Your Cheatin’ Heart
Concerned. That’s what I am. I am concerned. In the middle of the night, I awake to find myself in a barren wasteland of a bed, alone. At first, I tried sleeping in the middle to keep his side warm for MTM, but he is always gone too long. His moods are shifty when he returns. Sometimes, he flops on his side, asleep on contact, contentment pulsating from his aura. If he isn’t happy, I wake up to snatches of garbled incoherence, his sleeping brain whispering about timing, oooooooooooooo and the number four or five. He slices through the sheets on those nights, shifting and sighing through the insomniac dance of the unsatisfied.
Nighttime isn’t the only worrisome spot in our formerly harmonious household. One night last week, he walked into the house from work, forgot to kiss me, and vanished into the bathroom for seventeen minutes. I heard him muttering in there, followed by a moan, a squeal and a lightning flush of the toilet. He emerged, face red and eyes spinning in their sockets, and hummed with a stupid grin on his face while assembling our dinner. Before anything was plated, he visited the bathroom again.
Are you sick? I asked through the bolted door. I mean, you don’t need to make dinner if you’re not feeling well I continued, hopeful.
I’m fine he said with a distracted air. Can you stir the risotto?
I stomped back to the kitchen, seasoning the bubbling rice with simmering resentment. This cannot go on I said to myself.
Only, I must’ve muttered it out loud, because MTM was standing right beside me, cradling my iPad, his face blooming with an ecstatic grin.
She thought she’d beaten me at Words With Friends. Triple-word ‘qi’ -ha! She will be sorry she EVER challenged me to a scrabble-like word game. I will destroy her. Your mother will NEVER vanquish me! HA-hahahahahahahaha!
My mother went on to win that game.
MTM has been in the bathroom or awake in the middle of the night ever since. He won’t let it happen again.