Four months

“You’re a moron!” she buries her face deep within the pillow and scoots as far away from you as possible. You shimmy over to her, like the good comforting boyfriend you are, and wait for another response.

“Babe?” you whisper.

Nothing.

Not even a ‘Fuck you’

And somehow this hurts more.

“C’mon, I just never found the right-“ she sits upright, smacking hard into your bare chest and nearly knocking you off the bed. Accidentally, maybe, but you don’t think Annie does anything by accident.

“What?!” if she’d let you finish in the first place she would know by now.

“Found the right what? Anthony Mathew Harper” she hollers. Ohh full name usage, not nice! Only your mother calls you Anthony. Scooting back over to your side of the bed, you’re now very aware that you’re not wearing any trousers and that Annie has open access to punch whatever she feels should the need arise.

“Time. I couldn’t just come out with it, it didn’t seem right.”

“How long have you known?”

Oh shit!

“Aboutfourmonths” you mumble into your chest.

“…Four months! Four fucking months!”

Scoot a little more.

“For four months you’ve made me feel like some dirty little secret, like I was breaking up a marriage and all this time you’ve been divorced?” her hands are flailing around all over the place and she’s close to ‘accidentally’ smacking you ‘round the back of the head, a lot like your mother did when you were young, accompanied by her calling you Anthony.

“I would have told you but recently you’ve been a…” careful now, calling her a crazy bitch may not go down too well.

“- bit sensitive.” Nicely done.

“So that gave you permission to lie?”

“Technically it was more of an omission”

Oh fuck!

You swear you can see her pupils dilate and that little vein in the top of her forehead pulsate.

Scoot a little more, so much so you fall off the bed and hit the floor with a thud. You bounce back up quickly for fears that if you stay down too long Annie’s likely to try and push something heavy on top of you. You dust off your boxers. You’re not hurt, well not physically, you feel your dignity may have taken a bit of a bashing.

“Well technically you’ll be sleeping on the couch!” you can’t help it but your face just switches onto the puppy dog look. Eyes all wide and innocent and your bottom lip protruding so far in a pout you’re sure she can see the bottom row of your teeth.

“But baby…” hold your hands out in front of you, submissively.

“NO! You arsehole, you lied to me. You… you…. Harper!” somehow she manages
to turn your surname into an insult. You can imagine it now, kids all over the playground will be using it, saying to there friends ‘Dude, you’re such a Harper’ It will be used in place of such words as ‘Twat’ or ‘Wanker’.

“But-“ one last plea.

“Go!” she points to the door, her face screwed up in a scowl. You huff and rummage around on the floor, searching for a T-shirt or a pair of trousers at least. With no luck, you settle on a dressing gown you have hanging from the back of your door.
You turn and face her, puffing out your chest and standing up straight (coz you’re manly like that) and utter the first words that come to your head.

“I’m sorry” when her facial expression still doesn’t change, you give up. Upon leaving you mutter something about how crap it is that you’re getting kicked out of your own bedroom by someone who is 12 years your junior and just before the door shuts she launches your bed side lamp at the adjacent wall, the bedroom falling into darkness.

“I said I was sorry!” you yell behind you as you trot down the stairs.

You jiffle from side to side, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy couch whilst you evaluate the situation. Annie’s mad at you because you don’t have a wife anymore?
Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, the chick gets mad at you because she finds out you’re married?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, what’s done is done and you’re going to be stuck on the couch for a long time because Annie’s still pissed at you and your bedroom has three more lamps.