Cal leaned back against the head of the bed and slipped his glasses over his ears to read the paper. He'd only managed to unfold it along the central crease when Gillian came into the room and stood in front of him. Well more to the side, she didn't climb on the bed to literally stand in front of him. Cal looked up. She had bright pink cleaning gloves on and an unimpressed expression. "The boys peed on the floor in their toilet."
Cal watched her for a moment. He was tempted to ask her how it was his problem or what she wanted him to do about it in particular. It wasn't like he could go for them. But he thought better of making a quasi-snide comment that could start a fight. By the look on her face, it would probably start a fight.
"Can you talk to them please?" She asked, her voice a little sharp.
"I've talked to them," Cal responded carefully, lowering the paper. He was tired. It had been a busy week. He just wanted half an hour to read the paper in peace.
"Well they're clearly not listening."
"You talk to them then," he tried.
"Cal, you need to talk to them."
"Cos we have the same parts?" It was only really a half question.
"Yes," Gillian responded.
"It's not that easy you know."
"It seems easy to me. You tell them to pee in the actual toilet, instead of on the seat. Or the floor."
Cal suppressed a sigh. "I meant, aimin'. It's harda than it looks. Specially when you're young."
Gillian stood for a moment. Staring at him. Disbelief.
"I'll talk to them," Cal conceded, feeling the need, once again, to peace-keep.
"Thank you," Gillian grouched. "And you can clean it up." She stripped off her glove and tossed it at him before starting on the other. So. They were both grumpy then.
Cal tossed the glove back at her quickly. It bounced off against her arm and fell to the floor. Her glare got harder. Cal threw the paper to the side and made like he was going to climb off the bed. Gillian took a step back while she pulled the other glove off. Cal grabbed her before she could get too far away and her angry expression quickly turned to shock. He snatched the glove out of her hand and threw it to the floor with the other, while pulling his wife against him abruptly and falling back against the mattress. He felt the paper crumple beneath his shoulders and the heavy weight of his wife against his abdomen. She gave a surprised huff as they dropped.
"Why do I have to clean it up?" Cal retorted. "Huh?" He turned her over roughly, almost tossing her. She tried to sit up but he threw himself over her, crushing her back down with his body weight. She fought him with a little grunt. "You're not allowed to be grumpy."
"Why not?" She shot back.
"Because I'm grumpy," Cal growled. Gillian's hand came free and struck against his ear. "Oi," he grabbed her limb. "No hittin'." He pressed a shoulder against hers, forcing her back. She tried to bring up a knee for leverage. "Or I'll sit you in time out. Is that what you want? How about no TV?" Gillian laughed and finally gave up. Cal picked the hair out of her face carefully. He looked down at her. Her cheeks were red. "You feel betta now?" He asked softly.
Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. "Because we had a roll around on the mattress?"
"Geeze," Cal breathed. "You really are in a mood."
Gillian tried to shove him off but he resisted, pinning her hand above her head. She struggled harder, then caved again, going still and limp. "Every time I go in there," she complained. "It's a mess. And I clean it and they just think the fairies must pick up after them."
"They're kids," Cal tried carefully. "They're still learnin'."
"Then they can start cleaning their own toilet. Then they might learn."
"That's not a half bad idea."
Owen was seven now and Lewis twelve.
"Gotta learn sometime. And then they might be more careful," Cal agreed.
Gillian looked up at him. She sighed. Then stuck out her bottom lip. "Why am I such a bitch to you when you're always on my side?"
"Cos you forget," Cal leaned down to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth. She shifted the angle of her jaw to capture his lips. "Cos you get grumpy and lash out at the person you trust the most to neva hold it against you."
"Yes that," she whispered. "I get tired."
"I know," Cal agreed. "Me too." He shifted back a bit, actually feeling less grumpy himself. "I'll clean the toilet. And then I'm gonna take half an hour to read the bloody pape-a and I'm not talkin' to anyone. Not even you."
"I'll clean the toilet," Gillian sighed.
"No it's fine. I like my martyr points."
Gillian gave him a little shove and this time he rolled away, so he was on his back. He expected Gillian to get up and toss the plastic gloves in his face. That's what he would do if he knew her anger wasn't real. Hers was though. He still had a grip on his. Instead she straddled over his waist. "Oooph," Cal was surprised.
Gillian gathered her hair in one hand and leaned down to kiss him again. "I'm sorry for being grumpy."
"You can apologise to me all night long," Cal retorted, wagging his eyebrows at her.
Gillian gave a little laugh and a half smirk and climbed off him again with an eye roll. She was not abated but he was trying. He felt like making a snide comment about her being on her period but stopped himself short. Two reasons. The first was, what had he told Lewis? A woman's period was not something to make fun of. Ever. Not even as a joke. Not even if she was laughing about it or if she had started it. It would always come back to haunt him. It was out of bounds. At all times. Never ever mention it, on pain of death. And the second was, Gillian was menopausal. That wasn't something to joke about, tease about, or laugh about; fertility was no laughing matter in her life.
Dodged a freaking bullet there.
Cal stooped to get the gloves from the carpet and stood up with a sigh. Gillian had gone into their bathroom to clean that instead so Cal traipsed down the hall to the end where the shared toilet was. If he couldn't figure Gillian out easily then he was too tired to try. Perhaps an afternoon nap was warranted. Cuddling up in bed with her for a few hours would be a very good thing for the both of them. The boys could entertain themselves until dinner time. Gillian really did need a time out. Sometimes it was all so very overwhelming.
Cal stepped into the small room of the toilet and studied the mess. "Oh great." It wasn't as bad as Gillian had bitched about but it smelt pretty unpleasant in there. The basket of toilet paper in the corner showed signs of dried out sogginess and discolouration. And now that Cal was looking he could see backsplash dried on the wall too. Ok so maybe it was as bad as Gillian had bitched about.
"Owen!" Cal thumped on the wall next to him, the wall that was shared with the boy's bedroom. It was probably unfair, but the most likely culprit was the youngest. "Come here!"