Foot in Mouth

Written for "Invalid Item"  (prompt in bold).

Her laughter broke the silence.  Fractured and mean, he’d never heard the like from her before.  “What’s the matter with you?” 

“All those late nights…?”

“Really?”  Her eyebrow quirked disbelievingly, sent shards of apprehension down his spine.  “You thought I’d use the oldest excuse in the book?”

There was hysteria in his voice.  He tried to stop himself from speaking but paranoia drove his forward.  “The shopping sprees?  The out-of-town meetings?  Your new boss?  You’re attracted to him, don’t deny it!” 

“And?  You’re attracted to the supermarket cashier.  I don’t think you’re having a hot and heavy affair every time you pick up milk.”

“But that’s different.  I don’t stay in the same hotel with her.” 

With that he’d gone and crossed the line.  Even he knew it.  Her eyes narrowed angrily.  Who'd have believed it come to this?

Simple as that he believed her.  Indignation that rattled your bones was hard to fake.  Too late, now that he’d stuck his foot in his mouth big time, to do anything but hope she wasn’t going to make him eat it. 

“Right, I forgot.  When I see an attractive married man, my panties come flying right off.  Obviously I have no self-control.  Because I haven’t managed to keep it in my pants for the entire ten fucking years we’ve been married.  Because I’m a tramp, and a homewrecker, just looking for a good time.”

Damn.  Lily never swore.  Her grandmother, a fierce woman in the old Southern Baptist style, really did wash out her mouth with soap.  So the fact that she was swearing now worried him. 

“Lily, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She was having none of it.  Hands on her hips in the universal female posture of ‘you’re so fucked now’, his wife lost it.  “You know what,” she hurled at him, “fuck you Jason.  It would serve you right if I did have an affair.”

Of course she wasn’t having an affair.  He knew that.  It wasn’t her style.  If she had a problem, she’d bring to him, not dick around behind his back. 

“Matter of fact, maybe I’ll call up Mr. Frederick fucking Deene.  Not handsome at all, but a managing partner.  Take him up on his offer.  You know how many times that bastard’s made a pass at me?  Insinuated that dropping my drawers would improve my chances for a raise?”

Lily hadn’t even processed his apology.  Reap what you sow, he thought, and kept quiet.  He’d wronged her and she needed to vent.  He didn’t even make the move to hug her, afraid she’d clock him.

“I got the morals of an alley cat, why the fuck not?  Is that what you’re saying?

After losing his job, the entire world seemed off-kilter.  There were so many hours of the day where nothing happened if you weren’t working.  Twenty-four hours felt like forty-eight when there was nothing to do but watch television and work out.  Six months of interviews and no callbacks had him riding the edge of insanity. 

“What can I say but I’m sorry Lily?  I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“You don’t even know how hurtful that is, what you just said.  God willing you never will.”

Things were going extremely well for her at work.  But that meant more hours, more out of town trips, more time for his mind to glom onto her success and twist it into ugliness. 

“It’s me Lily.  Ever since I lost my job…”

He’d been a machinist.  Steady work for a college dropout who liked working with his hands, but a dying field.  Computers were the next big thing, and people who could run them.  And he’d always meant to go back to school, finish his degree.  With one thing or another, it never happened. 

Lily was an educated woman, a paralegal with big dreams.  She probably would end up running her own law firm one day.  Ashamed to admit even to himself how inferior that made him feel, he’d turned it around on her.  Made it her problem.

“What?  You thought I’d leave you because you’re unemployed?  That’s a piss-poor fucking excuse to be an asshole.  I married you for better or worse.  Weren’t you paying attention?”  He longed to run his hands down her back, murmur soothing words into her skin.  It usually helped, when she got worked up like this.  “Can’t you see how that makes me feel?  Why your shit gotta be on me?”  The anger lanced, weariness took its place.  “I can’t talk to you right now.  I need some air, before I say something that can’t be taken back.”

“But Lily…”  He reached out to take her hand.  Winced when she pulled away.  Listen to the woman, he told himself.  This isn’t about you.  She needs space, give her space.  He’d have time enough to explain, to make her understand, after she calmed down.  Now wasn’t it. 

Clearing his throat he tried again.  “Ok.  I understand.  I’ll be here when you get back.”

She gave him a sad half-smile.  “I’m not sure I can forgive you.”  With that, she grabbed her coat off the couch, and left.  Not even a slam of the door on the way out.  If she wanted to him to feel her despair, she’d succeeded. 

He sank deeper into the love-seat, head in his hands, and fought the urge to cry.  Dear God, she had to forgive him.  What a world without Lily would look like, he couldn’t imagine.  Or imagine living in. 



word count: 919