I love some of the tropes here. Laptopwriter and Texas Tall Tales both have excellent stories about a wife requesting time away from hubby, while swearing their devotion to him at the same time, "The Fourth Man" and "That Damn Valentine's Day Card" respectively. I'm not in their league writing-wise, but I think I have a fun story that follows the form while taking matters in a slightly different direction. You should definitely read the stories mentioned above.
All chapters are already written and should be posted on subsequent days unless life does something dastardly.
No Questions Asked
Monday
Monday evening Bea heard her husband arrive home from work, his commute being nearly a half hour longer than hers she always got home first. She walked into the kitchen where Dave had just come in from the garage. He was making himself a drink. She watched him carefully then decided to prepare a drink herself. When done she left the drink on the counter and slid up to Dave's back where he had just relaxed in one of the kitchen table chairs.
Bea hugged him tightly, "You are the greatest blessing of my life!" Bea broke her clench and scooted to the other side of the table where she could sit and see his face.
"Wow, that sure beat the crap out of "Hi honey" or "How was your day!" Dave's smile was broad and infectious, his demeanor changed now from workday serious to stress free happiness. Bea had that effect on him. He took a strong pull from his drink.
Dave's first clue something was amiss was his wife's expression. Typically, they shared smiles. His had been a big happy one, her face however was taught, serious, and stressed. He could have sworn she made a drink; it was nowhere in sight. He wasn't sure what that meant. He knew his smile was gone replaced by a curious cocked eyebrow, inviting explanation.
Bea rubbed her hands together in a slow-motion imitation of a scout starting a fire. Her lips pulled back painfully to expose her teeth, all that was missing was a pained hiss. As her lips came back together her brows knit. She was worried, though much more unhappy to say whatever was coming, "Uh Dave, I have to ask you something. I wish I didn't. What I'm asking you for may be impossible. I love you, I always will. I'm never going to leave you and never want to hurt you, but I know you, and I'm scared I'm about to hurt you."
Dave's expression grew intense, "How can I help you, Bea?" His voice was soaked with sincerity.
Bea involuntarily coughed at his display of concern, "Wow. That response makes my request ten times worse."
Dave was instantly highly distressed, "Baby. Are you sick? Did they tell you whether we can beat it? They're often wrong. They actually cure two thirds of all cancers caught early now." Then he said again even more earnestly, "How can I help you, Bea?"
Bea felt dizzy. She felt ill. She tried shaking her head. Dave's intense display of faith shook her. "No Dave, I'm not sick. Well, I'm heartsick. I've been heartsick for a while now, perhaps I'm having an emotional heart attack." She looked away for a moment, finding it hard to look Dave in the face as she forced herself to turn back towards him. "No honey, there's no health emergency. I-I want to take a little time away. A weekend." She made sure their eyes were locked, "And I want to go just by myself."
Dave looked confused. Bea's eyes welled up as she continued, "Here's the worst part, baby. I'm asking you for a leap of faith in me, when I'm not going to reciprocate. I don't want you to know anything about this weekend." Bea had trouble going on, just as she had trouble swallowing before she could speak again, "I know you, Dave. I know that's going to vex you. I'm trying to make sure it doesn't hurt you. Except I know you have a wonderful imagination and it's going to work against you here."
Bea could see this was already working on him. He was looking at her as if she was pulling away from him. She wanted to die.
"May I ask any questions?" Dave was both vexed and perplexed. His tone made it clear he was going to ask regardless.
Unsure sure how to interpret his question, guessing he was trying to honor her statement about not wanting him to know anything about the weekend, Bea nodded.
"Bea, are you in some kind of trouble? Something I don't know about? A gambling debt, perhaps something terrible from your past, or something involving one of your family members? Maybe something that normally the police would be involved in, but you've been told your loved ones would be hurt if you said anything."
Bea almost wept she loved Dave so much, "Oh damn. You're trying to exonerate me. You're trusting me! A-And I'm going to kick you in the shins for it." She paused for an unusually large inhalation, "I'm not in any sort of trouble. There's no external force compelling me to do this. There's no one else you can shift the blame to." She bit her lips maintaining a solid eye hold on him, "Honey, there's a question from my past. It doesn't fit any of the definitions you just laid out. I'm desperate for an answer. I want to say as little about this as possible and yet I know that leaves the most room for misinterpretation. I've already told you I love you. I will also tell you I have no expectation of ever pulling a stunt like this again. I only need a single weekend."
With more reserve Dave asked, "Did you have any expectation that you'd "pull this stunt" this time? Has this been something you knew was going to happen and never told me?"
She chewed her lip again, "That may be a matter of interpretation. Frankly, all of this is a matter of interpretation for you. Now that I've asked for what I need, you're the one that decides everything. I can make the request, but I can't put you at ease and I can't make you think what I'd like you to think. If I could I'd take all worry out of your mind!" She fought choking up, "I know too well I'm dumping a fifty-five-gallon drum of worry over your head."
