I stood motionless in the center of the kitchen, gazing out the large window at the drab grayish black sky. The high street lamp created a glowing, misty haze that reflected off the slow drizzle as it floated down onto the wet concrete. Puddles formed, making small cloudy lakes on the dark surface of the road, the grainy water running in small streams to the storm drains, trickling down into the sewer. I hadn't heard my wife enter the kitchen behind me until she opened the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. I turned to look, as she pulled out one of her dark beers; I didn't like the dark beer, too bitter.
"Could you grab one of my beers?" I asked quietly, not moving, but glancing out the corner of my eye at her.
She turned and looked out into the living room, not responding to me. She was tall, long silky legs, with lean muscle. The blue lace panties she was wearing slipped up between the lower portion of her ass, like a half thong, her full round cheeks slightly red. A matching bra squeezed her large breasts together, creating a deep crevasse of lightly tanned skin. She walked, almost on her toes, one leg in front of the other, ass swinging side to side, to the living room, and spun around, her black hair fanning out over her back, then sat firmly down on the old leather recliner, my chair, one leg tucked neatly underneath her. Her dark bangs almost covered her eyes, she hadn't had them cut in awhile. Sipping the beer, she looked down at the bottle, big blue eyes drooping on the edges, the sparkle lost. Her lips were curled down on the edges, face and jaw line taut. Head snapping up, her big blue eyes looked right through me. A single teardrop squeezed out the corner of her eye and ran down her soft face, around her little button, upturned nose, through the corner of her full ruby lips, over her chin, then picking up speed as it traveled down her supple neck and stopped suddenly at the top of her breasts, hanging precariously, before disappearing into the deep valley. A heavy sigh escaped her lungs.
"I can't do this." She whispered, eyes still piercing me.
"Why." I answered back, raising my arms in the air.
"Ryan," She looked down into her beer bottle. "You're just not..." She refused to look up. "I don't know what to do?"
"We should talk about it, give it some time, for fuck's sake." I stepped closer. "I mean, we ARE married." I looked down at my green tee shirt, with a man riding a dirt bike on it. It was my favorite shirt, she had bought it for me, I stretched it out and let it spring back on my chest, trying to clear my head.
"I just don't know. I know you're here, but you're really not" The tears started falling for real now, streaming down her face. "Ryan, tell me what to do." She lowered her face into her open palms and started shaking her head. "I know, you can't, you won't, you never do." Her words muffled loudly into her hands.
"I don't even know what that means!" I spoke back at her, feeling out of breath. "I'm right fucking here." My voice lowered. "I don't understand you when you get this way, it makes no sense to me!"
I watched, knowing I should go to her, help her, put my arms around her and squeeze her until she came to her senses. The room darkened as the outside light began to disappear; I stood frozen, unable to move. The desire was there, but something inside me knew that she had to figure this out on her own, come to her own decisions. She stood up from the chair, wiping her eyes, the light from the overhead lamp sparkling off her wet face.
"I'll figure this out on my own." Her voice was determined, as she picked up her beer and went into the bathroom, never once looking at me.
Again I seemed frozen in place, uncertain as to what I should do. The urge to run into the bathroom and grab her around her waist and shake her, swept over me, but I remained still. I could see her in the bathroom as she turned on the water, slipped her underwear down her long slender legs, then reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, letting the material fall off her large oval breasts and onto the floor below.
The steam from the hot water was wafting out from over the glass panel as she opened the door and stepped into the shower. Leaning up against the door frame to the bathroom, I listened to the water as it rained down on her, and watched the sexy silhouette of my wife through the steam, gentle curves of her shadowy figure. Light and soft, sounds began to rise with the steam in the shower, hanging in the fog and steadily getting louder with each passing second, until I could hear her crying once again, uncontrolled and loud.
"I can't take this!" I yelled into the steam. "I'm going to Shawn's house, you can call me when you are ready to talk." I turned and made for the front door. I am going to ride my motorcycle, I thought, I could use the therapy right now.
