Friday Afternoon (2 page)

Before tonight, it had been weeks since Levi and I had sex. I have no doubt it’s the longest we’ve ever gone without some kind of sexual gratification between us. Even right after the twins were born, we still got each other off.

I shake my head, feeling the hard weight of it rolling over my laced fingers. Even when we’re intimate, we’re not. Not anymore. I feel lonely and disconnected from him more than usual. We’ve grown apart, and the expanse between us widens a little more every day. The sense of deep intimacy that once sustained us has been squandered, unappreciated until now there’s little, if any, left.

This thought brings about the niggling worry that’s been growing exponentially since I locked myself in here. Is he seeing another woman? Does he have someone more beautiful to put his dick into? It’s either that or he’s jerking off. I know all men jerk off, but it shouldn’t be their go-to move, right?

I deflate. He’d rather jerk off on the sly, like a perv at a peepshow, than fuck me. I swallow down the tight knot forming in my throat. It’s like fucking me is a chore.

The thought cuts deep and makes the insecurities within me flourish. I don’t like the feeling. I’ve had it before once or twice. It hangs on to my subconscious, throwing darts of doubt and fear at unwanted times.

I have gotten a little mommyish. It beats the hell out of me how and when it happened, but I’m going to have to take steps to correct it. I’m part of the problem too.

My thoughts wander to the items in my wardrobe I’m going to toss in an effort to fight the bore I’ve become. Eventually my thoughts drift as sleep envelopes me.

* * * *

I make a beeline through the snowy parking lot of my office building to my car, my black leather pumps sloshing through the wet snow. When I slam the driver’s door closed, the cold, silent twilight inside the car feels bleak and increases my anxiety. I make my way home on autopilot. As I drive, the sky darkens, turning to night, and the colors from the lighted signs identifying the fast food restaurants and stores in the middle of town reflect off the wet streets.

Tears fill my eyelids to the brim. I’ve wallowed in the events of last night all day. As a result, I’m walking an emotional high wire, just a breeze away from losing it. I tell myself I’m lucky. My life is perfect. Everybody is happy and healthy. Why can’t I be satisfied with that? No matter how many times I convince myself I’m not going to say or do anything to let him know how upset I am, I know this is not going to end well.

“God, please, please don’t let me find out he’s seeing someone else,” I whisper into the emptiness. I’m terrified because there’s no possible positive outcome for the discussion I want to have. It’s all bad, but to what degree? Is it I-don’t-find-you-sexy-anymore bad? Or is it I’ve-had-a-mistress-for-the last-five-years bad?

The thought of living the rest of my life without Levi by my side is debilitating. And that’s exactly what I would be forced to do if he has someone else. I make a quick right turn onto a side street and pull over. I cover my face with my hands and the tears finally burst out of me. Shit. I’m in a sinkhole. Feelings of rejection and self-doubt have sucked me in all day, submerging me slowly, until this issue is the only topic in my head.

When I finally finish with the pathetic blubbering, I wipe my tears and straighten myself so I can walk in the door and be Mom. As I pull myself together, a whisper of a feeling tingles down the back of my neck. I shudder. The immediate knowledge I’m at a crossroads right here, right now, assaults me like a slap to the face. It doesn’t matter what the details are, what answers he gives me to my questions, because my first instinct is to fight. No matter what is happening between us, I’m going to fight for my marriage. I’m not willing to settle for what’s left after the business of building a career, settling into a home and raising kids has pillaged it. If he doesn’t want me anymore, I’ll accept it. But if it’s anything else, I’m going to fight for us. I’m ready to start living again. It’s time for me and Levi to start living again. A quick swirl of determination breezes through me at the thought.

I can fix this…I think. Is it even possible to feel passionately in love and sexually exhilarated by someone I’ve been sleeping with for over fifteen years? There’s no reason why the two of us can’t pick up where we left off so many years ago, right?

I know what I have to do. The deafening silence between us has to be obliterated.

I move through my evening, cooking and discussing school with my daughters as if my life isn’t teetering on the edge of the unknown.

Later, after the girls leave the dinner table and I’ve finished doing dishes, I gather up my courage to open up this potential Pandora’s box of a conversation. Suddenly, opening my mouth is tantamount to cracking open a Tupperware from my fridge. It’s chancy because once revealed for my inspection, I’m not sure I want to know what’s inside.

“We need to talk,” I say to Levi, looking over my shoulder, making sure Ella and Luna are off somewhere else in the house.

He looks up from his laptop. “About?”

His deep brown eyes have the beginnings of laugh lines at the outside corners. He’s still so handsome. The years have been good to him, too good, maybe. Mature men can still be so gorgeous. Mature women? Not so much.

I clear my throat. Now that I have his undivided attention, I falter on how to start. I’m afraid to ask the questions wreaking havoc in my mind. I’m still not sure I want to know the answers. He sits back in his chair and waits, looking at me with his patient consideration. But his expression changes to concern as the silence stretches. He knows the longer it takes me to talk, the more serious the topic.

“What’s going on, babe?”

I swallow hard and in a soft voice, ask, “Do you still love me, Levi?” Fear rips through me as the words tumble past my lips and then spikes when he doesn’t answer me immediately.

