Phobia (13 page)

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Please read on and enjoy this bonus short story:

~*~

A short story by Mandy White

Harold was a good husband. His mother taught him that a good husband should cater to his wife’s every whim. His father had left when he was two years old, so he didn’t have much basis for comparison. On her deathbed, his mother begged him to find a good woman and hold onto her.

“Promise me, Harry. Don’t chase after some bleach-haired floozy. Find a sensible woman who doesn’t sleep around and put a ring on her finger. Be a good husband. I want you to be taken care of.”

“I promise, Mama.”

True to his word, Harold ignored the flirtations of his lovely secretary, Linda, who was clearly waiting for him to ask her out. His mother would not have approved of Linda. She would have called her frivolous. Linda’s long, manicured nails, perfect makeup and unnaturally crimson hair meant she was a high-maintenance woman who probably spent all of her free time at the beauty salon. Personally, Harold wouldn’t have minded if his wife spent extra effort on her appearance, but he had made a promise to his mother. If nothing else, he was an honorable man who revered his mother above all others.

He met Bernice at a charity fundraiser. He was obligated to attend on behalf of his employer, and she was one of the volunteers. She was a solidly built woman; a little on the heavy side. Her angular face was free from makeup and her dishwater-blonde hair was twisted into a tight bun, without a single stray strand. Linda wore her hair up as well, but she always had a few loose strands wisping over her smooth, rouged cheeks. Mother would have approved of Bernice.

Harold proposed to Bernice after just two months of celibate dating, foregoing intimacy to consummate their marriage the way a proper husband and wife should.

The dream honeymoon he had planned didn’t turn out quite the way Harold hoped. He wanted Hawaii, but settled on Niagara Falls because Bernice felt it was more practical to drive a few hours away than spend all that money to fly over the ocean to a resort filled with starved bikini-clad sluts. Howard acquiesced, intent on pleasing his new bride. His spirits weren’t dampened much; the promise of sexual release made mere details like location unimportant.

The honeymoon proved to be a disappointment. After one obligatory roll in the hay, Bernice refused to let him touch her. Like a good husband, Harold respected her wishes, confident that she would warm up to him when she was ready. She took his credit cards and spent the entire week shopping, leaving Harold waiting patiently in the hotel room.

Weeks passed, then months, still with no intimacy. To compensate for his nonexistent sex life, Harold threw himself into his work, quickly climbing the corporate ladder and bringing home increasingly larger paychecks, like a good husband should. Bernice sat on the couch eating snacks, drinking gin and watching the Home Shopping Network, spending the money as quickly as he could earn it.

Harold did his best to please Bernice, but she was never happy. She rarely spoke to him without yelling. Not much of a cook, she insisted on being taken out to eat frequently, which he dreaded because she took every opportunity to humiliate him in public.

Harold was miserable, but never allowed his feelings to show. He endured Bernice’s abuse meekly, replying only when asked to.

“Yes, Dear. You’re right, Dear. Whatever you want, Dear,” became his mantra. He recited the words automatically, often without even hearing what she had said. He knew his mother would have been proud of him for being such a good husband.

He wanted out, but there were only two ways he knew of to get out of his miserable marriage: divorce or suicide. Neither seemed like a viable option. Divorce meant lawyer’s fees, a hefty settlement and alimony. If he committed suicide, Bernice would get to keep all of his money and possessions. It was win-win for Bernice, with Harold ending up the loser in both cases.

As the years passed, Harold’s desperation grew, as did Bernice’s waistline. His eyes had been wandering for some time; after all, he was a man, and only human. His secretary Linda grew lovelier the more he watched her, and he spent many afternoons with his office door locked while he satisfied his urges, imagining various scenarios involving the two of them.

One day, his fantasy came true. Preoccupied with the low-cut dress Linda was wearing, he had forgotten to lock his office door. He was on the verge of climax, eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy when the door opened and Linda walked in.

“Mr. Benson, I need you to sign these requisitions for…” She froze when she saw him, sitting at his desk with his pants wide open.

Harold scrambled to cover himself and recover whatever dignity he had left. Linda’s next stop would be Human Resources. He would be publicly humiliated and probably asked to resign. His career was over.

What happened next was unexpected.

“Can I help you with that?” she asked, voice dripping with honey.

Unable to speak, Harold merely nodded. Linda leaned back against the door, shutting it. He heard the lock click into place.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” she said, slipping out of her dress and letting it fall to the floor.

Every fantasy he’d ever had was about to come true. For one sickening moment, Harold was certain he was asleep and dreaming; that he would wake up just as she was about to touch him.

When Linda climbed onto his lap and made love to him, he didn’t wake up from a dream. He did, however, experience an awakening of another kind.

His affair with Linda continued, and as the months passed, Harold gradually felt his confidence returning. For the first time in his life he felt like a man. He accepted the possibility that his mother may have been wrong. Subservience didn’t make him a man. It made him a doormat. Standing up for what he believed in was the mark of a true man, and he believed that he wanted to be with Linda.

He made a decision. No more would he endure Bernice’s abuse. He would ask for – no – he would DEMAND a divorce that night.

* * *

Harold ducked to avoid the half-full tumbler of gin and tonic Bernice hurled at him. The glass exploded against the cupboard door behind where his head had been a second earlier.

“A divorce?” she screeched. Her cheeks flushed with alcohol-fueled fury. “Oh, you think so, do you? You think you’re just going to put me out on the street like some used-up old whore?”

