On Monday night at dinner, I told Esther about my new hours. I would start on the Providence-South Station line on Wednesday. She was genuinely glad for me, and I couldn't help but catch her glancing at Star.
Star congratulated me and said that she and Esther would find a way to have fun without me.
That night, I put my hand on Esther's shoulder as she read in bed, and I asked her if she wanted to have sex. She said that she still wasn't ready.
Every night when I came home—which was now usually around ten o'clock, I asked her—not ready, yet.
So, every night at midnight, I went into the living room and turned on the television, waiting and hoping that Star might emerge from her bedroom. She didn't.
On Thursday night in bed, Esther sighed and said, "Fine." She rolled on her back and spread her legs under the sheets. Initially fired up, I sat up and slid under the sheets on top of her. I bent down to kiss her, but she turned her head away. I stopped and looked at her eyes. She looked like she was steeling herself for an uncomfortable medical exam. Fuck that.
I slid off of her and said, "I don't want to fuck some girl who doesn't want to fuck me."
Then, I realized I had just dropped two f-bombs. She stared at me, stunned.
"Sorry. I curse sometimes. A lot, actually. Tried to hide it from you all these years because I knew you wouldn't like it."
Esther opened her mouth as if to say something. Nothing. She closed her mouth, and an image flashed in my mind of sliding my cock in between those lips. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
I sighed, adding, "Doesn't seem to be any point in trying to hide it any longer, so fuck it." I rolled onto my side away from her.
Anger welled up inside me. I was starting to genuinely dislike my wife. I wanted to ravage her body, though. Fuck, I wanted every part of her.
I turned over and glanced at her, seeing that long blonde hair. For years, I dreamed of wrapping it around my wrist and clutching it while I fucked her from behind.
I began to think it might never happen.
Thankfully, I thought, I wouldn't have to suffer through uncomfortable dinners during the week, but weekends would suck if it weren't for Star keeping the conversation going.
Friday, between my morning and evening runs, I went to the Barnes and Noble in Downtown Crossing—yes, my third trip to a bookstore in a matter of weeks. I was sick of spending my evenings being bored as hell, waiting for sex with Esther that seemed like it would never happen again, or waiting in desperation for Star to come back to the living room in the middle of the night to chat and suck my dick.
Also, I felt stupid. I felt like the number of times that I had looked foolish seemed to be increasing of late. Reading books made you smart, I think I heard somewhere. So, I walked around for a while, and then I found a cute, somewhat older employee and asked her what might be a hard book to read.
"I'm sorry?" she responded.
"I'm not a big reader. I barely graduated high school, actually."
The woman smiled—not condescendingly, it seemed, at my blunt honesty.
I continued, "So, I just wanted to find a good book that will be hard for me to read—a challenge, you know?"
"What kind of books do you like?"
"I don't know. None of them?"
She smiled. "How about fiction or non-fiction for starters?"
"Non-fiction is true, right?"
She nodded.
"Fiction, then. Like an English class book. A really tough one."
She walked me over to the fiction section and pulled out The Grapes of Wrath.
"No!" I almost yelled.
She looked surprised.
"Sorry," I told her, "we had that one during my senior year. I can't do that. What else?"
"Did you actually read it?"
"No."
She smiled. "Well, then, here you are." She handed it to me.
I liked her self-assurance. I took the book, nodding. "Okay."
I bought it.
That night, Esther was waiting up for me when I got home. She saw me carrying the book.
"What is that?"
"A book I'm going to read."
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Why?"
I shrugged. "Well, I'm going to be totally honest here, Ess. I'm not getting laid, and I need something to take my mind off it. Second, I've been feeling dumb. There's some things I thought I knew, but I obviously didn't. So, I'm going to read to get smarter."
"Good," she responded.
I quit getting dressed and just stared at her.
She noticed. "That's...that's not what I meant. I..."
I just gave her a look that said, "Come on, what the fuck, lady?"
She gave up.
"Esther, do I need to move out? Out of this room? Out of the apartment?"
She didn't respond. She looked like she was thinking really hard about her answer.
Fuck it. I tried to give her an out. "Esther, I'm glad that you and Star have become good friends, and I want you to know that if the time you spend with her is helping you figure things out, then I'm okay with it. I wish I could be more help, but if my sister can do it better than I can, I understand. Tell me where you need me, and that's where I'll be. Or, if it's better for you to be in her room or something, then so be it."
For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw joy in her eyes, but if it had been there, she covered it quickly and thoroughly. She said, "Thank you for saying so."
Finished dressing, I slid into bed with my new book. Reading! Yeah!
"I'm going to start a new job tomorrow," she said.
I didn't turn toward her. "Are you happy about it?"
"Yes, I wanted to feel like I was doing my part."
"You always were. Nobody ever doubted that."
"I know. I just felt like I needed something of my own."
"Then, I'm glad. What's the job?"
"Weekend mailroom at Dana-Farber. Star mentioned it to me."
"Cool. They get a lot of weekend mail?"
"Tons."
"So you sort it and run it up to the offices?"
"Yes."
Esther was going to work on Sundays? A month ago she would have considered that downright evil. "What hours?" I asked.
"Nine to five, both days."
"So sixteen hours?"