Straightening the photo frame. Re-positioning the flowers in the vase. That photo frame still isn't quite right. The place-mats need to be perfectly straight, one at Ryder's end of the table, one at mine. Those candles aren't quite right, the pillows on the sofa. Re-arrange the books in alphabetical order, I tell him to put them back but does he ever? No. Again with that photo frame, that photo frame that depicted a happier time, two years ago when everything was perfect. His keys aren't on the hook, they need to be and those papers on his desk.
Walking around the house I check that everything is in perfect order, but there is always something, how can there always be something if I'm always fixing it? I don't understand. I arrange all the pens on his desk so that they are in order by height, in a perfect line, all the ends in the same place, it makes me feel slightly better. Stacking everything neatly I push the chair in, turning it so it's straight and level. I sigh closing the door behind me.
Wiping down the kitchen bench until it's perfect. Arrange the fridge magnets so they're in perfect straight lines. I make sure the blinds are in the right place and exactly straight. I turn the table ever so slightly, the centre was somewhat off, that means I have to push the chairs in again. Only two of those chairs were ever used, I wanted one more to be loved by someone I love and look after, which is why everything has to be perfect for when she comes.
I reset all the cups and glasses in the cupboard, then close the glass front, my finger leaves a smudge. I stand up prepared to reach for a tissue to wipe it off.
"She won't notice one little smudge Marley, you're going a little over board," Ryder states calmly, in that tone that you know someone's frustrated, but they're trying not to let on.
I quickly nod, "Of course she won't." Quickly I start pulling at my fingers, clasping my hands together and un-clasping them. Ryder sighs and takes a tissue himself and removes the dreaded smudge.
"You happy?" he asks, turning back to me, I offer him a shy smile as he pecks my cheek. He puts the tissue in the bin, the bin I just emptied. I know my face falls again, and so does Ryder's.
"It's one tissue, it will not break this deal Marley, I promise," he places a hand on my shoulder, before quickly kissing my lips, as far as our intimacy goes these days.
A quick, loud knock at the door takes me from my trance and I sweep towards the door pulling a smile up only as I open it. My smile falters as I realise the girl at the door is blonde, I try to pull it back, but it's gone.
"I'm sorry, but is something wrong?" the girl asks a scowl quickly forming on her face. What was I to say, that we'd been expecting a brunette, because that is what I specifically requested. I couldn't say that, she'd agreed to help and the least I could do was not complain about the colour of her hair. She was doing something so special for Ryder and I because I couldn't, even though I wanted to so badly I'm messed up inside, so I can't.
"Nothing's wrong," Ryder quickly tells her, seeing as it appears I have lost the ability to speak. "Come in," he offers with a smile. I quickly force one back on my face, wouldn't want her to think she would be giving a baby to an unhappy home.
I close the door behind the blonde girl, before turning back to my husband and the wonderful person who would be helping us complete our family. My face does a quick dance as it falls at the sight of Ryder's collar, before I pull the smile back I know needs to be there. As the woman turns to take her shoes off, I fix up Ryder's collar, un-tucking it from his shirt and folding it over the sweater I had laid out for him earlier. Ryder had jeans on, I'd laid out nice pants for him not jeans. I must be going wide eyed because Ryder mouths 'calm down', and I mouth 'jeans', before pulling an angry face.
We both force our smiles back as the, surprisingly short woman turns back to face us. I would have sworn she was taller, the stiletto heels in the corner tell a different story. She had an impossibly short dress on, it was yellow, Ryder's favourite colour and her hair was pinned back at the sides with slides that had pink and yellow stripes on them. Her cropped blazer jacket was the same pale pink colour that was in her slides, and her shoes matched. Her shoes made me uncomfortable, women of the night generally wore those kinds of shoes.
And as if he's read my mind Ryder mentions the shoes, "Those are, um… they're nice shoes ah …" he trails off, realising we haven't yet gotten her name.
She holds out her hand. "Kitty, my name is Kitty Wilde," she offers us a smile while shaking both of our hands in turn, mine first then Ryder's.
Ryder in turn introduces us, "I'm Ryder, and this is my wife Marley," he tells her gesturing to me. I offer yet another forced smile.
