New T.V. ‘Aeeee?’ Geoff trilled like a scolded cat. ‘Aeeee?’ ‘You heard me. I said we need a new television.’ ‘No we don’t!’ he replied sharply, instinctively reaching for the remote. ‘There’s nothing wrong with this one.’ I knew this was going to be difficult. Geoff could act like a petulant child when he didn’t understand things or couldn’t have his own way. Petulant and obtuse. Sitting on the edge of the sofa I peered across at him over the tops of my spectacles. ‘Geoff, how can you say that? How can you sit there and seriously say that? You’re the first one to moan if it doesn’t come on. Believe me, it would be funny if I didn’t have to get up and switch the damn thing off and on.’ He looked at the television for a moment, then turned to me, yanking his glasses from his ears. He pouted like a teenage girl. ‘Oh that’s not true, love. It’s-‘ ‘Yes it is! You sit there and wait for someone else to do it. If it’s not me then it’s Lisa. I could count the times you’ve done it on one hand.’ His forehead creased at my words, giving him the sour look of a berated four-year old. He worked his jaw up and down as he considered the remote he held on the arm of the chair, grasping it as though it was the winning lottery ticket. I sat quietly, regarding him with a challenging look and daring him – just daring him – to try and deny this. But he didn’t. Instead Geoff clumsily slipped his glasses back on his nose and turned his attention to the newspaper on his lap, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Seconds ticked by from the clock on the mantelshelf. I sighed noisily. We had been here too many times before. He cleared his throat; a practice that was more an annoying habit than a necessity. ‘Huhhra … hurh … mmrrgh.’ I waited. The secret with Geoff was to just wait. Finally, he looked uncomfortably at me with a pathetic ‘I don’t want’ scowl and said, ‘I’m sorry but I’m used to this one, Sheila. I know how to work it.’ As excuses went it was pretty weak. Perhaps realizing this, he turned back to the newspaper without another word. I snorted, surprised at his lack of objection. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. A television’s a television, they all work the same. If that’s the only reason you can-’ ‘And what about the money, aeee?’ he countered. ‘A new TV’s not going to be cheap. Christ, you forget I’m not working anymore. We’ve got to go easy - at least ‘til I get my pension.’ He emphasized his words with small thrusts of the remote and then held it to his chest like a comforter, a grown-up’s security blanket. I suppose it was the only thing that Geoff closely guarded, his only possession that he ever truly respected. He had aged with the thing. Years of togetherness had practically shaped it to his hand. Sweat and grime – his sweat and grime – packed the casing joints like old cement. Now nothing remained of the channel digits except a few sparse flecks of paint that had escaped his jabbing banana of a thumb. They were inseparable. Inseparable, and together: insufferable. I flopped back on the sofa in mock astonishment. ‘Geeeoff, I don’t believe you! You wasted seventy pounds trying to get the blessed thing repaired.’ ‘Oh come on now, the fella did solder something…’ ‘Yes, he did. We told him what was wrong – that it wouldn’t come on again after being left on standby.’ ‘Yeah, right, and…’ he muttered weakly. I ignored him. ‘We told him that sometimes it didn’t come on first thing in the morning. And what does he do, mmm? A five-minute solder job on the switch and charges seventy pounds. And it’s still doing it!’ I held up my hands in feigned resignation. Geoff dropped his gaze to the paper on his lap. He took a long time before replying. ‘But he did something to it … he must have fixed something...’ ‘Well it sure wasn’t the original problem. Why don’t you ring him and get him to come back? Tell him it’s still not working.’ ‘Oh what, and have to pay out more money?’ ‘Yes, exactly. It’s either that or get a new one.’ He looked at the remote clamped in his hand – his dear, sweet icon of technology. Of power. His thumb moved deliberately up and down its side as though he was savoring the feel of the plastic. It annoyed me; it was the touch of a lover, a caress that made me feel inexplicably jealous. So potent was the sensation that I tried to look away, to ignore the burning need to slap the damn thing out of his hand. But the moment seemed so intimate that I felt that I was intruding upon something. ‘Leave the damn thing alone and speak to me!’ I finally blurted. His head snapped up at my sharp tone. ‘Well … I don’t know how we’re going to afford it but alright, alright,’ he said quickly. He snatched up the newspaper and moodily flung it at a nearby magazine rack. It landed untidily just behind the yawning opening. Oh, no, he was not going to make me feel guilty. I folded my arms across my chest and ignored the discarded paper. ‘Look, I don’t think four hundred pounds once every what – thirteen, fourteen years – for something that is used every day is that unreasonable,’ I pointed out, exasperated. He removed his spectacles and regarded me with doughy eyes. ‘Well, if we’re going to spend that much money then you’ve got to go easier at the shops.’ ‘WHAT?’ ‘Come on Sheila, every time you go grocery shopping you come back with some new item of clothing. I’ve told you time and time again-’ ‘Now that is not true,’ I said, giving him a sharp look. ‘Whatever I spend on clothing comes out of my money. Anyway, you know damn well I don’t buy clothes that often. And don’t you dare try to turn this on me! This is about the television and the fact that it’s worn out. If you’re looking to blame someone then I’m sorry but the only person in this house that has it on every day is you.’ Geoff’s face pulled down in a grimace at my words. He worked his jaw up and down again as he murmured under his breath and I got the distinct feeling he was actually considering trying to deny this. Unperturbed by the sullen look and still annoyed at his unreasonable accusation, I sighed noisily and continued. ‘Come on, fair’s fair, Geoff. You are the only one in this house that watches the television during the day. When I’m doing the housework or out shopping you’re in here with Sky or the video on, watching your documentaries. Lisa’s hardly ever here and I’m only interested in the local news and a couple of other programs. You can’t blame anyone else.’ I shook my head in bewilderment, weary from the feeling of talking to a brick wall. He remained quiet, gazing at the blank screen of the television as though one of his precious documentaries was having a private showing that only he could see. I pushed myself off the sofa and absently picked up the discarded newspaper. ‘It’s just time to get a new one and that’s all there is to it.’ I folded the paper and slid it back into the rack. It struck me then just how ironic and predictable our lives really were. Geoff was always the tidy and fastidious one; he got it from his mother. But here he was throwing the paper down in a temper and knowing full well it would provoke me. A sheer, bloody-minded act that was his way of showing me that he was not happy with the decision - but this time he would consent. And what about the television? It was true: he was the only person who had it on day in, day out; if it wasn’t documentaries than it was teletext or sport or a film that he had recorded for no other reason than to fill in a couple of hours. Yet here I was trying to talk him around to buying a new one! I wouldn’t give a hoot if it weren’t for the fact that I was the one nearer the blessed thing and inevitably the one to get up and play about with the switch. Yes, predictable and ironic and sometimes … sometimes very tedious. ‘Look,’ I said turning to him. I was suddenly tired and didn’t want to argue anymore. The kitchen and today’s dinner beckoned. The ironing beckoned. My life’s chores beckoned. ‘Do what you want. The thing’s broken and I can’t be bothered with it.’ I turned to go but Geoff called me back. ‘Hang on, Sheila, wait a sec. What do we do with this one?’ He indicated the television with the remote. I shrugged. ‘You can always get them to take it when they deliver the new set,’ I offered noncommittally, ‘or we can dump it. Same end.’ ‘Ayee? You’re kidding! We can’t just dump it, there’s nothing wrong with the picture. Huh, no fear Sheila.’ I looked at him incredulously. ‘Well we can’t sell it, Geoff, that’s for sure. I don’t know – give it to someone – what are you worrying about that for, anyway? It’s hardly important.’ He was stroking the remote again, deep in thought and oblivious to my words. It occurred to me then that he was reluctant to give up this special relationship – so strong was their bond. Geoff was metaphorically giving his lover the brush off after fourteen years of a very intense affair. It obviously weighed heavy on him. That was when I had an idea: a good idea. ‘We’ll see,’ I said quietly, ‘we’ll see.’ I headed for the kitchen, for once happy to leave them alone together. Behind me I heard the gentle ‘whump’ of the television not coming on. The new television is a large, twenty-eight inch widescreen model that make’s the actors look as though they’re actually in the room, performing just for me. It had been my choice; Geoff was happy for me to go around the stores and gather prices and information as long as he had the final say in the matter. At first he was concerned that the screen might be too big for our modest lounge, but I had talked him round into the larger model. The price difference was negligible and besides, it looked impressive. And … okay, when it arrived I had to admit that it did dominate the room, but it was a major appliance that dominated a good part of our time. Geoff could not argue with that. He still found it a little too much to look at, anyway. I like nicam stereo. It kind of throws the sound – a big sound – behind and around you as though you’re sitting in a cinema. Geoff complained about that at first: it was too loud and might upset the neighbours. I told him it was our house, our t.v. and ultimately our noise, but eventually relented somewhat when his whining threatened to drown out the television. Geoff noticed that it took a little longer to come on than the old one. I had asked him if he was including the time it took to actually get it going. Yes, there were quite a few dark looks and scowls offered back and forth over the meal table for a couple of days after the Hitachi arrived. The atmosphere in our household had been decidedly chilly during the ‘settling in’ period. We were both short with each other – me probably more so than Geoff. He was just so picky though, almost to the point of childishness. It wasn’t the new television he was attacking – that was wonderful – it was the simple fact that it wasn’t the old one. And – and, it wasn’t the old remote. It was too complicated. The buttons were too small. He couldn’t see the digits. He never knew what he was pressing. He didn’t like it, no, no, no, so there! Well, I like it. It sits comfortably in my hand. In the evenings when I hear him banging on the floor upstairs to turn the nicam sound down, I know exactly what button to press. I can do it instantly. And I can flick through the channels until I find a soap or drama I enjoy in next to no time. Yes, I like my TV … my remote … love it. When I go to bed now and see Geoff sprawled out in front of the television, his beloved channel changer in his pudgy hand, why I don’t feel the least bit threatened.
Copyright © 2000 Evilderry |