No no no no no no no.
The coldness in his voice after our passionate lovemaking and his tender aftercare is like a knife in my chest. Nothing has hurt more. Not my father’s rejection. Not Chris’s indifference to our marriage over the last year. But this time, instead of sorrow and pain, anger floods through my veins.
Gritting my teeth, I push myself up and off the bed. “I don’t need to be looked after. I like to work. I like to contribute. I would go crazy in the house alone all day with nothing to do.” My voice rises to a shout, and I shock myself with a fit of temper I never knew I had, all the anger I’ve bottled up over the last year coming out in a rush. “I’ve been here for you, but you didn’t see me.”
“I did see you, Lil, but I couldn’t reach out. I didn’t feel like I was enough of a man for you.”
“Is that what this is about? Your ego? That’s such BS.” I’m shaking now, my frustration needing more than just a voice. “Your dumb shame has cost my happiness. It’s cost us both happiness. It has stolen one year from our lives. You’ve been so wrapped up in yourself you’ve lost sight of the big picture. So you got laid off. Lots of people get laid off. Lots of men. Big deal. It doesn’t make me think you are any less of a man. I love you for who you are inside, not what you do. But I guess what I think doesn’t matter. Your ego is all that counts.” I yank open a drawer and pull out a T-shirt and sweater. I can’t do this anymore. I need to go.
“It is a big deal.” He pushes himself up on one elbow, his jaw taut. “I failed. You. My mother. My dad . . .”
“For a smart guy you really lack common sense.” I pull the T-shirt over my head. “Yes, your job paid well, but it sucked your soul. You’re a physical person. If you’d stayed in that job, it would have killed you. You’re happy now, but you can’t accept it. The only person you have failed is yourself.” Too frustrated to deal with the corset laces or fussy straps on the garter belt, I pull my jeans over the stockings and garter belt, realizing only as I zip the fly that I have forgotten my panties. Too damn bad. No way am I staying here a minute longer than I have to. I don’t care if the world knows I really am naughty at heart.
Chris watches me silently as I pull on my sweater, his eyes dark, jaw clenched. For some reason his silence enrages me, and I grab the fuzzy handcuffs off the bed and throw them at him.
“You’re afraid to live the life you really want to live,” I say as the cuffs thud against his unmoving chest. “You’re afraid to be who you want to be. You’ve been hiding for one year and I let you, and in the process I hurt myself. Well, I’ve had it. I’m done.”
I run down the stairs, grab my purse, and walk out into the night.