Kitty nods, "I know, I've read all the paper work," she smiles, I want to ask her why she's not Brunette then, but I stay quiet. "About my shoes, they may look a little scary, but they're for nothing but height, lord knows I could use it."
Ryder laughs with her, I don't quite get the joke.
Kitty makes a show of standing next to Ryder, comparing the difference. They're both still laughing and I still don't get it. It's not funny! What if my baby got her defective short gene? What if my baby was blonde? Everyone would know, my baby would know. Immediately I start pulling at my fingers, clasping and unclasping my hands. All these possibilities rolling around in my head, they hurt, knowing, knowing that my baby will not be biologically mine, but Ryder's and some strangers.
"So how's this gonna work?" Kitty asks snapping me out of my trance. "You sending me off to the clinic with a cup of his jiz? Or what?"
"Nah, we're doing it tradionally," Ryder laughs. Even though he's obviously joking, and they're both laughing, I still stiffen, not laughing, no longer even smiling, still pulling at my fingers, panicking. I know he wouldn't, I get the joke, but it's not funny, not in the slightest.
"Does your wife not have a sense of humour? Or is she legit worried about something? I don't think she's talked yet." Kitty is now just talking to Ryder. 'It's both Kitty!' I want to yell, but I don't, I never do. I don't yell, I don't swear. But that doesn't mean I don't do bad things. Sometimes, just sometimes I do things that are worse than yelling, or swearing. But only sometimes, unfortunately that sometimes is all the time.
I run my hand over the smoothness of his chest, before dipping in and placing a kiss on the smooth caramel colour of his shoulder. Smiling I swoop back to his lips. His soft, warm lips, so full of love and passion, secrets and lies, perfection and deceit.
Ryder is out. I don't know where, some work thing I presume, but he won't be here for the weekend. I have … had, the house all to myself.
"I can't keep doing this," I tell him, with a sigh, knowing I don't mean it. I could easily keep doing this, I just shouldn't.
"You keep saying that," he smiles, I'm caught. "And yet, here we are." He proves yet another point by rolling me over and beginning to place more sweet kisses down my neck. Moaning slightly I pull his head back up so I can reconnect our lips, fiercely, passionately, perfectly, all things I haven't had with Ryder in a long time.
"Jake," I sigh as he ventures back down to my neck. There was no doubt going to be another mark I was going to have to hide. "Jake," I sigh again, this time with a hint of a laugh as he playfully bites my shoulder and lightly traces his hand down the bare skin of my stomach. His touch is warm and comforting, making my skin tingle and causing goose bumps to raise, all making my smile grow.
This is perfection, Jake is perfection.
Thursday morning rolls around fast, and so I'm back to my regular routine as that blue pick-up drives off and the silver Mercedes returns. The precise and dreary day to day existence of one Marley Lynn.
I made sure nothing was amiss. I straightened everything on the nightstands, tucking Jake's letter inside my book, inside the draw and under the bits of miscellaneous paper's that have gathered. Ryder will never know. I've re-maid the bed, tucking each corner and side in perfectly, there is not a single crease, not a single clue.
After deciding the bedroom was spotless, I move downstairs to the kitchen figuring it could use some care seeing as I'd abandoned it for the past four days, instead favouring take-out in my room. I smile at the thought, I have to see him again soon.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I'm ambushed.
"Happy birthday my lovely wife!" He has my eyes covered but the use of wife is the giveaway. Too bad he is the last person I want to see, so in a way his hands are my barrier from reality. The reality that I'm married to Ryder and not Jake, and that I'm an unhappy, cheating, adulterous, liar. Who would have thought I'd turn out to be that kind of woman my parents always shunned and made fun of, certainly not me.
"Thank-you," I say as he lets go. Quickly bending down he picks up something, I didn't quite catch what, but I find out soon enough when he hands me the bouquet of purple and yellow freesia's.
"Oh, honey, these… these will attract bees," I hand them back, "You know I'm allergic." I watch his smile falters slightly, but doesn't completely disappear. He reaches back into the pink and white shopping bag beside him and hands me a parcel. A box of chocolate, "Diet," I quietly say while making my way to the kitchen, placing the box down on the counter. He places the flowers beside the box I didn't even bother to open.
Jake would have known better.
