The Working Class: On Romance

         “How was your day? Did they come through with your new raise policy?” Chris asked his wife while he placed his wallet, watch and keys on the same corner of the dresser as he had for the past eight years.

         She was buried deep into their walk in closet and he knew that at that exact moment she would have placed her blouse on a coat hanger and was unzipping her dress skirt. “No,” She groaned and sounded as though she were talking to him from the back of a cave. “Harris is still dragging his feet on making a decision. I swear if he doesn’t get his secretary off of his desk and replace her with some paperwork I’m going to complain to corporate. It’s getting ridiculous.”

         When he told her that she should “Just be patient, He’s new at the whole management thing. The novelty will pass and I’m sure he’ll get to work,” They had moved into the bathroom and were hovering over a his and hers sink that he had put in the year before.

         “I can wait,” She gurgled through a mouthful of toothpaste. She spit. “But I’m not sure the rest of the company can. He’s already screwed the pooch on the deal with Vizco, and middle management is getting sick of waiting for his approval.” She left the bathroom and flicked off the light, before realizing he hasn’t finished. “Sorry.” 

She slipped one of his old sweatshirts over her head and began rummaging through the dresser for her flannel pajamas. Chris grabbed them out of a stack of folded laundry and tossed them to her. “Thanks.” She lifted one leg at a time, making no ceremony of it.

         Instead of watching her thighs while she pulled the band up and snapped it around her hips, he crawled into his side of the bed and retrieved a book from the end table.  He didn’t even glance up when Lettermen crackled to life on the set at the foot of the bed.

         “Carrie got her spelling test back today. An A+, she was pretty excited about it.”

         “That’s great. Does Harris even realize that everyone under me blames me? I mean, at least Suzan gets some lube when he screws her.”

         “She put it on the fridge, hoping you’d see it when you got home. You should say something to her in the morning.” Chris leaned over and kissed his wife’s forehead, feeling her brow relax. He put his book down, folded into a little tent to mark his spot, and sat up straight, his hands massaging her shoulders. “Don’t let it get to you.”

         She leaned back and kissed the curve of his jaw. “Did you call your parents?” She said, her lips pressed against his.           

His hands were on her back, lifting her off the mattress and helping her legs around him. “Yeah, Josh is alright, but they pushed the party back a week. You’re still good to go, right?” Her hair tickled his face while she pushed layers of cloth out of the way. She sighed and slid onto him.

         “My memo is probably still on his desk waiting for him to even read it. But he can go to hell, I put it in almost three weeks ago.” She planted her hands on his chest and started rotating her hips, breathing heavy.

         In the background Lettermen took a shot at republican politics.

         He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Carrie will miss her field trip, and she won’t be happy about it. But it’s ok, we’ll make it up to her.” His hands found her hips and held her while he laid her back onto the bed. Their eyes met and he asked, “What do you think about a day trip to the falls?”

         She smiled. “I’d like that.” When she tried to say something else, her voice caught in her throat and she bit her lip instead, letting her eyes close. They let the conversation fall to soft moaning and mindless responses.

         Chris sighed and slumped off of her, resting back into his depression in the mattress. “Who will watch Gutsy when we go?”

         “I talked to Vikki, she’s ok with staying here.” He spoke through deep breaths.

         “That’s good.” She reached over and turned off the lamp.

         In the moments after the glow of the TV dies and silence of night sets in she got his attention. “Babe?”

         “Yeah?”

         “I love you.”

         They’re each nestled between the comforters that have been on their bed for years, in the grooves that their weight has cut into the mattress. His hand crawled through the blankets and to find hers resting on her stomach, where he knew it would be.

         “I love you too.” He whispered while his fingers tangled into hers.