“Anna! Anna! Your prince has arrived!” he exclaimed with arms outstretched. He stumbled over his feet but caught himself on our table. “Where is my supper?” He looked around the room, dazed. “I demand that you have my supper ready when I come home, woman.”

I helped him to a chair. “And I demand a husband who isn’t a drunk. If only wishes were gold.” I dropped a bowl in front of him. “Did you drink all the money that you earned today?”

He reached into his pocket and slammed a dirty fist on the table. Coins spilled from his fingers, spinning and rolling all over the table before he focused on shoveling food into his mouth. Half of it tumbled down the front of his shirt. I turned away from him in disgust. I heard his chair scrape along the floor. “I fought for you and I won. You are my prize. My prized jewel,” he said, trying to reach out for me.

I pulled away, evading his grasp. “Well, it would appear that you were duped.”

“Why do you not love me like other wives? They dote upon their husbands.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing how this argument went. We had it every time he was drunk. He came home, complained about his life, and complained about me, culminating in a childlike meltdown. I sighed. “Because I never wanted to marry you.”

“You shouldn’t say such things to me. I am a good husband.”

“If you say so.” I walked into the bedroom, letting him follow me like a sick dog.

“Without me, you would be nothing.”

I nodded.

He sat on the bed. “Why don’t you make love to me? A good wife would perform her duties.”

I walked up to him as he slowly blinked his bleary eyes. Reaching out, I poked him in the middle of his forehead. With a heavy thud, he fell back onto his pillows, asleep. I finished putting him into bed and went back to the kitchen to finish eating my dinner alone.

Two days later my mother arrived at my door. She sat down at my kitchen table with a heavy sigh. “Your husband came to visit me yesterday.”

“Did he now?” I said, pulling my shawl tighter. A surprise visit from my mother required a gourd of strong mate. I went straight to the stove to begin brewing it as she went on.

“He tells me you are being a cruel wife again.”

“When have I ever been a kind wife?” I asked, looking out the window. The sky was darkening with the onset of the afternoon rains. Every day at precisely the same time, the sky would open up and a torrential downpour would wash over us. It also meant that my mother would be visiting for longer than I would prefer.

“Anna, you have to be good to your husband. You don’t want him to leave you, do you? Then you will have nothing.”

“Mother, I have nothing now.” I spread my arms out to show the expanse of my small kitchen with its tiny woodstove, wobbly table, and dingy cabinet that held what little food we had. I didn’t even have a parlor. Below us was a general store; above us, another apartment, even smaller than ours. “I did as you told me and married the man. What more do you want? I cannot love a man I do not respect.”