When the microwave dinged Len got up and grabbed the steamer bag, wincing when the hot plastic burned his fingertips. Grabbing a hot pad, he brought the vegetables over to the table and gingerly cut open the bag before dumping about a third of it onto his plate. A small pool of water leached into the sauce for his steak and he felt his blood pressure rise.
How fucking incompetent am I that I can’t even make and eat a simple dinner?
He wolfed down his food and then did the dishes before getting a beer out and slumping in front of a ball game, his mood dark. Len hated being treated like a child, and sometimes that’s how Cissy made him feel, but he could admit sometimes he gave her good reason to. His mother had been a traditional stay-at-home type. She’d taken care of him and his brother until they’d gone away to college, and even then she’d done their laundry and cooked for them when they came home on breaks. Len hadn’t learned how to use a washing machine or the stove until he and Cissy had married.
His wife finally arrived home at nearly ten, and went upstairs without a word to him, which was fine since most likely all they’d do was fight. Len debated sleeping on the couch like he sometimes did when he fell asleep in front of the TV but decided the bed was as much his as it was Cissy’s. If she wanted to be pissy she could do it on her own side.
* * * * *
After a few days of stony silence on the part of his wife, Len couldn’t take it anymore. It was Friday night and he wanted to do something. He’d called a few buddies, trying to get a card game going, but everybody was busy. It was about time Cissy talked to him, and he cornered her in the bedroom.
“Wanna go out tonight?”
Her face betrayed surprise mixed with annoyance. “Where?”
“To dinner?” He figured he should start with something easy and work his way up.
“Why?”
Len sighed to himself. “Because I want to. Honey, this is ridiculous. We’re married. We live in the same house. We need to talk to each other.”
“I know,” Cissy replied. She turned away and Len heard her sniffle.
“Oh baby, come here.”
Pivoting, she slid her arms around his waist. “I’m just so tired, Len. Tired of fighting, tired of having to tell you—usually more than once—what chores need doing, what appointments you have, what errands should be run. I’m tired of feeling like your maid and your secretary. I’m your wife.”
He couldn’t help pushing her away. “You haven’t acted like much of one lately. Besides that one reward, you haven’t initiated sex in God knows how long, and when we do have sex you just kind of lie there as if you’re waiting for it to be over.”
Cissy winced and Len felt like a bastard. What he’d said was true, but he knew he wasn’t always the most tactful person on the planet.
She shook her head, her mouth pulling down into a frown. “Did it ever occur to you I’d be more interested in sex if you bothered to learn what I like?” She pulled on a t-shirt and said, “I don’t really want to talk about this.”
“Oh no,” Len answered. “You can’t throw something like that out there and then clam up.”
She sighed and sank onto the side of the bed. “Do you pay attention when we’re having sex? I know that sounds harsh, but do you? Because if you did, you should’ve noticed I haven’t climaxed from penetration in years.”
“But you always look like you’re having a good time.”
Len knew going on the defensive wasn’t a good idea, but his very manhood, his virility was being attacked.
“Sure, sex feels good, but it’s not enough to make me have an orgasm on its own.”
“Then what the hell—” He caught himself and started again. “What the heck do you want?” Len felt stupid that he had no idea, but it wasn’t all his fault. Communication, as they said in those stupid corporate rah-rah speeches, was a two-way street.
“Well, there was a reason I bought those sex toys. I thought they might help both of us have more fun. You ignored them.”
“So you want to tie me up again?”
“Not necessarily. But the fact you completely disregarded it when I did make an effort to show you what I wanted made me feel like you didn’t care. It’s hard to feel sexy and aroused when your husband is more interested in his pleasure than making sure you have yours.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to use them?”
“I suppose maybe I should have, but I felt like if they were sitting there next to us on the bed you should have been able to surmise I want to use them.”
“I’m not a mind reader.”