I couldn't decide which category best suited this story, so I compromised on Loving Wives. I'm sure there are those that will complain it doesn't belong, but that's life.
Walter and Natalie
Ch. 1 Growing a Set
"Walter, are you going to cut the lawn, or are you just going to sit in front of the TV and do nothing?"
Fuck! I'd just finished washing both cars, raking the leaves, and cleaning the back deck. Apparently that wasn't enough for my darling Natalie. I grabbed the remote and pushed the power button, turning off the college football game that was about to start the second half. I pushed myself up out of the big chair and stomped off to the garage. I knew better than to resist the irresistible. Do what you're told, Walter. Don't make waves. You'll pay for it if you do. Resistance is futile, sayeth the Borg.
I wonder what other tasks Natalie had contrived to create for me this weekend. Clean the windows? Power-wash the driveway? Tidy up the basement? Muck out the gutters? I was sure they would all be on her list. It was just a matter of timing. Just when I thought I had fulfilled my honey-do obligations, she would pull one of these tasks out of the hat.
I had a fourteen year-old son and a twelve year old daughter who might have contributed to these efforts, but no. Natalie didn't want them to be bothered with chores during their youth. They were to have fun and socialize in their spare time, she said. I was here to provide them with the funds for their enjoyment. Their allowances were ridiculous in my opinion, but not as far as Natalie was concerned. She saw their weekly stipend as barely above starvation level. At least in that regard I hadn't bent. I did wonder, however, if their mother had been supplementing their income.
Sounds miserable, doesn't it? Well, it wasn't always this way, but lately, or at least during the past couple of years, it had become more and more unpleasant. How did it get that way? Because I let it get that way. I would go along to get along. Don't make waves. Keep peace in the valley.
The rationalization for this state of affairs was simple. I was a hard-working guy and the only breadwinner in our family. I went to work and was gone from seven in the morning until six at night. An unpleasant commute took up two hours of that time, but the rest was nose-to-the-grindstone hard work, pushing tax forms from one side of my desk to the other.
I used to look forward to the weekends, but lately, I had been having second thoughts. It seemed that Natalie was dreaming up everything she could think of to keep me occupied rather than resting and relaxing from a taxing week's work, pardon the pun. What's more, I had been accepting it. Not willingly I'll admit, but just the same I'd never said no.
That's me, all right. Never say no. Never stand up on my hind legs and protest. No ... just go along to get along. I'm Walter McGuire. I'm thirty-seven going on seventy. I stand six foot tall, give or take. I weigh about a hundred-and-ninety, give or take. Blonde, thinning hair, blue eyes, reasonable looking, left-handed, and passive.
Natalie, my once beloved wife, is a half-foot shorter than me, maybe a hundred and twenty-five pounds, decent tits, nice ass, brown eyes, reddish-brown hair, and fairly good looking. Even after having our two children, her body wasn't much different than when we were married.
She was Natalie Pellman when I met her. Her father was the vice principal at our high school, so she had some problems getting dates. I didn't know any better, so I was the one who pursued her ... and in the end ... won her. We dated, had sex after about six months of fooling around, and got married when I finished college.
At first, everything was just great. We had sex regularly, at least three times a week. Natalie found a job in a retail clothing store and worked there until she became pregnant with Robert. She almost immediately quit her job and stayed home to prepare herself for motherhood. I didn't mind. She didn't make enough to add much to our household income and what she did earn she spent on clothes for herself. Two years later she was pregnant with Karen and the cycle repeated itself.
I loved our children. They were wonderful additions to our family and they proved to be bright and happy kids. Both of them had little trouble with school and we were proud of their accomplishments as they grew. Robert soon became Rob and proved to be a very good little league second baseman. I don't think I ever missed a game. Now he was in middle school, playing for school team and still doing very well.
Karen was artistic. We recognized her skill almost from the beginning as she began to play with crayons, then graduating to pencil and watercolors. She had an eye for color and composition and it showed in her work. She would spend hours creating drawings and paintings when she wasn't out playing with her friends or in school. She was remarkably talented for a twelve-year-old.
Lately, the children had taken to being with me more than their mother. Perhaps it was because I always expressed an interest in what they were doing, but maybe also because they could see tension between their mother and me. That tension was eating at me as well as the children. Yet I did nothing about it. I was reluctant to create a crisis in the household, so ... I ... did ... nothing.
