“I don’t want to be controlled!”
Her voice remained quiet, but the color was high in her cheeks. “I’ve tried a million times to ask you to do more around the house, to cajole you, even to nag you. None of it worked, so I took more drastic measures. And it’s not just about the housework. That’s what I started with because it seemed like the easiest thing to fix.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She gestured toward him. “This. I’m talking about this. The swearing. The disrespect. Did you ever notice that when we have sex—on your timeframe, I might add, not mine—I hardly ever come? I give you a blowjob almost every time, but you almost never go down on me. Then when you get ready to go, you rut on me like a bull on a cow. Have you even noticed I haven’t had an orgasm during sex in years?”
Len was stunned into silence even as his mouth hung open.
Cissy wasn’t done. Her tone turned vicious and he felt about two inches tall. “The look on your face tells me everything I need to know. So yes, I tried to control you. I did it to save our marriage. I can’t go on like this. I feel like I’m down around number five or six on your priority list.” Her hand slashed the air when he tried to speak. “I thought maybe if we started with something that was easily fixable we could move on to the harder stuff. But right now I’m tired and I’m going to bed. I have to work tomorrow. If you think you’re going to puke you’d better get a pan to put by the bed.”
She rushed past him and up the stairs before he could unlock his jaw. Was it really as bad as Cissy said? Was their marriage in trouble? He’d always taken it for granted Cissy would be with him forever. She was one of the only women he’d ever dated, and the only one he’d ever wanted to stay with.
Len actually smacked himself upside the head. Then, as the realization of exactly how much he’d had to drink dawned on him, he swayed. Yeah, he’d taken her for granted, all right. What had he been thinking? Through his own fucking stupidity he was throwing away the best thing that had ever happened to him. He guessed he’d figured she’d always be there, no matter what.
He followed Cissy up the stairs slowly, his tread heavy. Len was exhausted, but surprisingly sober. Hearing Cissy go off on him had shaken off the alcohol buzz pretty quickly. She was already in bed, her back turned to him. When he came around the end of the bed and spotted the tears tracking down her face, he sobered even more.
Dropping to his knees, he crooned, “Cissy, baby.” Len gently pushed her hair out of her face. “Don’t cry. I’m an ass. Or, well, a jerk.” She sniffled but didn’t contradict him. “We’ll work this out. Don’t give up on me. Can you take tomorrow off?”
She nodded and he leaned forward to kiss her head. Cissy grabbed the back of his neck and held his lips to hers. “I love you,” she choked out.
“Oh honey, I love you too. And I’m so sorry. We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Pulling the thin coverlet up, he tucked it around her. ”Get some sleep. We’ll call in sick in the morning and then talk as long as we need to, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Satisfied the crisis was at least temporarily averted, Len went into the bathroom, exiting a few moments later and climbing into bed next to his wife. He had to fix this. He had to. Life without Cissy was just too horrible to contemplate.
* * * * *
Cissy lay awake for a long time, listening to Len’s slow, even breathing. No doubt the alcohol was helping him sleep. She had no such luck. Could she believe Len was sorry and wanted to fix things? It felt as if their entire marriage predicated on what happened in the morning.
When that morning came, Cissy gave up on sleep and rose, padding into the bathroom to shower. That task completed, she stepped into the bedroom to get dressed and call in sick to work, expecting to see Len still sound asleep, but the bed was empty. Turning toward the door, she sniffed. Coffee and something else. Was Len making breakfast? The mind boggled.
Throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, Cissy then walked downstairs, not sure what she’d find. She nearly fell over when she took in Len with an apron over his bare chest and a pair of shorts, turning eggs in a pan. Cissy couldn’t remember the last time he’d made breakfast. Had he ever made breakfast?
“Hey. Did you call in yet?”
“N-no. I’ll go right now.”
“Don’t take too long. I’ve got bacon too and the eggs are almost ready.”
Who are you and what have you done with my husband? And when did you learn how to cook breakfast?
“I’ll hurry.” In a daze she walked out of the kitchen. She couldn’t get over it. Len had made breakfast. Of his own volition.