A distraught husband tries to recount a night filled with betrayal, anger, and retaliation.
He sat back in the recliner trying to recall how things had escalated so quickly. One moment everything was hunky dory, and the next he’d lost his head. He closed his eyes that burned from a sleepless night. He swished them back and forth beneath his eyelids a bit, thinking that somehow doing so would help him recount what had happened only a few short hours before.
He sat up suddenly. It had all come rushing back to him like a firm punch in the center of his chest. He ran to his study, sat down in front of the computer, and began to write as images of last night flit across the walls of his mind like a silent movie.
It began after dinner. She had just finished washing the dishes. he walked into the kitchen just as she was putting the leftovers into the fridge. She turned around and let out a surprised yelp.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. She laughed at her own foolishness. She could be so jumpy at times. He kissed her neck. She wasn’t in the mood and he picked up on this from her body language. He pulled, away having been rejected once again. She never wanted him anymore. Not since the miscarriage. She hardly liked to be touched, if at all.
“Something happened,” she said. Her back was turned, and she braced herself against the kitchen counter. He could always tell when she was about to deliver bad news because she couldn’t look at him when she did it.
“What is it?” There was an extended silence after he said it. The kind of silence that makes you want to vomit in your mouth and leaves a bitter taste on your tongue long after you’ve swallowed it back down.