Sanity was slipping away, and I feared if I didn’t pass this the exam time around, I would turn into Gollum and wine would become “my precious.”
My mind wasn’t the only thing slipping away. Something had changed between me and Darren. He was no longer supportive and often complained when I went through my flash cards while in bed. This was the fifth or sixth time I’d flaked on him. For five months, I’d been working and studying, tasting and spitting nonstop. And in the process, I’d ignored Darren. There was a long, wide, tall invisible wall, and I was pretty sure if I kept at this, I’d never be able to scale it. This wasn’t about five months of regret; this was about three years. I had convinced him, and in the process, myself, that this time around would be different. I wouldn’t become this obsessed monster that didn’t have the time to talk.
I looked around downstairs. Darren wasn’t here.
No, he was here, either in our room or in the basement. His car was in the garage. Based on the sounds coming from upstairs, I made an educated guess. It was time to face the music. Dropping my heavy purse, leaden with notes and a half-empty bottle of wine that I needed to dissect—not now, obviously—I walked the green mile upstairs and took a sharp right to our room.
Darren sat in bed, his back against the headboard, Nintendo 3D-whatever in hand. The light was off, and he didn’t move when I opened the door. The light from the screen and from the computer monitor wedged in the corner of our room illuminated his face. The playful sounds from the Super Mario game didn’t detract from the heaviness in the atmosphere.
I turned on the light and leaned against the wall. He squinted his eyes a bit but still focused on the game. This was bad, really bad. Darren was a lot of things, but he was rarely frustrated or angry with me.
“Darren, I’m so sorry about tonight. I promise I—”
“Don’t promise,” he whispered. Finally, his brown eyes settled on me.
Licking my lips, I thought of something I could do to fix this mistake. Maybe I could cancel tomorrow’s study session and we could reschedule. “I can cancel tomorrow’s study group. We can do date night tomorrow?”
“No.”
“No?”
He paused the game. Silence flooded the room as his angry gaze burned my skin. “No. I hired a sushi chef to come over tonight. You didn’t answer, so I told him not to come. If you’re hungry, you can eat the rest of the pizza I warmed in the oven.”
I didn’t like this feeling. I was hot all over, like I was wearing a fur-trimmed jacket while drinking an enormous glass of Pinot Noir.
Tears pressed against my eyes, but I blinked them back. Tears wouldn’t help. I needed to fix this, fix us. But I didn’t know how. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“Keep your word,” he said, resuming his game.
I opened my mouth, but then I shut it, remembering what I’d learned when I joined the management team right after college. Underpromise and overdeliver. He needed action, but for now, he needed space.
“You’re mad,” I stated the obvious.
He didn’t respond.
“Shit. You know I’m no good at this. I’m sorry I get obsessed with these tests, but it won’t be forever.”
Still, he didn’t answer.
“I’ll sleep in the guest room.” I needed space from my guilt, from the heavy atmosphere in our bedroom. I moved toward the drawers and picked up a few things. This time the tears did fall, but it was okay. He was looking down and my back was facing him.
Heat warmed my back, and my body trembled. A strong, corded arm wrapped around my waist. I leaned back, my head cradled against his chest. His other hand gently moved my hair to the side. His woodsy, clean scent muddled my senses. Then he kissed my neck, so gentle, so reverent. Tears splattered against my chest. This was us. We didn’t need the words.
Soundlessly, I turned to face him, stood on my tiptoes, my hands against his abs, and leaned in for a kiss. Soft and sweet, but then it turned to more. Hungrily, we devoured each other’s lips. He tasted of Merlot, and I didn’t know if it was left over from the tastings I did earlier, but I wanted more. I needed the fuzzy, buzzy feeling to make me forget my regret. Groping my bottom, he lifted me into the air and then dropped me onto the bed. While he undressed and caressed me, I promised myself to study less and be a woman of my word.
* * *
I was running on fumes, studying and working and trying to be a decent wife. A few minutes ago, I was on my way home, but I rerouted to Sienna’s apartment. Tonight, the group wanted to do a show-and-tell to showcase what we’d been working on and provide critiques of our work. I didn’t have much to show for these days, just a stained tongue, bags under my eyes, and a bad attitude.
I sighed, remembering that Sienna’s townhome had limited parking and since I was late, I would most likely have to drive around the neighborhood to find parking. Today must’ve been my lucky day, because I found parking near the back, right by her apartment. I rushed inside to find the ladies were already there, gabbing about a show I was too tired and too busy to watch.
“Hey!” Nikki yelled, wine sloshing from her glass.
“Watch the couch!” Sienna yelled from behind me as we neared the den area.
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Girl, it’s leather.” She reached for a napkin and patted the seat dry.
“Now that you’re here, I’ve gotta bone to pick with you, Kara,” Raina shouted from the sofa.
I wanted to say “get in line” but instead, I shook my head and settled on the couch. “What did I do this time?” It didn’t take much to set Raina off.
“Why in the world did you like my ex’s picture on Facebook?”
I tilted my head. I didn’t even realize I’d done it. I must really be on fumes. “What picture?”
“The picture where Fernando is hugging his pregnant wife from behind. You can’t miss it. They both had their shirts off, looking like they’d struggle-swam in a vat of Palmer’s Cocoa Butter. The butter in a tub, not the squeezable lotion.”
“Because that level of detail is important,” Sienna deadpanned from the kitchen.
Nikki nodded as she sipped her wine and then smacked her lips. “It is. It’s a different level of greasy.”
“So why did you like his photo?” Raina pressed on. “Answer correctly or I’ll get Nikki to bring out Louella.”
Louella was a bat that Nikki had been carrying around in her trunk since forever.
“Why are you still his friend?” Nikki asked, in the same demanding tone.
I massaged my forehead. Was she seriously grilling me about Fernando? “You guys know I’m rarely on social media, and I didn’t realize we were still friends. As far as liking his pic, I didn’t realize I did. I must’ve clicked on the image by mistake. I don’t even remember what it looked like.”
Raina pulled out her phone. “Oh, I can show you, since your like came up on my feed.
“News flash, we don’t like anything from that greasy bastard,” Nikki said in a singsongy voice.
I sighed long and hard when Raina sat beside me. “Please, don’t.”
Ignoring my request, Raina shoved her phone in my face. Fernando and his bride did indeed look overly lubricated.