Foolishly Falling for You

4

Lance

"Oh...my marriage could not be more perfect," I grin, pouring back my drink.

My friend, Michael raised his brows. "Since when?"

I shrug. "I finally got through to her! I don't know how, I don't know why, but all of a sudden she's just...matured. She doesn't nag, she doesn't fight, and she doesn't force herself around me. It's great!"

Michael's expression drops. I frown resting my cup down. "Oh my. She's planning something isn't she?"

"Hm...it seems like she's decided loving you isn't worth it after all."

I blink and frown. "What?"

Michael shrugged. "That's what it means when women go silent. It means they've given up on you."

Given up...it only took her six years. But I don't believe that. I don't think she would give up that easily, she's just becoming more mature, understanding that everything can't be her way all the time.

"Nonsense. This is Anita. She will always love me." I shrug. "She's just not as annoying about it now."

Michael doesn't argue but it's clear he doesn't agree. Michael has a nagging wife, but he does t seen as vexed by it as I am. Then again he loves her, so I suppose that's the difference.

I stumble home, shaking my head, opening the door to my home with a curse as I stumble in the dark. Anita stands there, in the middle of the room, like a deer in headlights.

"Waiting for me?" I grunt.

She shakes her head, gathering her book. "I thought you would be gone the night. Excuse me, I'll get out of your way—"

I grab her hand. The room is spinning. What did Michael mean anyway? Anita not loving me? Who is Anita if not the woman who loves me?

"Where are you going? What are you reading?"

Anita looks over me, before looking down, pulling away gently. "You must be tired. I'll leave so you can rest."

I pull her back again with a frown. I'm trying to converse with her. She begged me to talk to her of my day all the time. Now I try and she is no longer interested?

"I went to the pub today," I insist, stumbling further into the room. "With Michael."

She doesn't respond, her eyes cast away. Not even making eye contact. Doesn't she beg me to look at her? And now where are her eyes when I am?

"Excuse me," she whispers.

I frown deeper. "Don't you want to know? You always ask me these things. Where are you going, what are you doing, why can't I come?"

"I will no longer bother you with those questions. Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Maybe it's the alcohol searing in my veins because this is exactly what I've wanted for as long as I can remember. Peace and quiet from this woman. It's raining outside. I'm drenched. She hasn't even told me to change clothes.

"I'm talking to you directly," I persist, dragging her to the couch and sitting next to her. "I will answer you. Ask me what you wish."

Anita is so quiet. So quiet it's loud.

"I don't have questions."
"Of course you do," I scoff. "Were there any women there? Did I talk to them?"

Anita's elegant fingers play with the binding of her book, circling the stitching. It's making me dizzy. Why isn't she saying anything? I clamp my hand down on hers, trying to rid myself of the dizziness.

"Do you hear me, Wife? Ask me and I will answer." I insist, putting my hand over my eyes. Such a headache I have.

"Did you have fun?" She asks.

I smile and nod. "So I did."

She stands and politely leaves me the room. I sit in it. Is that all? I said I would answer any question. Is that the only thing she wants to know? If I had fun?

What if there were truth to Michael's words? Would it be bad for me? Not really. I would prefer it. I close my eyes and drift off, the taste of alcohol on my lips. She didn't even try to kiss me.

She always does, especially when I'm drunk.

Anita is beginning to worry me, a bit. My wife is not a simple woman. She comes from a good background, she's used to getting her way.

Why then, am I so anxious?