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Barrett
Great. The typical sign ofgo awayfrom Tess as I’m trying to fall asleep. Just fabulous. Little brat. She knows how much it pisses me off when she just flips over and ignores me. This also means tomorrow morning is going to suck ass. Waking up the day after a fight is the worst. I really don’t get how we got here. Not just tonight. Tonight has become something both of us are all too familiar with, though. I realize I could haul my ass out of the bed and get Harper back into her own bed, lay down the law, and tell her that she needs to keep her cute little butt in there, I also know that it won’t make a difference. She’ll still prefer her mom over me in the middle of the night. She’ll still weasel her way back in here somehow, someway, at some time. And I’ll still be frustrated. With both of us. Or, all three of us. We’re exhausted and letting her rule our lives.
Tess used to show up at my work at the most random times. She brought me a soda or a coffee and something from one of the bakeries. She surprised me with my favorite meal and served it to me in just an apron; dessert was always first on those nights. We slept in on Saturdays, went for walks on Sunday afternoons. She snuggled up to me on the couch rather than lying in one of the kids’ rooms at night and falling asleep.
She sometimes called a family member and found a place for the kids to spend the night so we could have a night in alone and always kissed me goodbye in the morning. Not the distracted type of kiss. The type of kiss that turned into more, or showed me what her plans were for that night.
We used to talk. Not just about the kids’ schedules, what was happening at work, or house stuff. We found more about our lives to talk about. We had each other to focus on, to love on.
Lately what I receive is barely a peck on the cheek and a mumble goodbye as she shuttles herself and the kids out the door for school. I don’t remember the last time we’ve had dessert first, or she’s surprised me at work just to say hi. I don’t remember the last time she made my favorite meal, and I don’t remember the last time she listened when I put on music, which used to be the only cue she needed to know that I wanted to dance with her under the stars.
What’s worse, though, is that I don’t remember the last time I made an effort either. For all the sweet things she’d do for me, I’d return the favor. Now, though, I’m in my own little world and I’ve become selfish. This has to stop. I’m not willing to continue to accept this as our normal.
I love my wife, but I miss her.
Chapter Four
Barrett
“What’s up your ass today, man?” my partner Josh asks me in an equally irritated voice.
Do I tell him I haven’t gotten any from my wife in what feels like forever? He’s my best friend. Well, aside from Tess. But since Tess and I lately can’t seem to have a conversation that doesn’t either lead to arguing over just about anything or involve the house or the kids, I don’t really have room to be picky about who I divulge my horniness –—or the fact that Tess and I are just off — to. Although, I suppose Tess should, in concept, be the one who knows about it first.
“I’m so damn horny!” I blurt out like a teenager, last night’s epic distraction still playing on repeat in my mind. Not to mention how pissed off I was that Tess even insinuated that Keri was anything but an employee. I decide to keep that part to myself and allow Josh to focus on the fact that I can’t seem to get any with Tess. And like a good friend does, Josh laughs. Hard. No, he wheezes, and I’m pretty sure he spits out the soda he just took a drink of. “Shut up, prick! You have no idea what it’s like right now! We don’t have a moment alone, and I need more than five minutes!”
Josh is still laughing, granted, at least now he can talk. He takes a deep breath and makes a big show of blowing it out slowly while wiping the tears from his eyes. Then he adds in some ludicrous hand gestures — insinuating that I jerk off and take care of business on my own — which causes him to start cackling at himself, of course. I start laughing because he’s such a jerk, and if the situations were reversed, I’m sure I would be doing the same.
We’re sitting in our shared office, each behind our own desks that face each other. When we started our business together fifteen years ago, we were young and cocky, thinking we had the contracting business by the tail. We had worked for a local contractor for a few years and decided we wanted to try to make a go of it on our own. The first seven years were rough. Financially, emotionally… it was a strain on everything, but we’ve made it a successful business over the years and truly love what we do. When we first started up, we each wanted our own office, each trying to stake our claim as king. We soon realized that if we wanted to work together and make joint decisions, sharing an office was a necessity. It was the best decision we ever made. Surprisingly, we don’t get sick of each other either.
I throw a pen across my desk at him, which hits him square in the chest. “Screw off, man. I don’t want my own damn hand. I’m married for shit’s sake. I don’t use my own hand anymore unless she’s involved and doing...”
He holds his hand up and stops laughing abruptly. “I’m gonna stop you right there. I’ve known Tess as long as you have, and she’s like a sister to me, so I don’t need detail on your sexcapades.”
“Or lack thereof,” I grumble.
“Barrett,” Josh says, his tone suddenly serious. He leans his elbows on the desk and looks at me with worry. “What’s going on? Are you guys okay? Tell me you are or I’m going to lose all faith in marriage because fuck…”
“I don’t know.” I stand up and rake my fingers through my hair. “Dammit! When did I turn into a chick and talk to you about this instead of my wife?”
“Um… apparently when you grew a vagina and stopped getting any?”
“Argghh!” I stomp out of the office toward the back room, but not before kicking the trashcan in our office for good measure. I didn’t realize how frustrating this was to me until this very moment. We have a couple of boxing punching bags set up in the back of the shop area for this purpose. Well, not this purpose exactly — the sexually frustrated part. The rationale behind our idea to have punching bags is because the guys tend to be, well, guys, and sometimes need something to take their mind off whatever is bothering them, and this is it for most of us.
I quickly change into some basketball shorts and tape up my hands with gear I keep in my office for such occasions. I take all my frustrations and aggression out on the punching bag, remembering Tess questioning me about Keri and our lack of closeness lately. I still can’t believe that she accused me of anything with my office manager. The more I think about it the more pissed off I get. I have to remind myself of our morning talk before I get too worked up again.
“Barrett, I’m so sorry for last night. I guess I was just feeling a bit vulnerable or something. I know you. I know you’d never do anything with another woman, emotionally or physically. It’s just — we haven’t been ourselves lately, and I can’t decide if it’s because of our lack of a sex life or if we were drifting apart first,” Tess admits with a hitch in her voice. She has tears built up in her eyes, and a few trail down her cheeks.
I pull her close and hug her tight. I hate seeing her cry, hate seeing her upset for any reason. I’m glad to hear her apologize to me for accusing me of what, I don’t know — but it is still hard to hear. I must have donesomethingto put that thought or fear into her mind.
“I don’t know either, pretty girl, but we can’t fall apart. I can’t have you questioning my every move. Trust me? And even more than that, trust what your heart is really telling you, not what you’re letting your imagination conjure up.”
“I know. And I do trust you. I promise.”
Hearing her say that allows me to be able to breathe easy again. I hate it that she even had those thoughts flitter through her mind, but knowing she trusts me and isn’t questioning that anymore makes it better.
“We need time together,” I say, even though she obviously already knows it.
She sighs deep and heavy, and the sadness hasn’t really left her face, which bothers me beyond words. “I agree,” she says but is interrupted from saying anything else by the kids coming into the kitchen ready to start their day. Of course.
