Big Mouth

They say there is a fine line between the emotions of love and hate. Supposedly it's even documented that a person can swing back and forth and at times experience both emotions at the exact same time. Up until six months ago I would have said that was impossible, but no longer.

Right now there is a damn war going on in my head. I'm going from loving to hating and back again to loving the same person, furthermore, I don't have a clue which one is finally going to win out. I only know that it's going to have to end soon because I can't take much more of this. I want to feel normal again. I want to wake up from this nightmare, go to work, come home to my family, and live like most normal families live. However, no matter which way it ends up, those days are over. I just need to decide how much fight I have left in me.

Well, one way or another Thursday is decision day and I'm looking forward to it. I may end up with some resemblance of my past life, and for once I might get a good night's sleep, I hope so anyway.

********************

Since I'd drawn the short straw I was delegated to grab the next bucket of long necks from the refrigerator in the kitchen. It was about nine minutes until halftime and the college we'd all attended was up three points after being behind most of the first half. They were in scoring position on the thirty-two yard line and no one wanted to leave the television. So, it was decided that the short straw would fetch the next round of adult beverages and snacks. You can't very well watch the big game without a brew in your hand, can you? Well, certainly not this hard-core alumni group.

It was our monthly Saturday get together and everyone was having the usual good time. With Keith's new fifty-two inch 3-D flat screen with surround sound, it was almost like being there. In truth, probably better because of all the amenities and conveniences were here in his house, without having to deal with the crowds. It was Keith and Rhonda's turn to host our little football party and they had gone all out. The only problem was the snacks that were piled high on the dining room table were all the things I wasn't allowed to eat while on the diet my wife had put me on.

"A few barbeque chicken wings won't kill me," I thought as I grabbed a couple when I saw no one was around, along with two jalapeño poppers that were filled with cheddar cheese. "Hell, it was the weekend and after eating salads and skinless chicken breasts all week, I deserve this," I told myself. I re-filled the munchies platter for the guys before heading for the kitchen.

All us guys had basically grown up together. We went to the same high school, college, and Keith and I even got the chance to play football there our freshman year. That was before realizing we just weren't good enough, not to mention the exorbitant amount of time it took to be even on the taxi squad.

Somehow after graduation, we all ended up living within a five-mile radius of one another. Now, years later we're all married and still as close as we ever were.

Roger and his wife, Beth, have one kid; David and Sue just had their second and last as Sue put it, and Keith and Rhonda topped our group with three. Heather and I have two, Robert, six years old and Amy, four. We just celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary a couple of weeks ago. Dinner, drinks, and a little love making while the in-laws took care of the kids made it that much more memorable of a night.

I was almost to the kitchen when I heard the laugh. It was loud and high pitched. I knew without question whose it was. My wife's laugh came from her toes and could usually be heard two rooms away. Even with the game blasting in the living room, I'm sure the other guys even heard it.

Our wives always seemed to congregate in the kitchen, drinking wine, gossiping, and no doubt comparing notes. I put the last popper in my mouth before quietly sneaking closer to the doorway to hear what was so funny.

"He can't be that bad," Sue said with a laugh, looking at my wife.

"Honey, I didn't say he was bad, not anymore anyways. Hell, it took me the first five years to show him where it was and to properly train him on what to do with it. So if it's anyone's fault it's mine." They all got a big kick out of that one; everyone that is except me.

"Heather, you've got two kids, he must be doing something right," Rhonda followed up with.

"Girls, he was just in the right place at the right time." They all laughed again at my expense while Beth refilled their wine glasses.

"Look, Steve's a wonderful father and a loyal husband, but as a lover he's just barely adequate."

"Well, Roger may be a little shy and quiet around most people, but he's an animal in bed," Beth added, blushing. "I just wish he was you know, just a bit bigger, that's all," she said, showing how long she would like him to be with her hands. All the other wives told her they wished their husbands were that long too.