Bea paused, continuing as soon as she could, "Some of this I just don't know how to take either. I don't even know how to take what I'm asking to do. I don't know exactly how to judge my own part in this. So, imagine my utter confusion and worry about your part in this when I basically want you to fly blind and stay blind."
His demeanor changed from his earlier consummate concern. Dave sighed a low grumpy tone, "Bea, I might be willing to accept the blindfold, but it sure would be nice to know a little something more."
Bea looked at him trying not to panic.
Unable to contain his disbelief Dave asked, "Do you plan on doing something that you know would hurt me?"
Bea cringed, praying she wasn't showing her internal battle. She was trying to not show any emotion that would tip her husband into a hurtful place, but she knew he could see some pretty hurtful possibilities anyway.
Bea's eyebrows knit a trail of sorrow, "This has been my whole problem. I know if I tell you everything it will simply give you fodder to ask more questions: the ones I don't want to answer or can't answer now. I also know that what I'm asking for is rather cruel and will drive you crazy. I love you, and if you don't let me do this, I will still love you. But I pray you won't disallow it."
Bea fiddled with her hands looking longingly out the window at the peaceful sunshine. She turned back towards her beloved husband, "Dave, I've been wrestling with this for a long time. I thought the matter was gone; decided. I mean, I know the way it's going to turn out. I know we should have a happy ending. I know if I get what I want, we'll be sitting right here together again next week, and next year, and next decade, until we are playing the harp together on some cloud somewhere." Her lips pulled back into a grimace before she rushed out, "Baby, I just need to know more about my own nature."
"And you can't share that with me?" Dave asked, amazed she could think her admission put any worry to rest.
Bea closed her eyes, "I've thought about sharing the whole process with you. I've really truly thought about that. But the only way I could think to do it would either be hot or horrendous. Except either way you would definitely question any possible change of my nature. You'd look for changes to see if they exist whether they do or not -- just like I've been doing. If things turn out different than I believe, I'd hate for you to see my initial response at finding out.
"Dave, I plan for everything to stay the same between us. If the question is answered a certain way, I'd hate for you to see that, and change your response to me. I promise my discovery won't change anything in the long run; I love you, and love is more important to me than anything else. It's just that after this crazy stunt and I have my answers, I want things to be as they were ten minutes before I started this ridiculous conversation. I hope, and sort of believe, things will go the best possible way. But if they don't, I'm scared you might see something and be vexed by it the rest of your life, the way I've been vexed by it for half of mine. In other words, I don't want to cure myself only to infect you."
Bea was dressed in a silk kimono. She held out her arms in a halfhearted display, "Let me give you an example of how jumbled everything is in my mind. I wore this little thing because you love me in it. I knew this conversation would be tough and I hoped to prove my veracity to you afterwards. It's just that I'm over-thinking everything now and it's spread into all facets of my life. It all springs from the one stupid question I hope to resolve on my weekend away. The kimono is an example of the state I'm in. Here's the trouble: if I gave you my body first before we talk, wouldn't that be manipulating you? I don't want that at all! Even if it made you happy with me, I don't want to "soften you up" or make you believe I was trying to. However, being dressed like this through our conversation is a distraction when all I intend it to be is a promise. I hope this tells you I'm yours and want to please you, only you, in a way tailored to you. After making a federal case out of the simple decision to wear it or not, I had to wrestle with the fear it would bring sex into the equation."
Before Bea could continue Dave asked, "Is sex in the equation?"
She answered deflated, "I guess it is now." Maintaining eye contact she further answered, "Honestly, I'd like to see if I can take sex back out of the conversation. I love you completely. You are my mate beyond question. That's not in question: that's carved into my heart." She reached across the table taking his hands, "I do NOT want another man. There is no man involved in this. None to any degree. It's not about that. At all!" She saw him visibly relax. "I'm sorry I ever made you think it."
"Bea, you have to admit that the request being wrapped in secrecy, and yeah, being dressed, or undressed, like that make it seem like you're trying atone for a sexual misdeed with in-kind currency."
She blushed furiously. "I was frightened you'd think that; I just said so. Oh Dave, there's a world of difference between sex and intimacy. For merely putting those thoughts in your head, regardless of how I was dressed, I wanted to give myself to you after our discussion, so you didn't doubt I was completely yours."
Dave was perplexed, several word choices in her last statement sent mixed messages -- or could. Perhaps that was exactly the sort of over-thinking she was speaking of. He chose his words carefully, "So, exacerbating the subject of sex by dressing sexy, then backing it up with actual sex, isn't supposed to reinforce the concern, but is actually your plan to dismiss it? Isn't that like trying to keep a ship from sinking by filling it with water?"