Call me Duchess

Over Easy

After an annoyingly NPR filled 45-minute car ride we arrive at our favorite breakfast place, "over easy." Sunday mornings aren't usually packed since most people attend church during this time. We head inside and a nice young host seats us in the back corner, by the big window, overlooking the park. My husband sits facing the entrance/exit per his usual paranoid propensities and I take the seat across from him. The host places out menus on the table and heads back toward his post. I place my hands on the table and tap my finger a few times before following my thoughts as they wonder out the window. I stare at the strangers in the park enjoying their normal lives. A guy tosses the frisbee to another guy, and that guy passes it to the other guy. They laugh and tease one another; I smile watching them enjoy themselves when suddenly I'm taken out of the moment as I feel my husband pulling my hands toward him.

"Bella." He says in a stern tone. I shake my head and apologize. He nods and a small smile curls on to the edge of his mouth. "You never asked about my trip, love" he continues, and I watch his lips as he tells me every mundane detail of his business trip. I notice the stubble on his cheeks and lips. His salt and pepper hair is a little messy, as if he rushed or perhaps didn't care to brush it this morning. Then I recall him on top of me while I was asleep. Years ago, I never would not have minded his spontaneity. It's something I genuinely love about him. The man knows what he wants, and he takes it. But this time it bothered me. That dream could've been a lot sexier, and the thought of Denise saying my real name excited me. I sigh and after a while I chime back into the one-sided conversation and catch the important part- "so, that's why I'm going to be gone a bit more often." As the words leave his lips, I feel my heart sink. Dammit why wasn't I listening? if he's gone that means no sex! Just as I'm beginning to speak our waitress arrives to take out order.

"Good morning, my name is Nancy, I'll be serving you today, can I get you started with anything to drink?" her tiny voice is annoying, I cut my eyes toward her, then quickly realize I'm being rude. She'd done nothing wrong and was undeserving of such a look. I corrected and smile and as I beginning to speak once again, I'm cut off, this time, by my husband.

"Yes, we'll have a couple of mimosas, I'll have 3 eggs over easy with a side of pancakes and bacon, she'll have 3 pancakes, and a side of fruit. Thanks," he speaks directly without so much as a glance in my direction. The nice young waitress nods and heads toward the kitchen. Once she's gone, I dart my eyes at him. "what's your problem?" I speak, frustration in my tone. His response is simple, and makes my ears burn hot "you haven't uttered more than a few words since I've been home. If you won't speak to me, you don't speak to anyone else." His phone rings and he winks at me before reaching for it and taking the call, outside. I'm helpless. My husband has been on a winning streak sense the night with his assistant. I need to get my power back. While he's outside the waitress returns with our drinks and lets me know our food would be out shortly. I give her a small smile and nod and cut my eyes back toward my husband.

He makes his way back to the table after a few minutes and puts his phone on the table face down. "Sorry about that, love" he says in a soft tone. "That's alright" I respond. "When will you be leaving again, and for how long?" As I ask, I grab my mimosas and place the glass to my lips while I wait for his response.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" he laughs as he watches my lips glide slowly across the rim of my glass. I need not respond, as he's correct in his assumption. "Starting next week, I'll be gone, 2 weeks out of every month for the next 3 months. A few clients have grown weary of our business deals and they're sending me to a few developing countries to "maintain" the relationships." I feel the butterflies in my stomach as he speaks. He's leaving the country every month, for 2 whole weeks. As much as I can't stand him, I still love him and will miss him dearly. Though a part of me is crying inside as I know I will not have my steady supply of sex for a while. I finally sip my drink and place it back on the table. "Two whole weeks, well...I will definitely miss you." I say in a genuine tone. He grabs my hand again and gives it a soft squeeze. I'll only be a phone call away, and we can always do that thing you like to do, on a video call." His smirk grows into a mischievous smile. I blush and smile back "oh, it's been a while since we've done that." I reply. Moments later the waitress brings us our food. She places the plates down in front of us and asks if there's anything more, she can get us. My husband gives me a side eye look and I know exactly what he's thinking. I playfully roll my eyes and answer the young lady "no, thank you." She gives a small nod and walks away. My husband looks at me and laughs a little.

"What, not your type?" he asks, unraveling his silverware. "She looks incredibly young, hell, she's probably been one of my students at some point." I respond shaking my head. He shrugs and we enjoy our breakfast. After about 15 minutes of plate scraping and an occasional glance at one another my husband strikes up another conversation. "So, what did you get into, while I was gone?" I really don't want to talk about it. I think quickly and decide to tell him about the work that I'd caught up on in regard to the school budget and some student issues. As I begin to go into detail my phone buzzes and feel a sense of relief come over me. I wipe my mouth and fingers before reaching into my clutch to grab my phone.

Messenger:

Rhaz: Salute, Beaute! I'll be in town next weekend. Let's get together

Me: yes! Can't wait, we've got some catching up to do

A text from my best friend always puts a smile on my face. I look up and see my husband waiting with an amused look on his face for an explanation. I respond to the text and per our rule, I start to place my phone on the table, face down, when I feel it vibrate once again. It's a double vibration meaning it's an email or a notification from an app perhaps. I check it, and it's an email, I pull the notification down and the name in the header causes me to choke a little.

Gmail (6 unread messages)

D: Denise Mercer 9:13AM

Subject: blank

I quickly clear my throat and grab my mimosa to wash away the guilt and awkwardness that hit me like a tidal wave. A quick glance at my husband and his amusement has turned to curiosity. I dismiss the email and place the phone down.

"Who was it?" he asks, as he finishes up his breakfast. "Rhaz, she's coming to town next weekend. And I got an email from bloomy, she informed me that I'd done the budget wrong, and you know how I feel about being corrected" I lie, and he eats it right up. Granted I may have had an email from bloomy, there were a few messages I hadn't opened yet, so there's a chance I could've been telling the truth. His brow furrows and he rolls his eyes. "Rhazule." He says in an annoyed tone. "She still hates me, after all I've done for her. She's a bad influence on you, you know that?" he begins his tangent on how much he dislikes my childhood best friend. I finish up my food and grab my glass to finish my drink. My eyes wonder back toward the window, and I do what I do best, tune of my husband. I watch a woman jogging by, in her tight leggings and sports bra. Her breast swaying back and forth is pleasing and I'm no longer hearing the sound of my husbands' voice. Just like that, the breakfast is over, easy.