"Walter, are you going to fix this leaking tap, once and for all?"
"Which tap is that, dear?"
"The kitchen tap! Don't you pay any attention to what I'm saying? That damn tap has been leaking for weeks and you've done nothing about it."
"Well ... to be honest ... I haven't noticed any leak at all. You'd better show me."
"It's not leaking now, you fool. It's when I'm using it to do the dishes that it drips."
"I don't ever remember you saying anything about it leaking," I said, wondering what the fuss was about. Changing a tap washer might take ten minutes, most of that sorting through my box of spares to find the right size and shape.
"Don't give me that! I must have told you a hundred times it was leaking and you do nothing! Sometimes I wonder what I saw in you."
I looked at her. Her face was red and anger was written all over it. What the fuck was this all about, I wondered.
I was about to say something in reply when she turned and stomped out of the kitchen and off to her private little room in the back of the house. It was supposed to be a fourth bedroom but she had commandeered it when we bought the house and it was her room.
I leaned back on the kitchen counter and wondered just what was going on. Was she suffering from depression? Was she that unhappy with our marriage? Did she want out? I had no way of knowing. I sighed the sigh of the weary. One of these days I was going to have to deal with it. Whatever "it" was.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking she's having an affair. No chance. Why? Because there was no evidence that she had the time. She didn't go out in the evenings. She had a house to clean and meals to prepare and children to look after. On top of that she had her sewing and reading to keep her occupied. I suppose she could have made time for a lover, but it was so unlikely that I had dismissed it as bordering on the absurd.
I had pretty much made up my mind that we were headed for a show-down over her behavior. It would have to happen when both kids were out of the house and I was already rehearsing my speech to her. Yeah, that's right. I was finally sucking it up and facing the facts. Our marriage was in trouble and neither of us seemed to want to admit that. Well, for once in my life, I would take the initiative. It might all blow up in my face but at least I would have taken the first step.
As it turned out, both Karen and Rob were out one Sunday afternoon and I knew it was time to beard the lion in its den; in this case, Natalie's private room. I knocked on the door to announce my presence and she looked up surprised.
"Yes?"
"Natalie, I think it's time we had a talk."
She looked at me curiously, then asked, "Why?"
"I should think that was obvious. Your leaking tap tantrum the other day was just a symptom. Your attitude in general is very negative, especially toward me. Even the children have noticed it. I'd like to know why you feel that way."
The look she gave me was one of complete astonishment. You'd have thought I had sprouted two heads.
"What are you talking about? I don't have a negative attitude."
"Yes ... you do. And, to be honest, I'm tired of it and I don't intend to go on accepting it any more. If you're not happy with me ... if you want me out of your life ... then say so. I can deal with that. But this constant harping and nagging and the endless list of my shortcomings has got to stop. The one way I can think of accomplishing that is to leave."
She looked completely bewildered.
"Do you have any sense of what you say or how you say it?" I continued.
"I admit, you can be aggravating at times, but to call our marriage into question over a little thing like a leaky faucet is a bit much, Walter."
"It isn't about a leaky faucet. It's about how you treat me and how little affection you show me. This isn't something new, Natalie. It's been building over the last two years. I've made the mistake of not doing something about it until now."
"Do you really feel I don't love you any more?"
"That's the impression you're giving me. I don't know what other conclusion I could draw from your behavior."
She sat there motionless, her mouth open and eyes wide in surprise. After a few moments she looked away and then turned back to me.
"You're wrong, you know. I mean ... I do love you ... I'm sure I do."
"What does that mean?" I asked aggressively.
"I mean ... I can't think of any reason not to love you."
"That makes no sense. I think you need professional help."
"You think I'm crazy?" she asked in complete shock.
"No ... but you need some help in understanding just how you've been behaving. If you're in any doubt about what I'm telling you, I suggest you talk to Karen or Rob. Perhaps they can open your eyes. Apparently you don't believe me."
For the first time I saw a look of fear in her face. My voice had been quite firm and unyielding but not loud. It was a big change from my normal tone and she must have picked up on that. There was a "no nonsense" quality about it.
I didn't expect what came next. "What do you think is wrong with me," she asked in a meek voice.
"I don't know. Perhaps you are suffering from depression. That's treatable and not uncommon in this day and age. One thing is certain, you need help if you are truly unaware of just how you've been acting."