But then, his face softens. “Of course I do. Why would you ask me that?”

“Are you happy…with me, I mean…with our relationship?”

I feel ill.

“Yes, I’m happy. Aren’t you?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“I feel a but coming.” He smiles at me. I don’t smile back.

“I feel like I’m not sexy to you anymore.”

A flash of surprise registers on his face. Levi pushes his laptop aside and sighs. “Ahh. This is about last night.”

“Yes and no. I miss you.” I whisper the words. “I miss our connection. The spark of lust in your eyes when you look at me.” I take a deep breath, not wanting to blurt out the next sentence, but I know it has to be done. “I know I’ve gained some weight over the years. Are you not attracted to me anymore?” His eyebrows pop up and genuine dismay shapes his features. Again he takes a few seconds before he speaks.

“We’ve been married a long time, Mia. I think it’s pretty normal for things to get…” He trails off, obviously smart enough to not finish the sentence.

Hot tears of humiliation begin to drop freely now because I still have the one last unasked question. It is the one weighing most heavily on my mind. “I don’t feel it from you, and I can’t figure out why you rarely make love to me anymore. And now when you do, it’s not good for you. Are you seeing somebody else?”

I hold my breath. This, by far, is the worst moment of my married life. I honestly think I’m not going to get an answer I can live with.

“Oh God, Mia, no! I’m not seeing anybody else.” He pauses and looks away from me. “Jeez.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry things between us have been so bad you’re asking me that question.” He rubs a hand over his face. “This space that’s grown between us isn’t because I don’t love you or find you sexy. Mia.” He pushes his chair away from the table and pats his lap. “Come here.”

My steps are hesitant, as I walk the few feet between us. I ease myself onto his lap, trying to make myself small, and snuggle into him. The solid wall of his chest rests directly under my ear and I can’t help the sigh of contentment that escapes me. He takes my chin and lifts it so our eyes meet. “You’re it for me, babe. The love of my life,” he says, gathering me even closer.

“You didn’t come last night,” I whisper.

“That didn’t have anything to do with you. I was distracted. I was afraid the girls could hear us, and as soon as that thought crossed my mind, it was over for me.” He catches my tears with the side of his finger. “Please don’t cry. There’s nothing wrong with our marriage we can’t fix.” He pulls me in closer. “Tell me what you need, babe. And I’ll do it.”

I look away, forcing him to let go of my chin and burrow into the hard wall of his chest again. His crisp white dress shirt is already stained from my eye makeup. “I don’t want to have to tell you how to love me. I just want you to want me. I want our sex life back. I want to feel special to you. I don’t want to just know I’m loved I want to
feel
it.”

“Babe, I want all those things, too. It’s hard with kids. When they were little, they needed you too much. Now they’re older and know too much. The girls are thirteen–old enough to know what they’re hearing coming from our bedroom. It’s a mind fuck I have problems dealing with sometimes.”

He shakes his head and draws in a long breath. “Okay, I don’t have any appointments scheduled on Friday afternoon. Come straight home from work. We’ll have the house to ourselves.” He smiles at me and kisses my temple. “We’ll take it from there, okay?”

Later that night, I lie awake in bed and look over at the man sleeping next to me. I look at him, and I realize there isn’t any passion boiling hot under my skin either. The exhausting daily grind has taken its toll on me, too.

Levi is a good life partner. He works hard for our family and is a good father to the girls. I’m aware some women would do anything for the life I live and would judge me for focusing on what I don’t have instead of what I do.

I do appreciate him, and I don’t take him for granted, I assure myself.

I feel better, like a weight has been lifted.

For the rest of the week, I think about our upcoming date ten times a day.

Levi

Standing at the threshold of my garage door, I look out into the cold quiet. Heavy snowflakes fall straight to the ground, stark white against the black night. There’s no wind, only silent accumulation. I grab my shovel and begin pushing the even layer of four or five inches that’s piled up.

My brain draws a similarity between the imperceptible inching of snow and the subtle acceptance of circumstances that happen over time. I’m ashamed at the turn of events, and even more so that Mia’s revelation regarding our life together caught me off guard.

After all these years of sex being an afterthought, first for her and then, because of the gradual acceptance of how things were, for me, too, I’d stopped looking a long time ago for the signs and signals indicating Mia might be interested in returning back to sexual practices we shared before the twins were born.

Early on in our marriage, our love was incandescent, glowing hot and bright. Mia was the sun and, to my eyes, everything else paled to a dull gray in comparison to the vivid elation life held when she was near.

Our sex was explosive. With her, I felt completely safe exposing my somewhat shady and highly explicit sexual needs. She blindly followed my lead headlong into questionable and kinky practices, always open to anything I introduced to her.

Shit, my cock gets hard just remembering it. I stop to adjust myself before returning to my snow removal.

I smile at the memories rising to the conscious part of my brain. She was the perfect woman for me. But it was never the same between us after the girls were born. At first I waited, holding back and ignoring our sexual needs. Mia barely kept her head above water with twins and a full-time job. Back then I paid close attention, looking for any indication she was ready, anticipating the moment we’d return to the sizzling lust once burning between us.