After graduating from the University of the West Indies, with a degree in Electrical Engineering, George felt very good about himself and his prospects. He felt as though he had been knighted with some great gift; in fact, he had the paper and the student loans to prove it. In his wondrous mind, anybody who saw him should recognize, from his manner and gait, that he was a Sir of Noble Ability; he was a degreed engineer. And since they recognized that, they should be aware of his intelligence. He felt he could tackle any problem big or small. Nothing was out of his limits or depth; and if it was, all he had too was pick up a book, read it, learn about it and apply his newfound knowledge; he was voracious reader. What challenge was there really left for him? Not much, except for his wife, Lisa.
It sadly dawned on George no book was written to explain his wife. In fact, there was no particular book written on his particular wife. He wished one was written just about her, exclusively about her. The title of that book would be “Your Wife Lisa” written by God. In truth, George felt only God could write such a book because only he could explain one of his (maddening, crazy, illogical, irrational) creations. If God had written that book, every question George had would be answered succinctly, assuredly and with clarity: Why is she like that? Answered. Why is she so crazy? Answered. When will the madness end? Answered. What the hell is she talking about? Answered. There was no such book and there never will be and this saddened George.
Whenever he looked at his wife, he would often see a massive question mark hanging over her head following her everywhere she went. In the beginning, the question mark was not that big at all, it was a small, unnoticeable, odd-shaped mark mixed in with a tuff of her beautiful black hair. After getting married, the question mark seemed to grow in size exponentially like mold. As unfortunate as that might be, the question mark did not deter George from his wife, it only emboldened him; he did have an engineering degree. He knew how to tackle a problem; it was what engineering was about: the ability to analyze a situation and create an ingenuous solution. But his wife was not an engineering problem, she was a human problem. He knew he should have studied medicine instead of engineering.
It was strange though, that at times his degree served no importance when it should. For instance, George had the opportunity to do some housework, which was more than suitable for his learned skill. He had to change an air condition control panel in the house. The task was well suited to him, even if it is minor compared to the knowledge he had as an engineer. He relished the opportunity though, for he had just bought the house and he took pride in tending to it.
Before he could even start the task, Lisa bellowed, “you sure you know what you doing?” Concern or apprehension, he could not tell, but since she prefixed anything he did with those sort of questions, he concluded it was apprehension. He started on his task nonetheless without answering her. He just took a quick look at her and saw the question mark sturdy as ever on top her head. She did have a right to ask the inhibiting question because he had never replaced an AC control panel before. It did require some reading, and that he knew he was good at. He read and read. And, in that quiet time needed to understand, Lisa chimed in, “What takin’ so long? Yuh sure you know what you doing?” Her question was not much of a question; it was indictment. Silence it seems was an indication of inability. He never knew how to correct that misconception.
From reading the manual, he understood what needed to be done. He started correctly. He turned off all the power to the air condition unit; he did not want to shock himself, but after that he heard from his loving wife, Lisa: “Becareful not to shock yourself.” It would seem he was shock prone, but in all the time he and Lisa had been together, he had never felt the surge of current coursing through his body. His only shock was that he could no longer do anything without Lisa’s interjection, but he prodded on. Then, he came upon a problem; he needed a different tool; the screwdriver was not the right size.
To retrieve the correct tool, he had to pass by his wife who was now in the kitchen. When she saw him pass in a hurry, she could only guess one thing, something was wrong.
“Wha happen now?”
He said he needed a different screwdriver.
She responded, “You see why ah does ask all dem question, but you only want to look at meh like ah botherin’ yuh.” She was bothering him.
Informing Lisa of the technical delay really was not smart. It only created the opportunity for self promotion, that is she promoted herself from wife to job foreman. After retrieving the new screwdriver, she returned with him to the AC panel to make sure that nothing else went wrong. She thought the installation of a control panel was a simple enough requiring no time at all.
George, on the other hand, was perplexed. He had to mentally check Lisa’s skill set. He knew she did not have a degree in electrical engineering or any other degree; she did not have an electrician’s certificate; and she never apprenticed with an electrician or even watched her father do some electric work in his home. As Lisa had said many times to him, “Me, I was jus’ in tuh girly stuff.”
So now, he could not understand what level of supervision his wife could offer. The question mark on her head seemed to grow larger and shine brighter. He would not need any other light for the job; the question mark offered enough luminescence.
“Yuh sure you suppose to put that wire dere.”
George had had enough.
“Who have de engineering degree you or me?”
“What that suppose to mean?”
If she did not know, then George could not tell her, the question was simple enough. In the middle of his wife’s conundrum, he finally understood.
George thought his education could serve some meaningful utility in the house, in the marriage, but it really was not. It was odd. Lisa had often told him his degree was a plus for her, but really it was an accessory. Lisa had diamond earrings, a wedding band and a husband with an engineering degree—all accessories. Now, his learned skill countered for naught. It was not that she was as smart as him; George was only as smart as Lisa, and now anything he attempted, his limits were her limits. What was George to do? Nothing. It was why he was looking for the book “Your Wife Lisa.”
George would have other tribulations with his precious wife, some more or less than the one before. The question mark would just stare at him ominous and confrontational. He would look at it as an enemy; and Lisa would look at him and ask, “Why yuh lookin’ at me like dat.”
“Nothing,” he would answer.
