Can I have some coffee now?

“Can I have some coffee now?”
It was past 9:00 PM on a Sunday when I asked my husband this, as he was playing with our son in the living room.

While walking on eggshells around my emotionally abusive husband
“Would you mind if a person like me enjoyed a luxury item like coffee?”
Rest assured, that is not how I asked for permission.

I had realized something.
We had spent the entire weekend caring for our son, who had caught a terrible head cold right around Friday night, as if he were aiming for my days off.
I hadn't even had time to drink a single cup of coffee until this time on Sunday.

My son was in a good mood, flirting with my husband while watching the movie “SING”.
I sat alone on the sofa, watching the two of them.
Wait, isn't now the perfect time to have some coffee?

That led to the aforementioned statement.
“Can I have some coffee now?”

To translate that accurately,

“I want to relax with a hot cup of coffee, so could you keep our son occupied while I do? I'm going to drink piping hot coffee from my favorite expensive cup, so please keep him away from me.”
That is what it meant.

My husband replied, “Sure,” in a light tone.

Well, I poured my favorite coffee into my Royal Copenhagen cup, returned to the room, and sat down on the sofa.
I took a sip of the piping hot coffee and placed the cup on the side table.

Oh right, I hadn't eaten the Harada rusks (Gateau Festa Harada) that my mother-in-law had bought me as a souvenir yet!
That was the moment I was excitedly thinking about the rusks.

My son reached out to the low table and knocked over the glass that was filled to the brim with barley tea.
From the moment his hand reached for the table to the moment he spilled the tea, it all looked like slow motion to me.


“I told you!! I told you to be careful with the glass on the low table! I told you so many times!!”

To make matters worse, there was a futon spread out under the low table that day, which we don't usually have there.
The barley tea was being rapidly absorbed into the futon.
“Aaaaaahhh!!”
I screamed.

The light suddenly vanished from the eyes of my husband, who had been smiling and playing with our son just a moment ago.
—Power off, switching to auxiliary power—
—Mode switch—Defense—

At this moment, my husband became an inorganic husband-type robot.
This is one of the self-defense methods he devised because he is terrible at dealing with anger directed at him by people (or rather, by me).

“No matter how much you blame me, it's ineffective against me. I'm a robot, you see.”

His inorganic eyes were telling me that.

Turning his back on me, he began to pick up the ice cubes scattered on the floor.
He would pick one up and drop it—clink—into the empty glass.
After listening to the sound of the clink, he would reach for the next piece of ice.

Clink...
Clatter...

Too slow!! Your movements are overwhelmingly slow!!
Don't you have a high-speed mode installed!?
Pick them up in two seconds!!
After picking them up in two seconds, run and get a towel!

His movements were so sluggish that I suspected he was doing it on purpose, and my anger continued to rise.

Fearing that my son, now free from my husband's grasp, would come toward me, I picked up the coffee cup I had placed on the side table and stood on the sofa to escape him.

The coffee, having only had one sip, was still piping hot and steaming.
Because this cup prevented me from moving nimbly, I had no choice but to leave everything to my husband.

“Hurry! Bring me a towel!! Hurry up!”
Even while I was saying this, the futon was soaking up more and more barley tea.
My husband stood up slowly... very slowly... as I panicked.
This husband-type robot is so annoying... I cursed inwardly.

I mean, I'm already over the fact that my son spilled the barley tea.
If you let a small child play in a cramped room, accidents like that are bound to happen.

But at least, please show some sign of panic!!
Even if it's a lie, please panic with me.
Please match my intensity, I'm begging you...

This mode, which specializes in defense, only ends up raising my anger levels.

It was about an hour later that my husband turned off his defense mode and returned from being a husband-type robot to just my husband.