honest, that it might have resulted in expressions of disappointment from him and comments about how he really didn't see how it was a big deal, him wanting to go as they could do both things with ease. It would all be rather rational, his conclusion, and despite the fact that she would have been rankled, she would have felt stifled in her protest by the logic. What she wanted to say was "I don't want to do that" but she could not say the words and so, shrugged, hoping that that would express sufficiently her dislike for the whole idea, but lacking, in her opinion, intuition, he took this as acquiescence. She couldn't help thinking that if she had suggested they visit, say, a fabric shop, that he would have made an excuse why that would not be a good idea and she would have caved.

She made a conscious decision to be positive about the whole thing although it took some effort. She tried to visualise the underwater world that they would enter and the colourful aspects of the creatures and the coral and the background of rocks with hidey holes and dappled light and calm, calm blue, and savour the serenity of observing sealife floating and transporting itself above her and around her with little effort. She could visibly feel herself relax at the prospect and leaned into the feeling, like it was a warm pillow.

The day of the visit came and off they went together to the Sealife Centre. It was an inauspicious start really, and she should have realised when Robin had taken charge of the maps' app to input the navigation that the day was not hers to control. She was driving, while Robin was guiding and as they continued, she thought more and more that this was not the way to the aquarium that she had researched. Robin, in between directions, was being chatty, which was unlike him, talking about what he would get from the bike shop and how it would make his biking experience so much more streamlined, with the latest tech to monitor his progress. She couldn't help thinking that the best way to streamline his experience would be tighter lycra in attempt to keep his burgeoning belly from hindering him, which in turn would be limited if he could drink a little less and avoid pastries. And maybe paying more attention to his facial hair, which was becoming unkempt, its raggedness bound to draw air resistance. She didn't say this. Instead, she asked:

"How much longer until we get to the Sealife Centre?'

The reply was not what she expected. She had not made it clear to Robin that they were going to the Sealife Centre. He thought she had meant the aquarium on the outskirts of town, near the wetlands and the bike path. When he had said about the bike shop and how they would go there on the same day, he had thought that she had meant "The Aquarium" in the strip of shops, not Sealife. Her heart had sank.

"You never said "Sealife" as such, merely the aquarium and so naturally, I thought you meant "The Aquarium". Who wouldn't?" Robin said.

I wouldn't, she thought, but again, she didn't say it. She felt tight inside, and ironically, like she was unravelling. She took a deep breath and hoped that it would be okay.

***

The car park closest to the aquarium was packed. It wasn't very big really with limited spaces and it took them a long time of circling and patience to eventually find a space. Flustered and a little fraught, she opened the door of the car and squeezed her way out of the small space, sidling past the wing mirror and waited for Robin to get his list for the cycle shop from where he had put it by the cup holders. It had obviously slipped from where he had placed it as there was a lot of huffing and reaching and his bottom was protruding from the car, his trousers laying low and showing a little more of his rear than she really wanted to see. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time that she had looked at his naked form and with the glimpse that she had of his posterior right now, she wasn't really surprised that she couldn't remember. It was so...hairy and white, like a swollen Brie. Rather than dwelling on her husband's pale physique, she decided to take in her surroundings.

Bland, brick buildings: orange, uniform, dull, rectangular, placed together like squares around a Monopoly board. There was a sandwich shop, part of a franchise and a charity shop with the most uninspiring window display. Pigeons fluttered down and waddled comically by the big black refuse bins, brimming with plastic discards and coloured cardboard containers. Flat roofs and somewhere, bitumen was being used to reseal a leak somewhere and the air was permeated with the acrid smell of heat and black smoke. She screwed up her nose as her nostrils received it and tried unsuccessfully to reject it. This was not what she had envisioned at all.

She hadn't spotted "The Aquarium" yet but Robin had finally retrieved his list from the car and red faced but triumphant, tugging his trousers up and his tightly fitting coat down, he pointed the key fob at the car and came round to where she was stood.

"Right!" he said with enthusiasm. "Let's go! Cor, it doesn't half stink out here, doesn't it?"

He smiled at her but she was just about quelling her disappointment and could not muster up a smile to return. It didn't matter as he never waited for a response and strode off with a spring in his step in the direction of what she assumed was "The Aquarium". All she could do was follow.

They encountered the bike shop first and Robin did take the time to stop and have a look in the window. He shared his thoughts with her when she had finally caught up but it all sounded technical and specialised and she nodded in what she thought were the right places. Looking in the window herself, she could see what looked like a bike whose wheels could hypnotise you as they spun, like something out of a scene at Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, positioned next to a faceless mannequin dressed in the most luridly coloured and ludicrously tight outfit she had ever seen. To her, it was hideous but to Robin, it was the pinnacle to some long held goal.