Hours later I found myself in the gravel parking lot of Uncle Mo's bar and grill, shivering from the cool drizzle. I wasn't here to get a drink, I didn't need a drink. I wasn't here to play pool or darts, not to chat and laugh with friends, I was here because of a green nineteen sixty-seven Ford Shelby Cobra Mustang. I put my fingers on the door and ran them down the length of the sleek body, the steel cold to the touch. This was my car, unmistakable, given to me by my dying father. Now it was parked at a bar about two miles from our house. I was sure that Rebecca was here to blow off some steam, this wasn't the type of place that she usually patronizes; I was the rundown tavern type, not her. I had been to Mo's before, mostly blue-collar types and truckers. I went around to the back, in the large parking area, where the truckers entered the building. I always liked this place, it was local, with local people and local employees. The sharp blue neon sign that radiated Uncle Mo's Bar & Grill, hanging over the street, flickered and went out, then lit back up, buzzing loudly. The old wooden screen door creaked as I pulled it open.
I straightened the blue button-up shirt I was wearing, then unbuttoned a couple, so I didn't look dressed up, this wasn't that kind of place, and besides, I hated wearing this shirt. Looking down the hallway, I saw the smoke filled barroom, beyond the bathrooms. People still smoked in the bar. The old tavern received notice after notice from the city, threatening to close them down or fine them if they continued to let people smoke inside; they hung each one of the yellow warning tickets on the wall, like a badge of honor; eventually the warnings just quit coming. The place was crowded, with loud chatter filling the air. I scanned the bar and found my wife almost immediately, sitting in the corner at a large round booth, back to me and alone, sipping a drink. This crowd didn't particularly care for outsiders, unless you were a beautiful woman, then it didn't matter. I weaved through the packed bar without so much as a glance my way, I guess I had come here enough to be considered a local. Leaning against the wall, beside the front entrance, I watched her drink, the smoke around her seemed to part, like her beauty would not let it touch her milky skin. The tight jeans she was wearing had rips up and down the legs, cut across her thighs, and the loose black shirt with a deep vee neck, hung off her breasts, showing off a good portion of deep cleavage.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The tall man who walked up next to her table, looked down at her.
"No thank you." She said, looking up at him. His eyes widened when he saw her face and his smile disappeared.
"Y-Y-Yes, yes, sorry." He fumbled the words out, stepping back. He knew instantly that she was out of his league.
"It's o.k., thank you for the offer, that is very nice." She told him with a gentle smile.
The front door opened swiftly, almost hitting me, when a large man burst in, head on a swivel and eyes darting around. I nodded and smiled as he passed, looking right at me, but he just ignored me, like he had better things to do. He stopped at the center of the bar, pivoting and peering around the smoky room, when the whole place went quiet and everyone looked in his direction.
"Yep." I said under my breath and with a half smile. "You're the outsider that everyone in this bar hates."
The man quickly spotted my wife and headed in her direction. Weaving through the crowded room, he stopped at her table, looking down at her. His large arms and broad shoulders were thick with muscle. Running a hand through his short dark brown hair and pushing it off to the side, his cheekbones clinched up, flexing his taut jaw line. He stared down at her with his deep blue eyes and smiled. She looked up at him, making eye contact, causing him to step back a little, his eyes widened.
"Y-You must be Rebecca?" He quickly recovered, holding out his hand. "I'm Mason, sorry I'm late." She put her soft hand into his, shaking it. "May I?" He glanced over to the other side of the booth.
"Why yes, I'm sorry." She answered, nodding her head. "It's nice to meet you."
My mouth fell open as I watched the man sit down across from my wife. I was sure it wasn't a date, she would never do something like that, I knew her too well. I moved over a little so I wasn't directly in front of him, next to a wood post that I could lean on. I was close to a couple of women talking, but they didn't seem to mind me invading their space, and I could now see both my wife and her friend from the side.
