My Husband's Recliner is Trying to Turn Me into a Stepford Wife

Skye has this leather chair. I never liked it from the beginning. It was a graduation present for Skye from his mom. She called it a graduation present. I wondered why she named it that when the words came out of her mouth. Hollow at the end, the way it is when both of you know that that isn’t really the right answer but it’s the one that came out to spare anyone hurt feelings, not that there would have been any. She didn’t want to call it what it really was.

The truth is, he hadn’t just graduated. He had just graduated, got married, started a career, became a father, a homeowner. The man of the house. It was not my mother-in-law’s conscious intent for the recliner to be a symbol, to remind us daily to obey traditional Ward and June roles, the way the cross is to remind people what they believe, but it had an equally powerful effect. When Skye was at work I would polish the chair. Bring it a cigar and the paper, and sit next to it when James, who was probably two, so, twelve years ago, took his afternoon nap.

The stager came through the house and pointed out pockets that work and don’t work. It’s possible that my overuse of the “word” HGTV, as I followed her around the house, agreeing with her, was getting on her nerves. She barely let on if it did.

When she descended the basement stairs and entered the mancave, she pointed immediately to the brown leather chair and said, “That needs to go.” She said as if the task was as simple as slicing off the crust on a sandwich.

I told Skye the list of recommendations when he came home from work. We hauled the chair up the stairs as if it were a dead deer about to be thrown on a heap of carcasses. Skye had it by the shoulders. I wrapped one hand around the ankle of the footrest and pulled it up behind me. Strangely, it was as easy as slicing the crust off a sandwich. The stager is a genius. I feel like she really knows me.

The rejected chair looked odd next to the pile for the yard sale – board games, a small boys bike, father and son golf clubs, and a variety of sports equipment for sports that didn’t take with either son – soccer, baseball, basketball.

We were exhausted one day after cleaning out our neglected basement storage and carrying boxes up stairs. We grabbed two glasses with ice and split a coke in the garage. We sipped our cokes and randomly mentioned additions to our to-do lists.

Skye pulled a lawn chair down from a hook on the wall. He shook it open with one hand and sat down.

I plopped down in the brown leather chair across from him. It was soft and cool and comfortable.

I admired the chair out loud.

Skye looked hopeful.

“This is right where I’m going to sit during the yard sale,” I said, and looked around at everything I hoped to get rid of.

It’s really hard to put a price on Skye’s recliner. It was very expensive. So expensive Skye still remembers the amount. If he were to put a tag on it, it would be the most expensive yard sale chair in the history of yard sales. I was thinking $25. To pay someone to haul it away.

It’s funny how suddenly I have a positive attitude about the chair now that we’ve agreed to play along like it’s going.

This morning I woke up and made Skye coffee, fried eggs and toast before he went to work. I never used to do that. It’s that chair! It’s moving me around the house like a chess piece!

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