Authors note: Although this a sequel to the story "A Wife For Christmas," it is a standalone story and the reader will be able to understand the context without reading the first. This is a Valentine's day contest submission, so please vote. I also look forward to reading your comments. Thank you and I hope you enjoy reading...
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Thursday 9 February
Lisa Hamilton hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. At least she had accomplished that much, she thought. It was only five days until Valentine's Day and she had worried that she wouldn't be able to contact the people in time. The staff of the Starlight Club seemed to keep their own hours and weren't easy to get a hold of. She had been trying for the last week and a half to contact them without success, but now she finally had gotten through and the reservations were made. She hoped it was enough.
One question, she thought. That's all it took was one question and everything went downhill from there. All she had done was ask him what he wanted for Christmas. Was that such a bad thing to ask? But when she had pried the answer from him, it wasn't good, "I want my wife back," he had said. What did that mean? She was his wife and she was right there. But as he went on through his speech, she began to understand some. He wanted her to be someone she wasn't anymore. Someone she might have been a couple of decades ago, but couldn't be now. She had changed over the years. So had he.
It was just after that day in early December that things started to go wrong. He cleared off the old desk and set it up as a work place. He started bringing work home and spending every evening at that desk. At first, that was fine. He was out of her way as she went from one room to another and back again getting things done that she wanted to do. But as time went on, she began to notice a difference. It was like he had checked out of the marriage altogether and they were just two people who live in the same house and slept in the same bed. Although they did take time to have sex once in a while, it hadn't any passion.
How many times had they done that since that question had been asked? Four? Five maybe? And she had to admit that it wasn't all that hot or passionate. He initiated, she allowed him access, he played then gave her oral sex, bringing her to orgasm several times before he would finally make his way up her body to put his member inside her, set up a nice rhythm and bring her to a few more orgasms until he had to pull out and shoot his semen on her belly so that it wouldn't be leaking out of her all night into her panties. All that and she wouldn't even touch him. And reciprocate the oral componant? She had never done that. Never could. Not ever.
Strange. Now that she thought of it, sex was not one of the things that he had listed in his speech. Did that mean he felt that things were okay in the bedroom? Surely not. When had been the last time she touched him? She couldn't remember. Was that another symptom of what was wrong in their marriage?
She looked back to before the bad times and wondered if they were so good. She could see where he tried to do things to add a little heat to their relationship. Things she had ignored and taken for granted. She gulped. Could he have been.....right?
She hated to admit that thought. In her mind, she knew that no one was ever wrong all the time just as no one was ever right all the time, but she had gotten use to thinking of him as being wrong. But if no one was ever wrong all the time, why did she hate the idea that he might be....right? That had been one of his complaints, she realized. She no longer valued his opinion but thought that everything he thought, said, and done was wrong, wrong, and wrong. Could it be that he was...right about that?
She thought about that movie they watched. The original story said that the father hated his son because his mother died giving birth to him. But he had said that in this version, the boy was the oldest of two. She had disagreed and backed the film up to show him. When she found that he was right, she didn't even acknowledge it. If it had been that she was right, she would have berated him no end and made him apologize.
She thought about it and decided he was... right. She had devalued any thought he had had and voiced. She had devalued any actions he took. Their marriage wasn't what it was supposed to be and he had seen it first tried to do something about it and she had seemed not to care as long as he was out of her way. Which meant that he was right. This time, she didn't hesitate when she thought of that fact.
If he was right about that, she wondered what else might he have been right about? She got up and found a piece of paper and a pen then sat at the table to try to figure it out. She couldn't remember everything he said that day, but maybe she could think of the big ones.
There was something about food, wasn't there? Yes, he said that she should already be making it or give suggestions instead of telling him whatever he get off his duff and effing make, when she knew he couldn't cook. Yeah, well he could make a sandwich, couldn't he? And besides she didn't talk like that! She didn't use the "F" word.
She was holding herself stiff, arrogant, angry at the thought. She took note of it and her body deflated as she realized she did talk like that and mostly to her husband. Except in the bedroom. They didn't fuck , and she thought out the whole word as she formulated the thought, they had sex. She didn't even think of it as making love! That definitely needed to change! She decided the next time they did it she would think of it as fucking. Even with that, she would be adding in some of the emotion of love. She wrote on the paper "fuck better."
