A/N: Shortest chapter yet, but this part was giving me trouble so I had to just get past it. Normal length will resume next time.
Bad time? –Lucas
If it was any better, I'd think you were psychic. –W
Glancing up from the small, glowing screen, she noticed that Joel had actually turned the page of his book for the first time in the past hour. Her husband had been sitting on the cream-colored sofa- what was with the Glickers' apparent light-color obsession? –for most of the evening, reading his latest self-help book. And almost since the minute she'd sat down in an armchair to read her worn copy of Salem's Lot, he'd been treating her to an in-depth description of the quack author's philosophy.
"…but the really revolutionary idea is that you have to let go of your 'self' to find your true purpose," Joel continued. Behind his glasses, the man's hazel eyes were aglow; Wednesday found herself unconsciously reminded of Lucas when he talked about writing.
I'm married to a man whose innermost passion is self-help books. Diverse interests be damned; that was just sad.
Another vibration from her phone provided a welcome distraction.
What's up? –Lucas
Though the buzz was meant to be quieter than a text tone, it still cut through Joel's monologue. He glanced at the phone.
"Who are you texting, darling?" he asked in a puzzled tone. She calmly began typing out a reply; switching the phone off suddenly and looking up at him would have seemed suspicious.
"Just a friend. Go on."
Joel is reading self-help books at me. –W
The next vibration was almost immediate. How romantic. –Lucas
At her involuntary chuckle, Joel looked up again. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Wednesday, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"
"Yes," she replied. "You're talking about how Dr. Madden thinks that the ego is actually a societal construct that hinders growth." Her fingers moved along with her words.
He's talking about how Dr. Madden thinks the ego is actually a societal construct that hinders growth. Whatever that means. –W
The next time she looked up, Joel was staring at her with a hurt expression. She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"His name is Dr. Fine," the young man replied. "Dr. Madden was the last book I read, and he was a complete lunatic."
"I seem to remember you idolizing him just the same way at the time," she muttered under her breath.
No, that's Dr. Fine. My mom read his book. He's an idiot, but most of them are. –Lucas
I know. I've had to listen to every one of them for-
Suddenly, the phone was snatched away; she looked up to see Joel standing over her. The young woman slowly stood up, her expression menacing.
"Give that back," she said quietly. Any man who had been married to her for three years should have known that was a danger sign, but Joel just turned the other way. He began to thumb further up the conversation, reading texts from as far back as the day two months ago when she and Lucas had met. And though she couldn't see his face, his shoulders grew progressively stiffer.
Finally, he spoke, without turning around. "Lucas?"
"Joel-" Wednesday snatched the phone back, but her husband still stood there, gazing out the window. "He's a friend of mine. I met him in the park back in June."
"Your first text from him is on the night of our anniversary," he said; the amount of quiet menace in his tone surprisingly matched that in his wife's when she'd demanded her phone back. When she didn't reply, he continued.
"The night of our anniversary, when I went to bed early and you said you had a headache- as you have almost every night since our wedding."
"Joel, if you would just-"
He rounded on her, his voice rising. "Three years! Three years we've been married, and we've made love as many times."
This time, she didn't even try to speak. Instead, she slid her thumb across the lock on her phone, typed in the password, and began texting again.
He's angry. I can't handle this. –W
"For god's sake," Joel shouted, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, "stop texting that… that man!" The last word carried such a tone of disgust that she almost laughed.
Wednesday twisted her shoulders sharply, breaking his grasp. "Need I remind you that you're a man, too?"
Is he hurting you? –Lucas
"I'm a man who loves you, who adores you," her husband shouted. "I'm a man who sees you for the goddess of the night you are, and he's some plebian-"
No. I'd like to see him try, and anyway that would require him to grow a spine. –W
The next minute, Joel was crouched on the ground, holding his cheek, a red mark blooming beneath his hand. It wasn't until the ringing in her ears began to clear that Wednesday saw the flush on her own palm and realized she had slapped him.
Joel stood, shaking. He walked back to the couch and sat down almost calmly against the off-white cushions. Carefully setting his bookmark in place, he laid the book on the mahogany coffee table. Then, still oddly composed, he turned back to his wife.
"I'll kill him," he said simply. "I'll kill any man who comes between us- any man who so much as looks at you. He doesn't deserve to kiss your feet, and yet he's poisoned your mind."
Wednesday heard herself say, "I'll kill you if you try," and felt faintly surprised. When had she become more loyal to her friend than her husband?
"W-what are you saying?" Joel stammered. His composure was lost, and so was her patience.
Without speaking, the young woman left the room. She walked past the coffee table Joel had selected, past the couch that had been a wedding gift from his parents; into the hall, ignoring the pale blue paint that had been his favorite at the hardware store and the floral prints that Selma had felt no newlywed couple should be without.
Nothing in this house is mine.
And so, once again, the obvious solution seemed to be leaving. This registered in her mind only as she was shouldering her bag, walking out the door, and shutting- not even slamming, though she didn't know why –the door behind her.
Mind if I stop in? –W
Not at all. I'll see you soon. –Lucas
A/N: And thus, the next chapter gets to be pure, unadulterated WxL. Praise Charles.