Another Time, Another Place
“Why are you doing this?” Ariel asked. “I’ve done nothing to deserve your hostility.”
Steven’s assault stopped for a moment. “You’ve made me feel as though I don’t know how to take care of your needs. Maybe I’m not good enough or maybe you were fantasizing about your secret lover as you stared into the mirror.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I have no such person.”
“Devin Alexander,” Steven spoke confidently.
“Now you’re being totally ridiculous. Devin recently got married. He has never looked twice at me since we split up,” Ariel said. She sensed her husband was about to rebut her statement. “Before you say it, that night at The Drink, Devin was winking at his date. Not me.”
“Yeah right!”
“This conversation is too damn old. I have to tell you the same thing every time you get a hair up your ass.”
“I don’t have a hair up my ass. You shouldn’t step on my manhood by finger-fucking yourself immediately after we have sex.”
“Your manhood, this is what’s angered you? Haven’t you ever jacked off before?” Ariel raged.
“Plenty of times,” Steven quickly answered. “But, never directly after being with a woman.”
“It doesn’t matter. You having to stroke yourself when women are available should threaten your manhood.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Nor should me masturbating.”
Steven swung his pillow at Ariel’s head again. She protected her head with her pillow and simultaneously drowned out most of the second round of verbal abuse. She cried under the concealment of the pillow, very much confused by what she’d done wrong.
FIVE
April carefully slid under the covers; she hoped not to disturb Virgil. The foolish notion made her chuckle because her husband was in full snore mode. She laid on her side, watched flashes of light dance outside through the bow window and wished that each flash would damper the sound of Virgil’s snore. She hugged the pillow tightly around her head; used it as a gigantic earplug. Oddly, the same eeriness consumed her. April opened her eyes to the darkness, as if that would aid her understanding of why the moment felt familiar to her.
I’ve been here before, she thought.
The premonition bothered her because the notion came with the belief that the experience was something unpleasant. The weary thoughts kept her awake for hours. Ultimately, the body grew tired and she fell asleep just before sunrise. The next morning when Virgil removed the pillow from her head, she woke tired, her face was clammy from sweating, and her damp hair was matted in place like a wet curl.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Virgil apologized. “Was my snoring unbearable last night?”
Realistically, Virgil was a good man. He provided a daydream life for her. April’s needs were met and her wants were never questioned. She was a pampered, placed-on-a-pedestal, stay-at-home wife, so dealing with a snoring issue uncontrollable by her spouse was easy. Years ago, she decided it was pointless to make him feel bad about it.
“No…it was nothing more than usual,” April said, responding to his question. “The constant thundering had more to do with it,” she lied. “You and the storm combined aren’t the best lullaby to fall asleep to.”
Virgil smiled.
“That was a pretty nasty storm,” he said.
“You slept through the worst part. It got crazy out there for a good wh
ile. I’d swear that lightning struck somewhere in our yard.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t play human lightning rod and watch the storm from the bed.”
Virgil glanced out of the window. The rain continued to fall, but with far less intensity than the downpour of the previous night.
“I believe the forecast calls for more thunderstorms tonight,” Virgil spoke. “Maybe you should try earplugs tonight?”
“That may not be a bad idea.”
Moments later, the aroma of bacon filled the air. April was in automatic mode when she prepared their morning breakfast. The meals varied, yet she remained efficient. The only difference between weekday and weekend meals was that she awakened naturally without an alarm clock. She placed Virgil’s plate on the table, sat across the table and they began eating breakfast.