“I believe you actually have to have sex to be considered a whore,” Harold said calmly. He never would have dreamed of speaking to her that way before. Now, he felt cool and confident. He was unafraid of her, and his new-found courage was liberating.

“What did you say to me?” Bernice roared, wobbling a bit in her drunken haze as she looked around for something else to throw at him.

“You heard me.”

“Well, let me tell you something, Mister Smartypants.” Bernice grabbed her bottle of Tanqueray and took a swig of straight gin. “It just so happens, I know a thing or two.”

“Do tell, 
Dear
.” Harold made sure he made ‘
Dear’
 sound anything but endearing.

“I know about your little affair with that slut in your office.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“DON”T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” she screamed.

“Calm down, Bernice. It’s quite simple. I don’t love you. I don’t know if I ever did. This marriage has been a sham from the beginning and I want a divorce. I’ll see that you’re well taken care of. I don’t think we have much else to discuss.”

“Oh yes, there is, you cheating bastard!” Bernice squinted, curling one side of her mouth into a sinister sneer. “I know. I know everything. About Linda, your little office grope-fests, those nights you were supposedly ‘working late’. A while back, I got an anonymous call from someone in your office. Someone cared enough about the sanctity of marriage to tell me what you were up to. I didn’t care much. If you were getting it from her, then you wouldn’t be always trying to put your perverted hands on me.”

“But I never…!” Harold protested, trying to quell the rage that boiled inside him. He had long ago given up making any attempts at intimacy with his wife. It was more peaceful just to leave her snoring away in her gin-soaked slumber.

“No, you never, did you? All these years, I’ve tried to make myself attractive to you, and you won’t so much as lay a finger on me!” She sniffled, tears forming at the corners of her bloodshot eyes. “I’m a woman, you know! I have needs too! Needs that a limp-dicked loser like you could never satisfy!”

Harold’s jaw hung slack as he struggled to comprehend her incredulous accusations. He had tried, Lord knew how hard he had tried to develop an intimate relationship with her early in the marriage, but she’d made it clear she did not want to be touched. Where was this coming from? Then all at once he knew. She was already preparing her case for divorce court. She planned to paint him as cold and neglectful and herself as the longsuffering victim of a loveless marriage.

“This is your response? To try and make it all my fault?”

“If it isn’t your fault, then whose is it? You’re the one who wants the divorce. After I wasted all of my best years on you!”

“Those were your best years? Then it’s a good thing I’m getting out now, because I don’t think I could handle the worst ones.”

“For better or for worse, I believe it was. But,” she waggled her bottle of gin at him. “I thought I’d better get some insurance, just in case. So I hired a private investigator. I have photos of your little love affair. Photos you aren’t going to want shown in court.”

A sudden chill gripped Harold’s gut, squashing the bravado he’d felt moments earlier. With proof of adultery she would assassinate him in court. He’d be left with nothing. Linda wouldn’t want to be with him if he was broke, he was sure of it. He needed to rethink his strategy.

“Bernice, Honey, let’s not be hasty.” He did his best to muster up some realistic-looking tears. “I’m sorry. I take back everything I said about not loving you. I was weak, I admit it, and I’m so sorry I hurt you. Please, Darling, forgive me. I’ll do anything to gain your forgiveness,” he wept.

“Anything?” Bernice was grinning now, a wide, cruel smile that stretched her already too-thin lips to the point where they almost disappeared.

“Anything you want, Dear. Haven’t I always been a good husband? Haven’t I always provided for you and given you everything you wanted? All I ask is you forgive me this one transgression. Tell me, Darling, how can I make it up to you?”

“Oh, it’s going to take me a while to make a list, but the first thing you’re going to do is fire that floozy you’ve been fooling around with.”

“Fire Linda?”

“You got a problem with that? Fire her tomorrow or I’ll call my lawyer.”

“Sweetheart, tomorrow is Saturday. The office is closed.”

“Then Monday, stupid! Do I have to do all the thinking around here?”

“Yes Dear, whatever you want, Dear.”

“That’s more like it,” she slurred. The gin was almost gone, and hopefully she would go to bed soon.

Harold’s mind reeled. He didn’t want to fire Linda, but he needed more time to think. How could he make the weekend last longer? Then he had it.

“Darling, I’m desperate to make it up to you. Why don’t we take a trip, just the two of us? Two weeks, anywhere you want to go. You can go shopping. We’ll eat someplace fancy every night. Please, I don’t want our marriage to end like this.”

“Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere.”

“What about work on Monday?”

“I’m an executive. I can take time off if I want to. I’ll just call in sick.”

“You are sick. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Dear. You’re right. I’m sick.”

“I know where I want to go. You’ve always refused to take me there.”

“Where?”

“Hawaii.”

Harold wanted to punch her right in the middle of that smug grin. She was the one who had refused to go to Hawaii, not him! But he gritted his teeth and gave her what he hoped was a sweet smile.

“Fine. Hawaii it is. I will make flight arrangements first thing tomorrow. Why don’t we get some sleep now, Dear?”

“Way ahead of you,” she mumbled, wobbling off toward the bedroom.

The last thing Harold wanted was to do was take a vacation with his shrew of a wife, but it was the only way he could think of to buy some time. He had successfully distracted her from demanding that he fire Linda on Monday. If he booked a Sunday flight, he would have the excuse that he’d have to wait until they returned to fire her. In the meantime, he would get a message to Linda, informing her of the recent developments and ask her to take care of business matters for him.

* * *