Did she have the strength to break this reverie? Yes, she decided, she did.

"So, whereabouts is "The Aquarium"?" she asked.

Without a glance in her direction, he waved his hand and gesticulated with a dismissive, "Just around the corner. You can't miss it. You go on ahead, if you like. I won't be a moment."

With Robin still keenly scrutinising the window, she headed off in the vague directions she had been given and saw it: "The Aquarium". Oh dear. Drab, like the other buildings and a little care worn, with a sign that needed a repaint, she couldn't help but compare it to the shiny bigness of the Sealife Centre and find it wanting.

The windows to the place had colourful painted murals on them with cartoon sealife with big eyes and smiling faces as well as a shark looming in the background, who, she thought, had been given a slight squint, which made him look quizzical rather than menacing. She imagined that it had been charming for children when first done but was showing signs of age and was dated, a naivety to it that spoke of it having been done by a family member who was seen as having drawing skills rather than the thoroughness of having been painted by a professional.

It was not what she had imagined but an aquarium it was and so, she resolutely opened the door and stepped over the threshold, only to think "Should I wait for Robin?" and she found herself turning back to look out of the door. There was no sign of him and so she decided there and then that this day would be for her no matter what and that she was determined to enjoy it. If Robin wanted to spend more time looking at bikes rather than be with her, then so be it.

In that instant of positive commitment to the day, she felt a sense of liberation that she hadn't felt in years: the carefree indulgence of the single person who can do what they like, when they like.

It was dark ahead of her but she was able to see by the light coming from the many tanks. There was a desk in front of her and a smartly dressed man looked up and smiled at her as she approached him.

"Welcome to "The Aquarium". Just you, is it?" he asked.

She wasn't sure what to say. "Um, yes, but no, actually. My husband is coming along in a minute." She stopped and then found herself adding, "I hope."

The man, whose badge stated his name was "Tom" said, "Not to worry. It's not a very big place so I am sure that he'll be able to find you when he arrives." He pressed some buttons on a calculator and said "Are you paying for him too?"

What should she do? "No, just me and then he can pay when he gets here." If he ever does, she thought to herself.

The door opened as she said this and she felt a spark of hopefulness as she turned to see who was there, only to find that it was a mother with a pushchair and a baby strapped to her, and no Robin. She sighed again. Where there had been peaceful exchange, there was now noise and she quickly passed over the small fee and headed towards the first batches of tanks.

It was more of a pet shop environment than the immersive experience she had wanted but the place seemed to be well-maintained - clean tanks, creative displays, and lots of colourful sea creatures, floating around. Despite herself, she found herself enjoying it and let her thoughts float and drift like the weed waving in the water and let the neon and carnival colours of the tropical fish make her think of better, warmer days.

Until she arrived at the turtle. It was in a tank that was too small for it and it was swimming back and forth, back and forth in repetition like it was pacing, looking for a way to escape. Its water looked darker, less hospitable, than it appeared in the other tanks containing other creatures. She imagined what it would be like to live in such an environment after having experienced the vastness of the oceans and she was struck by the sadness of its situation viscerally and totally. She desperately wanted to leave it, but couldn't. Its misery gripped her and she was conscious of an uncomfortable guilt if she just turned away from it and left it. Its determined movement of desperation held her. Startling even herself, she found that she was crying and she knew deep down that it wasn't just as a result of sympathy for the turtle.

"Oh, what a sad old thing," a voice said next to her, surprising her as it was Robin. "Poor creature."

She turned to look at him and was again surprised to see, firstly, him at all as she had written off him ever arriving to share this experience with her but also the depth of pain on his face. She had no idea how long he had been there. He was holding a coffee cup and a bag, which appeared to contain a bakery item, in each hand. Was that a tear gently falling down his face towards the thicket of beard? Impulsively, she found herself reaching for that tear with her thumb and wiping it away. He turned to look at her. She was immediately drawn to the way that his eyebrows were being pushed together by the attempted containment of emotion, creating a ridge of hurt between them, a folding of skin that could not be suppressed, and that this told her that he was deeply affected by what he was seeing.

She simply looked at him and said, "Yes. Trapped."

He took his eyes away from her and looked back at the turtle still continuing his pacing-by-swimming. She did the same. She had never felt so helpless. She could not take her eyes away from the turtle's hypnotic motion, like a metronome of misery. It never slowed or deviated. It was mesmeric. They stood there in front of it for a long time, it seemed, until the sound of the approaching family, made them break their gaze from the tank and look at each other.