"I've got a little something in my night table that could take care of that problem for you," my darling wife piped up. "It's about ten inches long, silver, and hums like a motherfucker. When I'm really horny and no one is around, I get Brian out and have the most mind blowing orgasms you can imagine." Heather was sipping on her wine and fanning herself with a napkin. "You know what they say, no one can love you better than yourself."

"Brian?" Rhonda asked with a puzzled look on her face. "You named your vibrator Brian?"

"An ex-boyfriend, but by far the best lover I ever had. He was hung and knew just what buttons to push, boy did he ever. He could almost get me off by just looking at me. Damn, that guy sure knew how to please a woman."

By this time I was beyond angry. These were our best friends in the world and here's my loving wife telling them I'm not worth a damn in the sack among other things.

"Now, if Steve and I are getting it on, and he's not doing it for me, I think about my times with Brian and then even he can't fuck it up."

"God damn, how much worse could it get?" I thought, hearing all those snide comments she was making about our love life.

"Maybe I'll have to get a Brian of my own," Sue said laughing, that is until she and everyone else saw me standing in the doorway. The mood in the room drastically changed at that point.

Heather turned around to see what everyone was looking at and saw me.

"Hi honey, is there something I can get for you?" She said sweetly in her typical southern twang, smiling at me.

I think if I had a gun I would have shot her dead right where she stood and gone to jail a happy man. Thankfully for her I didn't own one.

"Don't come home. Go to one of your sisters, your parents, or to fucking hell for all I care. But, under no circumstances come home, if you know what's good for you." With that I turned around and headed towards the living room and front door.

I heard my name shouted out a couple of times while making my way through the house. Everyone from the kitchen caught up to me just as I hit the living room where all the guys were cheering about something. I didn't have anything to cheer about.

"Hey man, where's the beer?" David asked when I came back empty handed.

"Roger, I need you to move your car so I can get mine out." I said, trying my best to control my temper.

"Just a second, they're going for a two point conversion," he replied, glued to the television still watching the game.

"Roger, if you don't move your fucking car now, I'm going to push it into the damn street." The look I gave him told him I was serious.

"Jesus Christ, Steve, give me a second, will you?" he said, going for his jacket that held his car keys.

"Honey, will you just settle down, it was just a joke," Heather said frantically, grabbing my left arm. She didn't expect what came next.

I swung around and pushed her back with my right hand. Heather staggered back two steps before falling flat on her ass.

"Don't you ever fucking touch me again, do you hear me?" I screamed out, knowing my face must have turned ten shades of red. I'd lost total control of my emotions, but who would have blamed me?

I left a room full of shocked people and headed for my car with Roger in hot pursuit. I guess in my frame of mind, he didn't want to take any chances of me damaging his hot new red Lexus.

Everyone was on the front lawn watching as I pulled out, heading for home, which was only about three quarters of a mile away in the next subdivision.

I was so angry I was shaking, sweating buckets, and calling Heather every ugly name I could think of. These weren't just some casual acquaintances. I'd known most of these people for almost twenty damn years. What was she thinking?

Here was the supposed love of my life stabbing me in the fucking back, telling them what a horseshit lover I am and how fucking great Brian had been. If Brian was so fucking great why didn't she marry him? That's right, Brian was a fucking loser who treated her like shit, but I guess not inside the bedroom. I never liked him and now I had another reason to hate his guts.

For once I wished we lived a little further away. Driving, like running, always seemed to calm me down, though right now I don't think even a marathon would have quenched the anger I was feeling.

For once, walking into an empty house was a welcome relief because I sure as hell didn't want to talk to anyone. My brain still felt fried, and I needed to try and somehow get control and calm down. Pacing back and forth through the kitchen and living room, the first beer went down in just three long gulps and the second only lasted a few seconds longer. I looked at the third and last one in the refrigerator, debating whether or not to open it. Then I remembered the comment Heather made about Brian—I opened it.

My cell rang nonstop until I finally turned it off. When Heather couldn't get me on my cell, she started in on the house phone. I let the answering machine pick up the first couple of messages.

"Steve, it was a damn joke! Come back and pick me up so we can talk." The phone and the answering machine both hit the kitchen wall about the same time.

