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1
Ava
“Wouldyou like to buy some lemonade, Ms. Wall?” Simon, the lively seven-year-old shouts even though I’m only a few feet away from him. I slap a half-smile on my face, and reach into my bag. Shit. I meant to stop by the ATM, but after leaving the office I ran to the mall to buy a sexy nightgown, and ended up forgetting about the rest of my errands.
“I don’t want to write you a check for fifty cents,” I say to Simon, the little boy who’s on his way to be a successful entrepreneur. Unlike most lemonade stands, his has a few different flavored glass bottles, with their flavors neatly written in a small piece of paper in front of each of them. I also don’t want to Venmo his mom fifty cents. “How about if I pay you tomorrow?”
He grins. “Tomorrow, it’s a dollar.”
“Smarty pants. I’ll have your dollar tomorrow,” I say, and pick up one of the paper cups. He reminds me that he knows where I live in a playful way, or at least that’s how I take it. I’m assuming a seven-year-old wouldn’t stalk me or break in to get his buck back.
I sip on the overly sweet juice, pretending to drink it as I punch in the code to get into my house. The familiar scent of leather, Pine Sol on the hardwood and a hint of lemon swirls around me, welcoming me home.
I toss my briefcase on the chair, mentally erasing all the problems from the ad agency where I work from my mind. Walking up to the kitchen, I glance at the takeout menus on the fridge, and wonder if I should order Chinese or if my husband will remember today’s our anniversary.
We have been married for four years, and in the first three, Jack sent me flowers at work. This year, he didn’t.
A lot has changed.
My throat feels tight and dry. I swallow, reach for the cupboard and grab a glass. After chugging down some water, I sprint to the second floor, striding into the master suite. The cleaning lady left our room spotless, with fresh sheets on the four-poster bed.
After a quick shower, I slip into the nightgown I bought. The maroon brings out my hazel eyes, and accents the natural tan of my skin. A deep V cut makes the curves of my breasts swell, and besides the slit on the front, it’s almost sheer on the back, showing my naked ass.
A thrill of excitement charges through me, getting me all excited, like I haven’t felt in a long time. Precisely, four months. It’s been four months since we last had sex, and every day I feel Jack slipping away from me.
I clutch the sides of the nightgown, creasing them a little, and look at the reflection in the mirror. Sure, I run four miles every day to keep in shape, but there’s something about me that’s different than before. I lack that grace, that impulsivity so natural in the first year of dating.
In our case, we dated two years before he proposed.
A chime from the front door announces his arrival, startling me, yanking me from my thoughts. Tonight, we’re celebrating our anniversary. We’re taking our marriage back.
I’ve found porn in his cell phone. I know what he’s into—dirty sex between a man and a woman. Hell, I’m into that too. So why does he act like he doesn’t want it with me?
You know why, a little voice inside me whispers with the malice of a poisonous snake.Because I cheated on him.I had a platonic affair, exchanging texts and nudes with an out-of-town guy I met through work. I had just lost my mother, and wanted to self-destruct. Thankfully, I stopped before going all in. But Jack, even though he forgave me… hasn’t looked at me the same way ever since. Tonight, I’m changing it. I either save my marriage, or leave for good.
2
Jack
I tossthe keys in the overpriced wooden bowl. A lump clogs my throat, and I swallow, loosening the collar of my shirt before it gets too tight. A picture of a happy couple, us on our wedding day, stands next to the bowl.
Looking around the living room, I search for Ava, and even if she’s not there physically, I feel her presence. Smell her feminine scent in the room, a fragrance that brands the space everywhere she goes. A smell I’ll never forget, even when I’m old and senile.
I rub the back of my neck, and head to the bathroom to change into workout clothes. It’s early in the evening, and bench pressing will help me clear my head. The last few months haven’t been easy—a part of me wants to soothe Ava for having lost her mother, her best friend. And another feels like leaving her, after she obviously gave up on us by engaging in an affair and breaking our vows. Breaking my trust.
I fly up the curvy staircase, the house seems bigger in size. When I make it to our suite, the recessive lights aren’t on. A number of candles occupy the floor, the top of the dresser, the nightstands. The low melody of a known bossa nova song plays in the background, making me even more curious. I remove my jacket, and place it on the chair, then walk around.
“Ava?”
She comes from the bathroom, wearing a maroon gown that hugs her delicious body. A trying smile plays at her lips, but the message in her pretty eyes is transparent—she wants to fuck.
I’ve wondered for how long she’d hold out. We always screwed a lot, but as a punishment I’ve been avoiding any sexual contact with her. I couldn’t allow her to have pleasure when she hurt me so deeply.
I could have cheated on her, had innumerous occasions where women gave me their phone numbers in work functions or social settings. Betraying Ava and our vows never crossed my mind, and neither had the idea of sleeping with another woman.
“I was thinking…” she started, erasing the distance between us. “Today’s our anniversary.”
Anniversary.
