The Silent Wife

by Kerry Fisher

Little rebellions saved me from total insanity.

I’d been living this way for so long, the point on my life barometer for normal was probably everyone else’s emergency appointment with a psychoanalyst.

I did what I always did. Forced the emotion back inside me and sieved through the stock of reasons I usually used when I had reacted badly to Massimo or, God forbid, stood up for myself: ‘I’m tired.’ ‘I’ve had a difficult day with Sandro.’ ‘Sorry, I know you didn’t mean anything by what you said, I’m just a bit oversensitive today.’