A fucking joke? It sure as hell was, but the joke was on me. We'd just celebrated nine years, and I would have staked my life on the fact that I'd rung every bell she had that night. Guess I didn't, or was she thinking about Brian again? I got even more pissed if that was at all possible. Beer number three bit the dust.

With the previous two I'd consumed before this nightmare began, I had reached my limit, anymore and I'd be in uncharted territory. I wasn't much of a drinker or hadn't been for the last ten years, Heather saw to that. She said I was a stupid drunk, and if I was with her she wasn't going to put up with it. So, five had been my daily limit, that is until tonight.

With a tall rum and diet Coke, no leaded soft drinks in our house since the start of my diet, I went upstairs to our bedroom to look for 'BRIAN'.

It looked like Brian had brought his dad and Uncle Leroy with him, because what I found was not one but three toys in her night table's bottom drawer, a silver, a red, and a black one. Shocked doesn't even describe what I was looking at. They ranged in size from large, to extra large, to holy shit how did she get that black motherfucker in there. Underneath I found an assortment of lubricants one of which was even citrus flavored. It looks like there was a whole other world going on under our roof when I wasn't around. Now I wished I was a lot drunker.

I was going to stomp them all into oblivion. Instead, I gathered up all her friends and whatever else was in that drawer. I opened up our front door, lined them all up nicely on our front step for the entire world to see, then shut and locked the door. I knew she wouldn't miss me tonight, I wasn't so sure about Brian and his buddies.

In the hour and a half I'd been home I'd managed to destroy our home phone and answering machine, safety chained all the doors, disconnected the garage door opener, gotten myself the start of a decent buzz, not to mention evicting her intimate group of friends from the house. Not bad for ninety minutes of work. Then my brain heard the doorbell ring over and over, followed by someone banging on our front door.

"Steve, please, open the door," I heard Heather pleading through the door. Looking out the living room window, I saw her on the front step. Beth and Roger were sitting in his car on the driveway. I opened the door but kept the safety chain on.

"Heather, what the hell do you want? I thought I made myself perfectly clear that I didn't want to see you."

"Steve, I know you're a little angry with me right now but you've got to know I didn't mean a word of what I was saying. I guess I had a little too much to drink. Please, sweetheart, open the door. We need to talk about this."

A little angry? Holy shit, if this was only a little angry, I sure as hell wouldn't want her to see me if I was totally pissed off. Memories of the movie Fargo and the wood chipper flashed through my mind.

"Heather, just fucking leave, I'm not going to talk to you, and I'm sure as hell not letting you in the damn house. Why don't you take Brian and his big buddies and go some place nice and quiet and fuck yourself." I was done talking and slammed the door in her face.

How long she, Beth, and Roger stuck around I'm not sure. I went upstairs to what had been our bedroom and proceeded to puke for the next half hour. By the time I was done, there was nothing left in my stomach, and I think I saw a lung and part of my liver before I finally flushed. With some cold water on my face and a gargle of mouthwash, I walked into the bedroom and passed out on bed. Told you I wasn't much of a drinker.

Sunday morning was quiet, too quiet. It was almost nine before my brain kicked in and tried to get me to open my eyes. Our bedroom faced east and with the shades up and the drapes open, the sunlight was doing its best to keep me from sleeping any longer. My head hurt and the inside of my mouth tasted like something I'd rather not think about. I awoke fully dressed, including shoes, on top of the bedspread. When I reached over for my wife and didn't find her next to me, my brain graciously decided to remind me why not. I got pissed all over again.

I knew Heather wasn't a virgin when we married. I had been intimate with two girls before I met Heather, both those affairs being brief. I wasn't overly experienced, however I never realized she had that much more experience or I was that lame. Maybe I should have asked for letters of recommendations from the two girls I'd slept with to give to Heather. Looking back, I wondered if they would have sung my praises. I began to seriously doubt myself and my proficiency in the bedroom.

