Chapter 3

a/n: Sorry it's been so long—I've been incredibly busy. I'm currently working on Chapter 4.

Don't give up on me yet! And thanks to Christy for being my Beta, though she's as busy as me!

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The radio alarm came on promptly at 8, like it always did on the weekend. Ethan blinked a few times at the glowing green digits and silenced it. He yawned and rolled over, trying to block out the sound of running water. Meredith was already up and in the shower, the day's clothes down from their hangers and lying across a chair. He stared out the window before him as he listened to the running water in the bathroom that muffled Meredith's singing. He gazed blankly at the lawn, the grass slowly being taken over by weeds and crabgrass.

I'm supposed to do that today, he thought, his brow knit at the thought of tackling the overgrown lawn under the scorching eye of the sun. He sighed. I need to get up and do it before it gets too hot out. The thought came automatically, subconsciously. Ethan caught himself and decided to rethink the matter. If Meredith doesn't have to, why should I? The words appeared in his head in a bitter stream. "Screw it," he mumbled, turning over again, this time ending up on his stomach. He yanked the cover over his head but couldn't sleep, not only because Meredith was now drying her hair, but he knew he still had a lot to do even if mowing the lawn wasn't on the list. His thoughts roamed from the upcoming week's curricular schedule to the coffee-stained test papers to the stack of bills sitting on the kitchen table. But what, really, did it matter? He didn't want to care about it anymore.

Just then Meredith emerged from the bathroom, looking spectacular, as usual. Her brown hair was set perfectly around her face, not one strand askew. She didn't say a word to Ethan, who remained face down on the bed. She simply scooped up her handbag and keys, and walked out of the bedroom. Ethan didn't ask where she was going. He knew. She was going shopping. He heard the front door close and her car start in the driveway. Though he'd not seen much of her in the past week, he didn't care. In fact, he was somewhat relieved to see her go. It gave him time to think. He was torn. He loved Meredith, loved her. And it was because he loved her he was in such anguish. He felt it was his duty as her husband to provide for her, but at the same time he felt she should pull her own weight. He had to do everything himself most of the time; she was just along for the ride. He knew they couldn't go on like this, digging themselves deeper in debt as time went on. He had to say something before too much damage was done.

But how would he say it? He knew that if instead of beating around the bush he just got to the point and was blunt about it, she'd be more likely to listen. Meredith was a master of manipulation. Given the opportunity, she could change a subject faster than Ethan could open his mouth to object. The thought of Meredith's reaction to his confrontation infuriated him. That was another thing that kept Ethan thinking about how to broach the subject of her overspending. His fledgling temper worried him a little, though he had to admit it felt nice to gain a little control over the relationship by losing a little control of himself. He didn't want to offend her, but he had to be honest with himself: her feelings mattered less to him now than their financial status. That came first. She would get over it. The bank wouldn't. It might even feel…good to speak his mind. Even though the words would most likely hurt temporarily, he knew the lasting effects would be worth it. He could relieve the pressure of their debts while also lessening the pressure in his head, and he wanted to free his mind more than anything. I have to stop letting this money business get to me…I'm going to lose my mind! He thought. I'm sick and tired of being depressed. He let out a sharp sigh into the pillow. That's it. The minute her pretty little leg crosses the threshold, I'm letting her have it. Ethan pushed himself onto his knees with his arms and stepped off the bed, onto the carpeted floor. He ran a hand over his hair and opened the middle dresser drawer to grab a t-shirt. His eyes fell on an empty drawer. So Meredith didn't do any laundry yesterday, either. He drew a long breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then scanned the floor for something else to wear. Putting on a white tee that he'd worn last Saturday, Ethan made his way to the living room where he'd left the stack of test papers. He grabbed a pen from his briefcase and set to grading them, stained or not. He didn't much care anymore. He turned on the TV for a little background noise. He was almost halfway through the stack when a midday news headline caught his ear and he looked up at the screen.

