“Not in the mood again?” Mark said, stepping into his bedroom. His blonde wife looked up at him over the edge of her fashion magazine and shrugged, the shoulders of her plaid pajama top rising and falling. With a sigh, he stripped down his dark jeans and tossed them into the laundry basket. Turning away from the bed, he pulled open a drawer of the dresser.
“I love you, Sally,” he said, lifting a matching pair of pajama pants from the drawer. He continued as he dressed for a night’s rest, “You’re the only woman I could love.”
“I’m not in the mood, dear,” she said, her gaze returned to the magazine. I think I know why, Mark thought.
“I understand,” he said, closing the drawer. “I’ve never pushed you for sex in all the years we’ve been married.”
“Is something wrong?” Sally frowned. “Were you fired from work?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I saw something today that disturbed me. It excited me, but disturbed me.”
“Well?” she arched a thin blonde eyebrow. “What’s bothering you?”
“I’ve never lied to you, have I?” Mark asked. “I told you about everything I’ve done before I even asked to marry you, even the whores and girlfriends I had been with.”
“Just tell me,” his wife sighed, dog-earing her magazine and setting it aside on the nightstand. “I’d rather you tell me than let you continue building this up to some anti-climatic conclusion as you usually do.”
“Are you sure?” he said, biting his lip.
“Yes,” Sally nodded, crossing her arms. “Tell me, please.”
Mark took a deep, steadying breath and said, “I saw you today.”
“What? At the supermarket?” the blonde woman snorted. “Have you started to follow me? I’m your wife, Mark. You’re supposed to trust me.”
“I always have,” her husband said. “And no, I didn’t follow you today. I was working in the backyard, preparing for the shed, and I saw you… with Monica.”
“How dare you!” Sally said harshly, her eyes flaring. “How can you accuse me of, of such a thing? And how could you, when you shouldn’t have been home!”
“Rick and I finished quicker than we expected,” he explained. “I called and left a message when you didn’t answer. I figured you were out somewhere, so I came home.”
“Why didn’t you stay at Rick’s?” she glared. “You two always seem to get drunk together.”
“I tried,” Mark sighed. “But Rick and Lauren wanted some time alone. They wouldn’t kick me out, but I knew I had to leave.”
“I guess that seems plausible,” Sally sniffed.
“You could call them,” he said, glancing at the clock. “Their couple's bridge night has barely started.”
“And have Lauren snippy with me for the next several weeks? No thanks,” she shook her blonde head. “Besides that doesn’t stop you from spying on me!”
“Would you rather I had interrupted Monica and you?” Mark said softly. “Would you rather I were some possessive bastard? You two appeared to be enjoying each other’s company and I wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship with her. And as I said earlier, I enjoyed watching.”
“So we have issues,” Sally frowned. “What of it?”
“Why couldn’t you tell me?” he asked. “I’m hurt that you couldn’t trust me and tell me the truth.” |