What she had offered up, with such gusto yesterday, cut me to the core. She didn't just put me down and shame me in front of our friends, she cut off my fucking balls and had them bronzed. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I wasn't sexually satisfying my wife. All these fucking years it looked like she'd been faking it with me. What's worse, she was fantasizing about being with someone else. The word humiliation doesn't come close to describing what I was feeling at this very moment. How in the hell could I look my friends in the eye ever again after yesterday? Goddamn, I hated her. She not only took my self-respect she took away my best friends.

I made it through Sunday without taking a drink or even looking at my cell phone. I already knew I probably had at least a dozen or so messages from Heather—fuck it, she was the last person in the world I wanted to talk to.

I knew Monday, after I left for work, Heather would have to come home and get into the house. She and my kids would need a change of clothes for work and school. I would have to prepare myself to deal with her after work, that is if I decided to come home.

Monday I was worthless. For the first hour I just stared at my computer screen saver, a beach picture of Heather and me on our honeymoon. We sure looked happy. After that I found a few trivial things to keep me busy until lunch. I was grateful for a budget meeting and a conference call in the afternoon to keep my mind occupied. It was almost five before I had time to again dwell on my situation.

My mind kept replaying Saturday afternoon and every time I thought about what she'd said I got angry all over again. I knew we'd have words, I just hoped it would be later rather than sooner because I had a ton of issues to somehow address.

All the way home I prayed she wouldn't be there. I wanted to see my children, but I didn't want to get into it with her with them present. Oh well, I'd soon see. I pulled onto our street.

"Shit," I said in disgust when I saw Heather's car on the driveway. The kids were in the front yard and ran to my car when I pulled in.

"Dad, we're having make your own pizza tonight for dinner. Mom's in the kitchen cutting up all the toppings and told us to tell you to go right in when you got home. I'm going to make myself a garbage pizza with everything on it," Robert said proudly. Amy stood by my side looking up at me.

"Well pumpkin, what are you going to put on your pizza?" I asked, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Just cheese, Daddy," Amy said smiling.

"Well, I'd better get in the house and help your mom if we plan on eating dinner anytime soon." I put Amy down. "You guys play nicely together outside and I'll call you when everything is ready." No use upsetting the young ones.

I walked quietly in the front door and saw Heather cutting and chopping in the kitchen. She still had her work clothes on and with her back to me she was oblivious to my presence.

How long had I been the stupid fool? From what I'd heard it sounded like most of my married life. She never said a damn word. If I'd know we could have learned what she needed together and been brought that much closer. Now, all I felt was repulsion towards her. She'd blindsided me. And I can only imagine what my friends thought of me now. My anger was bubbling over again.

"Well, no time like the present," my brain said as I walked into the kitchen. Dropping my laptop case on the kitchen table Heather jumped.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said, before spouting the same bullshit I'd heard for the last couple of days. "I'm so sorry, I must have gone brain dead Saturday. I don't know what I was thinking." I stopped her.

"First of all, don't try to bullshit me into believing you were drunk, because we both know you weren't. Second, everything that came out of your mouth afterwards was nothing more than you trying to back pedal and put a new spin on what I heard you say. I'm still in fucking shock. Who are you? You're sure not the woman I thought I married, that's for certain." She started walking towards me.

"Steve, please listen to me..."

"Heather, save your lies for someone who gives a shit because I no longer do." Tears were welling up in her eyes, they did nothing to soften my mood. It was like I was looking at a total stranger instead of the woman who was supposed to be the love of my life.

"Steve, it was just girl talk. You know comparing notes and slamming our husbands, it's what wives do when they're together. You must have heard Beth complaining about Roger, you've got him beat by a mile."

"You mean we're both losers? At least Beth didn't embellish on her description of her husband other than to say he was an animal in bed, only lamenting there wasn't a little more of him. You, on the other hand, rated me less than adequate. Weren't those your exact words?"

"Yes, except I didn't mean it the way it came out."

"You mean it's fucking worse? Jesus Christ, why the hell did you marry me if I was so fucking lame?" My voice was getting louder and cracking. "Oh wait, that's right, Brian wasn't the marrying kind. He was good enough to fuck, just not marry. Isn't that about right?"