Back to the food part, she thought. Was he right about that? She remembered the time he tried to heat up some leftovers while she was gone. He put it in the microwave and set it for one minute. When the food was still cold, he tried two minutes. Then, although the food was steaming, he found a cold spot in the middle and tried three minutes. She had arrived home just before the food exploded. She laughed to herself. Yes, it was true he was hopeless in the kitchen and dinner was supposed to be more than just a cold sandwich. That meant that he was right again. She wrote on the paper "fix dinner."
What else? She thought. The movie thing. He had said that she should wait to go see the movie with him instead of going with Crystal and her husband leaving him in charge of babysitting. But what did it matter who she saw the thing with? She had told Billy their grandson to let him know. It wasn't her fault the now eight year old had waited an hour before doing so.
What if it had been he that went without her and she hadn't found out until an hour later? She knew she would have reamed his ass good for not telling her. And who would he have gone with? She had to concede that she saw his point. She turned back to the paper and wrote "movies are for dating husband, not daughter."
She thought that those were probably the big concerns. Two that he had mentioned and one she had added. Wait, she thought. There was the one that she thought of that started the process. She wrote down "value opinions and ideas." Now she thought she had something to start with. Looking at it she realized that she was going to have to change a lot. She would have to do things that she wasn't used to doing or had done. And she would have to spend some money. But now, she was determined to win her husband back and she was going to do it by Valentine's Day. She picked up her phone again to call Crystal to see if she would go shopping with her.
Bryce Hamilton sat at his desk working on his computer. At least to the casual passerby it would look that way. In reality, he was playing solitaire. It wasn't because he had no work to do, but if he did it, he wouldn't have anything to take home with him, For the last two months he had been doing such. At one point he was so bored with it that he even cleaned up all his files. Now he was reduced to playing games to pass the time. He looked up when he heard a small sound and found Charles Fremont standing at his desk.
"What's up, Chuck?" Bryce asked.
Charles winced at the name. "That's really getting old, Bryce." he said.
The man thought for a few seconds before responding. "Oh. You mean the upchuck joke. I wasn't thinking. I really was just meaning to ask you what was going on." Then with a grin he added, "Sorry, Charlie."
"There you go again. I'm not a tuna," Charles groaned thinking of the old Star-Kist commercials.
"Well, no one would accuse you of having good taste anyway," Bryce quipped remembering how the commercials said that they wanted tuna that tasted good not tuna with good taste.
Charles glared at him. "Do you have to do this?"
"Sometimes the jokes are all that keeps me going, man. With Lisa practically ignoring me and all that, I really need the laughs. Sometimes it feels like even the house doesn't welcome me."
"So why don't you divorce her ass? I'm sure I would have kicked her to the curb by now."
"If I did that, I'd still have all the rest of her to deal with and to tell the truth, I kinda like her ass where it is." Charles groaned. "Seriously, Charles. I don't want a divorce. Anytime that happens there's always a big fight about who gets what and in the end neither of them get anything because it all goes to the lawyers, as you well know. On top of that, there's the added expense of an apartment and when it's all over, everybody is so drained they don't know which way is up. add to that the fact that the kids then have to figure out who they're going to see on which holidays and it just isn't worth it. Lastly, and this is the big one, I still Love her."
"I bet you even got her a Valentine's Day present, didn't you?"
Yes. I did. It's a necklace shaped like a heart with diamond chips all around it."
"That's what I thought. Alright, Bryce. Whatever you want. But my advice is still the same."
"Maybe that's why you've been divorced five times, my friend."
"But I've been married six."
"That just means we know who the sixth ex Mrs. Fremont is."
"Not this time, Bryce. We're making it work."
"For now," Bryce said. "Then when it stops working, you'll be gone again."
"Nope." Charles replies. "We're both totally dedicated to making this work. We've even gotten help to do that."
"What do you mean?"
"We're seeing a marriage counselor. He helps us with issues of trust and honesty. He also helps us see things from the other's perspective."
"Well, good for you, Charlie."
"Still not a tuna, old boy."
"Speaking of tuna, do you know how to tuna fish?"
