“That’s nice dear, get me one as well won’t you? And a large diet Coke please.”
“No, baby… a Macintosh. For our little Jake. I saw the most fantastic Black Friday ad–”
“Over my dead body.”
“Oh, come on John, what’s so bad about Apple?”
“Dead… Body,” I repeated, slowly.
“John, answer my question. What does it matter whether our son grows up on PC or Mac? They both do the same things.”
“Dead bodies lalalala…” I picked up the TV remote and changed the channel to some loud and obnoxious 80s rock ‘n roll music video.
“Oh and I’m filing for divorce. Have a nice life.” She picked up her car keys and left, slamming the front door on the way out.
And then it struck, like a comet at the Apocalypse. The finality of her words tore through the thick atmospheric shield of my rational consciousness and embedded itself deeply into the core of my subconscious – becoming another of those innermost realizations you can’t suppress, because there is nothing sub-it to suppress to.