Robin returned his eyes to the tank before speaking first. "I'm sorry about the mix-up about the Sealife Centre," he said. "And I'm sorry about the time I spent at the cycle shop, just now." He paused but she did not attempt to fill it. She instinctively felt like more was to come from this exchange and she would be patient.

Robin continued. "I'm not happy." He was gazing at the tank, and she realised, was keen to get his words out before the family rounded the corner and entered the zone where they were standing. She felt a sudden pang of panic: what was he going to say next? Was he leaving her? She could feel her heart pounding at his words and the sudden shocking realisation that she did not want to be without him. As she had been standing, looking at the miserable existence of the turtle in front of her, she had been open to the fanciful idea that she and the turtle were the same, encased in a world where they were no longer free to explore, to be themselves, limited by its constraints so that they were stifled and likely losing their minds as a result. That they were alone in their unhappy state. She had been thinking that Robin was the restraint, the keeper of the tank she found herself in but now that Robin was talking, the germ of an idea was forming that perhaps she was a contributor to his unhappiness too. She opened her mouth to say something along these lines, to stop his flow of words, to stop the separation coming, but he held up his right hand, still gripping the coffee and whatever was in the bag, to stop her from continuing.

They were looking at each other again now and she hoped that her eyes were telling him what he would not let her say at that minute: that she did love him and want him and that they had both lost their way. The need to say these things was becoming insurmountable but Robin had not spoken to her like this in months. She waited, every bit of her tense at his next words.

"I miss you, Ruth. Very much. We've been lost to each other for a while now and I don't mean to sound pretentious, but that's how I see it. I know that you think I'm a selfish idiot who only cares about cycling but that's not me. Not me at all. I'm trying to find something...I don't know...outside of you...of us and nothing seems to fill that gap..." He trailed off and looked embarrassed that he said so much. "I feel like you don't like me very much anymore." He had the same pained expression on his face as he had before when he was looking at the turtle and her heart filled with love for him.

He added, "I know I've got a bit porky and I took up the cycling to sort of get rid of some of this..." Again, he paused, his eyes following the turtle's relentless motion. "But it doesn't make me happy." Ruth also turned to look at the tank, processing what he was saying when he spoke again.

"I'm lonely and I don't think you want to be around me anymore, that I'm annoying and irritating to you. The cycling was just a...some of the boys at work talked about cycling and how much they enjoy it and they encouraged me to join them but I don't like it very much. At least, I don't like it with them. They're into all the gear and gadgets and the lycra but it's not me. I thought it might be, but it's not. They talk about it as a way of escaping their wives but I don't feel that way. Not at all."

Ruth turned to him then and smiled at him. Robin still looked at the tank. She again went to open her mouth to say something but he spoke again.

"I just want us to be like we were. We used to have fun together, didn't we? I don't know..." He shook his head. "I don't know...if you want this anymore." Robin gestured to himself, still holding the coffees and bakery bags as the family finally came around the corner.

He turned to look at his wife then and was relieved to see her smiling at him, smiling like he hadn't seen in a long time. His arms were starting to get tired holding the coffee cups and the custard slice that he had bought for her on an impulse from the homely baker round the corner. He hoped they were still her favourite.

As if sensing his discomfort, she reached for one of the coffees and the bags and took it off him and took his now free hand in hers. He felt the warmth and security of it and they continued to stand there together, holding hands until the family moved on. In those quiet moments, he felt more optimistic than he had in a long time. As did Ruth.

The noise receding from their zone broke the spell as they were once more left alone. Still holding hands, Ruth spoke.

"Shall we enjoy these coffees outside? Maybe walk around the wetlands?"

"Yes," Robin replied, his eyes still following the turtle. "I got you a custard slice too."

Ruth smiled. "My favourite." she said and squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

They were both still stood, still mesmerised by the turtle, still continuing its haunting, frantic patrol.

"I don't think I can leave him here, do you?" Robin said.

Ruth was startled by this as she had been thinking exactly the same.

"He needs to see the ocean again, don't you think?"

Ruth squeezed his hand again and said, "Absolutely."

Robin leaned in to the tank and said to the turtle, "Hang in there, fella. We're going to get you out of here and where you belong. The wide, wide ocean for you, not some tank. No more pacing. I don't know how we're going to do it but we will. Ruthie and I won't let you down. Freedom will be yours. We'll make sure of that. You'll see."

Ruth had never been imbued with more warmth than she had in that moment.

"Right. Let's go and talk to that bloke on the desk."

It occurred to her then, that her instincts had been right: a day at the aquarium was what they needed after all.