(plaintively) Please review, readers! (Anonymous reviewing enabled)
Tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, tell me you're apathetic.
Tell me it gave you ennui.
Tell me it's even more entropic than the last one, as if that's possible.
Just please, please, please tell me SOMETHING!
I acknowledge every one.
I'd thought things were pretty damn near perfect until the afternoon I came home from work and walked in on some uniformed bitch kissing my husband, one arm tight around his neck, the other clutching his waist fiercely.
Instantly irate, I failed to notice whether the hands he had on her waist were pulling her in or pushing her away.
"Looks like we still have some impulse control issues." I said, slamming the door. Maurice jumped a little and gave the woman a hard shove that sent her stumbling backward.
Rage. A purely visceral reaction I'd never felt before. Instead of trying to check it, hold it back, I just let it go.
Her black eyes narrowed and she gave me a sly, competitive, malicious smile. She ran her tongue across her lower lip. To provoke me. I didn't need provoking.
"Honey, don't even. I've got at least four inches on you. And guns and uniforms don't intimidate me."
"Whoa there-" Maurice started to say. We both ignored him, eyes locked.
She squared herself, hands on her hips. "Does prison?" She countered, making me want to pull her shiny black Pantene hair right out of her head.
"It would be so worth it." I glared down at her, unblinking, inches from her face. "Yeah, that's right, I skipped 'denial' and went right to 'anger'." Never in my life had I felt such fury. The only thing keeping me from physical violence was the fact that my children were in the next room.
"Kate, you don't have to-" Maurice tried to grab my arm and I shook free viciously, my eyes never leaving hers.
"Shut up. I'll deal with you in a minute. Right now I have to gouge her eyes out with my thumbs." The urge to actually do it was irresistible. I couldn't think of the last time I'd been this irrational.
"Kate, it's not-" he began, and I swung around, interrupting.
"Are you about to tell me 'it's not what it looks like'?" I asked, incredulous. "That line is second only to 'He was alive when I left, Detective.' Words I cannot swear I won't be repeating to an actual Detective tomorrow morning!"
"It's not-"
"Get out."
The woman started moving toward the door.
"Not you, sweetheart. You and I need to exchange insurance information so I know who to call after I wreck you." Considering what Maurice would have done had the situation been reversed, I felt I was being quite reasonable.
I turned back to him. "Really? With the kids here? God, get the hell out."
"They're napping." He said lamely.
"Yeah. That makes it better."
"I wasn't-"
We both turned as the door clicked shut softly. She'd slipped out while my attention was on him. I hadn't gotten her name but the shiny little '79' on her collar told me where I could find her.
Maurice started to say something yet again and I cut him off.
"You'd better catch up with your girlfriend. You're going to be late for work. Again." That was mean, petty and totally irrelevant. Where was my logic?
"Kate, listen-" he reached to grab me by the arms and I shoved his hands away.
"Do you really think you're going to find words that will fix this?"
"When I get home-" he glanced at the clock.
"Don't expect us to be here." I stated abruptly, and turned to go check on Amanda and Mikey.
There aren't too many couples who can point to an exact moment when their marriage went to hell.