I do not own The Magic of Ordinary Days.
Cool to see Skeet Ulrich very un-Skeet-ish. Even if I am 20 years late to the party.
The Magic of a Simple Life
Ajumble
He has to pause, swallow hard, catch his breath before he can finish the question.
He's so spent and without any energy left except what he's using to hold himself up.
She nods, bringing a hand to his face, stroking gently.
"Yes."
And he doesn't know what to do so he gets off her before he falls down on her.
Gets off and, without clear thought, clambers up off the bed entirely.
He scrambles to gather his clothes from the floor, suddenly desperate to hide his nakedness and embarrassment and swelling shame.
He doesn't speak, he doesn't know the words he could speak that might make this any better.
He just did that to her, the woman he loves, the mother of their child, the one he's supposed to honor, and he suddenly feels like he should apologize for his behavior toward her even though she seemed to invite it by becoming mostly naked and pressing herself up against him like that.
Leading him over to the bed, laying down, pulling him on top of her, grabbing his . . . and . . .
And he feels very confused because he did that to her with her consent and it felt so good but should it have if it's only meant to make children and-
"Ray? Are you alright?"
And he doesn't respond, he can't respond because he's rushing from the room, wadded clothes trailing from his clenched hands, stumbling over his own feet, bottom out and bare for her to see, no dignity or respect at all whatsoever-
And he flounders into the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind him-
Not very husbandly behavior.
Ignoring her when she speaks, slamming the door in her face-
And he drops his clothes on the floor, grips the edge of sink and stares into the mirror.
So good it felt so good why do I feel so guilty and bad?
And there's a gentle knock on the door behind him . . .
"Ray? Are you alright?"
. . . that causes him to clench his jaw and scrape the surface of the sink with his fingernails.
And he gulps a breath.
"Yeah, yeah, I just . . . I just . . . need to take a shower."
As if to prove he's not lying, he reaches over and twists on the shower faucet.
And Livy's voice sounds very careful and measured over the sound of streaming water when she replies.
"Okay. I'll be downstairs in the kitchen. If you want something to eat or drink when you get out."
"Okay. Th-thank you."
And then she thankfully leaves him alone, her near-silent presence retreating from the door.
And Ray Singleton hangs his head.
I'm so sorry.
And tries to get ahold of his raging emotions.
There alone in the bathroom.
He forces himself downstairs some time later, short hair combed back from his brow and wet at nape of his neck as he lumbers down the stairs.
He catches sight of her in his peripheral vision as he passes the kitchen entranceway.
He can't quite look her in the face as she rises from her chair at the breakfast table, hands enfolding each other at her now slim middle.
His mind is still a storm, a white blizzard of emotions and thoughts and worries, all ajumble.
And he has rarely ever felt less like eating in his life as he notes the sandwich makings she has laid out for his selections.
"Ray-"
"I have to get back out in the field. I'll see you at supper."
And then he jams his hat back down on his head.
I'm sorry.
And flees from the house into the warm spring afternoon.