It doesn’t startle her to hear the bathroom door open when she’s showering and she opens her mouth to send whichever child it is right back to bed when his grown up voice surprises her. “Mind if I join you?” and the admonition dies there in her throat. But she does mind. She doesn’t want to share the warm water and she won’t get anything done with him in there. And it’s her fifteen minutes. Fifteen glorious minutes where nobody needs her to be anything she isn't.
But she says “Sure.” and he’s already stepping in. She pulls her face out of the water to ask “Did you have a good time?” but she doesn’t turn around. She starts shampooing her hair.
“Played some pool.” He starts helping lather her hair from behind, suddenly taking her hair in his fist and pulling a little, forcing her to step back against him so he can speak directly into her ear. “I ran into your friend.” Her head’s angled with her neck exposed and she notices the cobwebs in the corner near the ceiling that need cleaned.
“That’s nice. How was she?” she shuts her eyes and holds her breath when his other hand goes to her neck as though she is his hand and can breathe or not at will but instead he traces an imaginary line with his thumb from her ear to the place where her heart jumps involuntarily.
“It was kind of funny. She said she didn’t see you on Thursday.” he’s pressing in behind her and she realizes this is foreplay of some kind.
“Yeah. She’s been taking extra shifts at work.” She turns out of his embrace measuring her breaths and backs into the spray, reaching up to run her hands through her hair and rinse the shampoo out before putting in conditioner.
“I told her I would have to give you a hard time about that.” he grabs his soap and starts lathering without taking his eyes off her face.
“Well I hope you didn’t rub it in that she missed out.” She can’t decide if his word choice is intentional, if he knows she’s shadowing him and tries to squeeze whatever is left from a baby wash bottle.
“and Friday? Was she working on Friday night?”
Finally, she gets tired of the predictable pace of the game and looks him dead on. “How should I know? Friday I was fucking somebody else.” and she waits for him to laugh but he doesn't. So she shoves him playfully hard into the wall behind him but the humor falls with two or three soap bottles near their bare feet and the ridiculousness of the difference in their strength makes it an invitation. He grabs her wrists and even the suds sliding over her skin don't offer any relief from his grip.
“I think you missed a spot.” he transfers both wrists into one hand so he’ll have the other free to show her where he feels neglected and she's free to ponder her missing spots. She wont miss them anymore if she can help it.
No comments:
Post a Comment