"Today in Gotham a group of city residents who call themselves 'Citizens For Batman' held a public rally at the city's Community Center #5, met with quite a bit of opposition," the reporter said. A video showed a crowd of citizens bunched up near a curb, shouting at a group of people wearing black shirts and carrying picket signs, some of which read "Don't let city hall arrest Batman" and "Fight back. Fight for Batman!" The reporter continued. "Batman, whose real identity is unknown, has been received with mixed reactions from Gotham citizens over the years. Today's demonstration was quickly shut down by Gotham City Police, but now the group claims that their First Amendment rights are being threatened. We will have more on this story later. In other news…"

Ethan had heard of this masked individual called Batman, though he never really took the time to read up on him, though he lived in a neighboring city and had traveled to Gotham many times before on work-related trips. Sounds like an interesting character, he thought. But why a bat? He looks like an idiot. To each his own, I guess. He looked back down at the papers and continued his work grading and creating lesson plans for the coming week.

A few hours later, Meredith returned. Ethan heard the car door slam from the kitchen, where he'd been burning an attempt at an early dinner and fighting with the smoke detector in the hall. He turned the burners off and tossed the kitchen towel on the counter in frustration. It could wait. He tensed his jaw and stepped into the living room to greet Meredith with an interrogation. He'd been planning it all day.

"God, what is that smell?" Meredith crinkled her nose in disgust as she walked in the door, trying in vain to cover her nose with one shopping-bag laden arm.

"Never mind that. Sit down." Ethan replied.

Meredith lowered her brows in confusion and shock. "Well I thought you'd be happy to—"

"Sit, Meredith!"

She sat on the sofa and slipped the bags from her hands, the look of confusion not leaving her face. Well that was easy, Ethan thought to himself, somewhat surprised. "How much did you spend?" he asked, looking down at her where she sat.

"What does that—"

"How much did you spend?" He asked again.

Their eyes met. There was a pause.

"Let me see the receipts, Meredith." Ethan bent down to reach into the bag closest to him, a pink one from Henson's, a shoe boutique. "I want to know!"

Meredith tried to pull his hand away from the bag, but Ethan simply turned his body so that his shoulder was in her way and continued digging through the white tissue paper, looking for the receipt. She stood and pushed him away from her, causing him to stumble backward to keep himself from falling. Anger was welling up in him. "I have a right to know!" he roared, stepping closer to her and getting in her face. Meredith raised her hands to his chest quickly to push him away again, but Ethan seized her wrists and forced her back to the sofa. "I'm the one who pays the damned bill!" he said, releasing her. He reached down to the coffee table, where he'd put the latest credit card bill. He flipped the paper open. "Look at this! How am I supposed to pay this by next week?! They'll have our cars, our clothes—our house—if I don't pay this!" He shook the paper in front of her eyes. Snatching it, she read down to the bottom figure. Her narrowed eyes darted back up to meet his fiery ones above the paper.

"Fine," she said, glaring. "You win. I'll cut back on the shopping." She rose and grabbed her keys, shoving the bill into Ethan's hands and started toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"Out. What does it look like, genius?"

"I don't think so. You've got to stop gambling, too." He lowered his voice to speaking volume.

"You won't keep me from having a social life!" she yelled.

"Like hell I won't keep you from doing whatever I want to! You don't think I know that you're gambling away our money in some stupid poker game every night?! You will stop!" he raised his voice again.

"I'm not your dog; I'm your wife, Ethan!"

He opened his mouth to spit another heated word but suddenly decided against it. It would be best for her to leave for a little while anyway to allow them both to cool down.

Meredith studied Ethan's face from across the room. She had never experienced this before. The day they shared their first date she knew she could make him do anything she wanted. She was determined to win this fight, to whip him back into shape and regain her hold on him. She looked at the stubble on his face with disgust. How slovenly. She straightened her back and flipped a piece of hair away from her face. "What the hell is that?" she taunted, waving a finger in the direction of his chin. "Go shave. You look like shit." Ethan glared back at her, jaw set, eyes narrowed. He blinked slowly at her. He wasn't moving, not for her. Not now. Meredith turned on her heel and left the house, slamming the door behind her. Backing out of the driveway, she began to think about what had just happened in the house. Ethan wasn't what she'd thought he was at the beginning of their relationship. He was starting to scare her. Not that he'd ever hurt her—no. He'd never do that. She'd never allow it. But she couldn't manipulate him as well as she could before, and that annoyed her. It worried her.

Meredith was losing control. Little did she know…so was he.