But still Ryder doesn't give up and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. He hands me three more separate parcels, his smile dropping more each time I subtly rejected it without much reason. His smile is no longer there as he tries once more, handing me an envelope.
"Dinner reservations at what I do know is your favourite restaurant." He states folding his arms across his chest.
It would have to do. I shouldn't be being so pathetic and obvious, but I can't help it, it's not like my husband is going to get me the man of my dreams for my birthday.
So dinner it was.
I'd never tell Ryder why this was my favourite restaurant. The food was sub-par, and the decor wasn't anything special, but the wait staff, well one waiter in particular. I watch him as Ryder looks over the menu. He stands at the bar, waiting on drinks for a customer's table. He looked absolutely perfect in his dress pants and white shirt and the dark red vest. But what's under that vest starts to seep into my mind.
I snap from my trance when Ryder points out that Kitty also works here so she knows my Jake.
No lady who works the bar and wears a skirt that short is going to give birth to my baby.
Ryder must notice my scowl.
"What's wrong?" He looks back at Kitty then me again. What kind of a name is Kitty anyway. It couldn't be real.
"She's not right for this," I snap so acidicly that Ryder jumps in his seat, I scare myself slightly too.
"I think she's perfect. Marls she won't be doing this while she's pregnant. We'll be paying her so she won't need to." Ryder is right. He's always right. I mean how many people are going to be willing to have a baby for you? It took us forever to find this one, and I can't risk losing her.
Same brown hair, never died never changed. Same blue eyes, never covered never bruised. And yet I don't recognise myself. Sitting in front of the large mirror framed in cream, I braid my long wavy brunette locks. I don't like to cut my hair, but I keep the ends healthy. I don't leave it out much anymore, not like in high school. Even though I have so much more to hide.
My gaze strays and I focus on the man sat behind me on our bed, leant back on the matching cream headboard, frowning at the baby book he was holding. This is the man I'm supposed to love, the man I'm supposed to be happy with, the man I'm supposed to be faithful to. Ryder has never been anything but good to me. So why? Why do I do this to him? And why can't I bring myself to tell him? He deserves better than this. Better than me.
Lining the lipstick with the mascara and the liner, not that I use this stuff very often, I just like to have it, decoration I guess. The hairbrush isn't quite straight, nope still not right. The mirror, no, it's bugging me. Stand up, straighten it, tilting, why won't it stay? Great I've left a smudge. Taking a tissue from the box I begin wiping the whole mirror down because I've done one spot, I might as well do the rest too.
Re-position the tissue box, step back, no the mirror is still not right. Fix it, everything has to be perfect.
I had better go check that Ryder has put his things away, he won't have, he never does. It's like he wants me to constantly worry.
He catches my arm before I can get into the closet and I have to resist the urge to hiss at him.
"Marley," he says firmly. I cast my gaze to the floor, determined to keep it there. Placing a finger on my chin, he tilts my head up, but my gaze doesn't falter. "This is ridiculous, just come to bed."
"Did you put your shoes where they go? Did you hang your shirt up? What about your pants? Or are you too stupid?" I hiss, knowing I'll hit a sore spot. Not caring, I continue, "It's alright for you to say don't worry, just stop being ridiculous. Your brain is too freaking small to even imagine a quarter of what is going on in mine!" I yell with no idea what has come over me.
Ryder lets go of my arm and storms out the door, slamming it behind him, I soon also hear the slam of the front door.
Tears don't come. I've learned not to cry over him.
He comes back, he always does. I don't know where he goes, but he always comes back.
Sometimes I wish he wouldn't.
I'm meeting with Kitty when he comes back. We're in my immaculate lounge, with water to drink on yellow and blue glass coasters as I refuse to risk a stain.
Conversation is strained, reduced to useless small talk about the weather, until Ryder arrives of course.
You'd be a fool if you didn't notice the way Ryder's face lit up when he saw her, I'm no fool.
He puts his stuff down on the bench and makes his way over to us. I inwardly cringe at his belongings. 'Things were tidy until you got back.' I silently pray that Kitty didn't notice the glare I'd just shot Ryder.
"Hey mini," Ryder chuckles as he greets Kitty. He takes my hand as he sits on the couch next to me. I resist the urge to pull away, I don't want this anymore. But I want a baby, and Jake would never be able to afford this like Ryder can.