My wife is always cold

We live in the mountains. It’s cold in the winter, but this year it’s colder than usual. My wife is always cold. She’ll put on three sweaters and still complain, even when all the heaters are going and the thermostat is set to 77. We’ll be in the truck, driving down the road, and it will be *sixty seven degrees* in there and she’ll still be talking about how cold she is. I’ll be trying to watch TV and she’ll be wrapped up in a blanket, wearing a wool beanie, and still talking about how cold she is. I’ll be trying to sleep and she’ll have the bed covered in blankets, she’ll be wearing a thick fleece, a beanie, and warm socks, and she’ll still be talking about how *cold* she is. I’m warm. I’m always warm. My hands are warm, my feet are warm, I never get cold. I’ll be in the yard, and it’ll be *fifteen degrees* and I’ll be in a t shirt and jeans. I won’t be cold. My wife will see me through the window and call me inside, to put a sweater on. I was out chopping firewood the other day, and a neighbor invited me over for a beer. He had a small fire in his backyard, and his wife was sitting on the far side of it. I walked up, to say hello, and when she saw me she got up and went inside. She wasn’t being unfriendly, or hostile. She just got up and went inside. And when I asked her husband why she did that, he told me that his wife couldn’t stand to be near me. “Why’s that?” “Not sure all of it, but she said that you *look* cold. Like she can see the cold emanating off you, even though you’re wearing a t shirt and it’s forty one degrees out.” Then he said, “We’ve lived next to you guys for four years. We’ve never seen you wear a coat.” I was taken aback. I *did* wear coats, didn’t I? I tried to remember the last time I had, and couldn’t. And then the neighbor said, “Buddy, I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but I’ve seen your house, with the windows open and the snow falling on the roof. Your furnace broke down two weeks ago, and you haven’t hired anybody to fix it yet. But you guys are still living there.” I looked at him, and I could tell he was scared of me. I *hadn’t* hired anybody to fix the furnace, I *wasn’t* living my life the way I was supposed to. I thought about my wife, and how she was always so cold. I thought about the first time we met. It was at the park. She was wearing a sweater, and I was wearing a t shirt. I remember her remarking on that, and I remember telling her, “I’m always warm. I don’t get cold.” That’s when it hit me. The cold. I had been so warm, and now I was so cold. Up until that point in my life, I had been an average person. I got hot, I got cold, I liked turkey, I hated asparagus, I liked Star Wars, I hated The Exorcist III. Up until that point, I was a normal person, with normal thoughts and normal feelings. Then I met her, and everything changed. I was warm, and then I was cold. I was average, and then I wasn’t. I was normal, and then everything about my life was just a little bit *off.* I thought about the furnace, and how I hadn’t hired anybody to fix it. I thought about the house, and how my wife was living there, in the cold. I thought about my wife. She was always so cold, she was never warm, she couldn’t stand to be near me because I *looked* so cold. I thought about that, as I stood in the cold yard, surrounded by cold buildings, on the cold street I’d always lived on, and it hit me. The *truth.* I don’t look cold. I *am* cold. I look *warm.* I’ve been living my entire life backwards. I’ve been showing the wrong side of myself to the world, and I’ve been living the wrong life. I caught a bus, and then a taxi, and then I walked the rest of the way. It was cold, and it was dark, and the snow was falling down around me. I didn’t feel it. I felt warm, for the first time in years. I felt like I was finally *doing* something. I felt like I was *living* something. I came through the door, and slammed it closed behind me, and I called for my wife. There was no answer. That was okay. I knew where she’d be. She’d be in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket, watching TV. That’s where I found her. She was curled up on the far end of the couch, and she was shivering, and she was crying. I walked over to her, and she looked up at me, and she screamed. I bent over, and I kissed her forehead, and she tried to push me away. I held her in place, and I blew my warm breath in her face, and she shivered. I blew some more, and she started to cry. I kept doing it, for a long time, and she kept crying. Eventually, she stopped. I kept doing it even longer, and she stopped crying, and she stopped moving. I kept doing it, until she was warm. She hasn’t been cold a single day since.

My wife is always cold

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