Page 32 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

CHAPTER NINE

Marriage is a horror movie.

No one gets out alive except the virgin.

And we all know there are no virgins after the wedding night.

Only bunny boilers.

NOX

Tossing my keys at the counter, I open the freezer to take out one of the containers Lou usually drops off while I’m working. No matter how many times I tell my sister that it isn’t necessary she continues to do it. “It’s leftovers,” she says, or, “You know I’ll just have to throw it out.” It’s her way of helping out and making sure I eat. Can’t argue it. Not when I barely have time to scratch my balls.

Worked my ass off today. Can’t get ahead no matter how hard I try. Now I’m distracted. Tried not to think about Beck. Couldn’t manage it. Dean called me out on it. I was whistling or some such shit. An old Stone Temple Pilots song. Apparently I haven’t done that in years if he’s to be believed.

I reach into the full freezer and pull out a tub of ice cream. Fat free? What the hell? Fat free yogurt. Low carb sugar free cheesecake. Like that even makes sense. Vodka. I shut the door. What’s Lou trying to do to me? My stomach grumbles hollowly.

I’ll feed Hollander and go see Beck. It’s my turn to take care of her. I’ll take her out for dinner. We can talk about Sophie or whatever she wants. Or us. Tried to tell myself it was only about the money, but I want more. Want to make the most of the time that she’s here. Want to take her to bed again. Want to find out what makes her tick.

“Hollander, dinner time,” I call out as I open the fridge. Where’s my beer? Hollander’s food? Why is there tofu on my top shelf? Cottage cheese. And what the hell is this? I pick up the small tub in the door. Eye cream. What the fuck?Who keeps stuff they use on their face in with food? This shit’s not edible. The door slips from my hand and rattles closed. And where’s my cat? He’s always about my feet the minute I walk in the door.

I turn around and actually look at my cabin. There’s a potted fern on the side table without anything under it. A pool of dirty water is already staining the tabletop. There are magazines and books and coffee mugs on every surface of my living room. Crossing the space, I pick up the fern and bring it back to the kitchen. Sit it in the sink.

I need a minute to come to grips with what I’m seeing. I stride into the bathroom. Turn the water on. Splash my face. Glance at the mirror. A woman has moved in with me. Beck, it has to be Beck.Oh, she has to be kidding.

Opening the medicine cabinet, I gape at the boxes of tampons and panty liners. Stare at the tubes of hair removal cream and hemorrhoidointment. Picking up a box, I turn it over. Birth control. At least that’s something to be grateful for. A pink towel hangs over mine on the rail. Another, sopping wet, is scrunched up on the floor. My shower has been invaded by three million different bottles in a rainbow of hues, and a pink shower cap with hearts all over it.

“Beck?” My wife has moved into my house and taken over... Didn’t foresee this. Didn’t expect her to make this type of move with her almost allergic reaction to my refusal to end our marriage. Figured I’d end up at the hotel with her for the next three months, and that we would co-exist in a temporary way with plenty of space. And after last night, I expected she’d have her guard up even higher than it was before, though I planned on tearing it down again and again. I clear my throat as I walk from the bathroom to the bedroom. “Beck, we’re going to have a conversation...”

Beck’s on my bed. Fast asleep, curled up on her side. Her dress has ridden up her thighs, exposing golden skin and a few light bruises from where my hands were on her last night. One arm is under her head. The other is thrown over Hollander. My big, fat feline lifts his furry head and yawns before settling it on his paws again. He couldn’t care less that I’m home, snuggled up in her arms. Damn traitor.

Lena hated Hollander. She turned her nose up and said she was allergic. She wasn’t though. Used to chuckle at the fact that he’d take every opportunity to get close to her, like he knew doing so would aggravate her. Became so bad that I had to keep him at Lou’s. Damn cats are smarter than people sometimes.

This is different though. Unexpected. Hollander’s like a dog. Loyal to one person. He never behaved like this with Lena. Never curled up like he is with Beck. Can’t help but smile. Her moving in and turning my place upside down isn’t that bad. Three months with her under my roof isn’t that different from spending the time in a hotel suite. I back out of the room, pulling the door closed. Let her sleep. We can talk later.

Juice swollen oranges litter the ground, split open and spilling their guts onto the hard earth. The pervasive scent of spoiled fruit lingers under the aroma of the trees. Everyone’s busy. Too busy. There’s not enough time. Not enough money either. Sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades and I prop the rake against a tree while I take off my shirt and stuff it in my back pocket.

These trees. Biggest mistake of my life. Lena wanted them. Had to have them. I pick up the rake and go back to piling up the spoiled fruit. Gave her everything she could ever want and look where it landed me. Fucking oranges.

“Is this why you always smell like oranges?”

I turn around at the sound of her voice. Beck stands under one of the trees, her back against the trunk. She’s wearing a tank top and denim shorts; the kind that have the pockets hanging out from the legs and make no sense. On her they look cute. “Could be.”

“I thought you didn’t like them.” She glances up at the fat balls above her head. “You cuss every time someone mentions them.”

“They’re a nuisance.”

“They’re fruit.” She wrinkles her nose.

“They’re beginning to rot. The ones that have fallen off the trees.”

“Oh.” She steps out from under the tree. Her gaze flicks to my chest and then settles on my face. “That’s why it smells different.”

I go back to raking. Almost done now. Not much light left anyway. The sun is being eaten up by the horizon. “You moved in.”

“You noticed.”

How could I not when it looked like a tornado went through my house? Not going to tell her that. Not yet at least. Don’t want her to leave. The fact that she’s here and talking to me is more than I hoped for after last night. “That I can’t feed Hollander, and that there was an angel in my bed. I noticed.”

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