ReBoot (MAC Security 4)

Seeing it’s overflowing, I take a deep breath and decide that I should do a load of laundry so I can put this conversation off for a few more minutes. I pick up the basket and carry it downstairs, walking through the kitchen and into the laundry room.

“Babe?”

“Just doing the laundry, be there in a second,” I call back through the house as I place the basket on top of the counter.

I sort our clothes into piles of whites and darks—how can a family of two have so much laundry in so few days?—picking up a few of Gerry’s work shirts and scrunching up my nose as I do. An odd smell lingers on them, but I’d know it a mile off—perfume. It’s not my perfume, but it’s definitely a perfume smell.

I’m about to put it down to him being around a lot of female students when he barrels into the room, ripping the shirts out of my hands. “I’ll do the laundry, you go and sit down. Go and relax.”

I take the shirts out of his hands and open the washing machine. “No, the last time you did a load you turned all the whites gray.” I chuckle but it teeters off as I frown at the sodden shirt in the bottom of the machine. “You really need to treat this before it gets washed if you’ve stained—”

I pick it up, my head spinning as I stare at the red smear on the collar.

“Harm, I can explain.”

I stare between him and the shirt, my mind instantly stopping all of the excuses it was making for him in the split second it took for him to say those words. Those words mean that there is something to explain, and not a simple explanation either. The heaviness of the words made it sound like I’ll need to sit down for the blow he’s about to deliver.

I storm past him, slapping the wet shirt against his chest as I do. I hear it drop to the floor as he follows me, trying to grasp my hand on the way into the kitchen. I pull it away from him and lean against the counter, my head hanging as I try to control my breathing. This can’t mean what I think it means, it must be a coincidence.

“She doesn’t mean anything,” he says like he’s heard my inner thoughts.

My hands resting against the countertop grip the edges harder, my knuckles turning white as I turn toward him in fury. “What are you saying?”

I need to hear him say it out loud.

He grips his hair and blows out a deep breath. “I was so mad at you, it’s no excuse but… she was there and—”

He walks toward me so I hold up my hand, cutting off his advance. “Don’t you dare come near me!”

“Harm—”

“No! I don’t want to hear your excuses!” My heartbeat is deafening in my ears. “You were mad at me, so you what? Kissed someone?” His head snaps to the floor. “Oh my God, you slept with someone.”

“I—”

“Who is she?” He shakes his head. “Who is sh

e!” I shout when he doesn't answer me right away.

“Just a colleague, she’s a nobody. I swore after the first time—” He stops what he’s saying, realizing what he’s admitted to.

“It was more than once?” His distraught face isn’t a patch on what I’m feeling as he winces and nods. It’s like a slam to the chest, a physical blow delivered by his words. “Well, you’ve just made this a hell of a lot easier for me.”

I storm out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Gerry following me and watching as I pull two suitcases out of the closet.

“What are you doing, Harm? Don’t be so irrational.”

“Irrational?” His head turns away for a split second before turning back to me. “Do you know what? I’m not even having this conversation. We’re done,” I spit out at him.

“Done? What do you mean, ‘done’?”

“I mean exactly what I said, Gerry. This…” I point between us both. “Isn’t working anymore. You don’t respect me and you constantly put me down. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I wanted to somehow make you realize how resented I feel. I thought I could try and get out of you what I’m doing so wrong that would make you act the way you do toward me. But none of that matters now.”

“How I act toward you? We’ve not had sex in over two months, you hardly want to touch me. How’s that for feeling inadequate!”

“Because of the way you’ve been making me feel!” I shout, my chest heaving. “Why would I want to be physical with you when you treat me like trash the majority of the time?” He’s silent, not saying a word back as we stare at each other. I scoff and throw a pile of clothes into the suitcases, not caring that they’re getting wrinkled. “We weren’t having sex so you went elsewhere. That shows how much our relationship means to you.”

“It was just a kiss the first time,” he says as if that makes it perfectly okay.