Maneater: Recovery & Redemption

Chapter 2

"My poor husband," I whimpered as I stood beside Shawn in his hospital bed. I dabbed my eyes, desperate to assure the nurse I was grieving. The sight of the tubes in his nose, him hooked up to that heart monitor, and his even pastier complexion actually was a painful sight. More damage had been done to his heart than I would've imagined. A part of me felt somewhat guilty, as I'd been cooking all the shit that landed him here.

"Ma'am, your husband has very high cholesterol and it's imperative that his diet change immediately if he is to recover," she informed me.

"Of course, I will get right on that," I lied. "I will take him home today and make sure that he get plenty of leafy greens and exercise."

"Great. The doctor has a referral for you for him to see a nutritionist, also," she informed me.

Don't waste your time, I wanted to say. I wouldn't be taking him to any nutritionist, and he damn sure wouldn't be taking himself.

I sat with Shawn as doctors came in and ran test after test to ensure that he was stable enough to go home. Well, in a world where twenty-somethings are having heart attacks, much more than their weight needs to be considered. I thought about Shawn's behaviors and attitude towards life in general. He was bossy, manipulative, and probably caused himself unnecessary stress by being such a douche. If he yelled at me rapidly, there was no doubt in my mind that he did the same to his staff. That would cause the spike in blood pressure daily, and his eating habits were atrocious. I never argued with him over it, because as far as he was concerned, it wasn't my place. My job was to feed him and fuck him, not much else.

Around sunset, he glared at me.

"Go home, I'm tired of you looking at me with pity," he barked.

"Shawn, I'm supporting you through this ordeal. Where else would I be?"

"Well, you should be home, making sure that the place is in order for when I'm discharged. Are the sheets clean? Are the dishes clean? What about the clothes? Did you get anything done today?"

I released a slow breath before answering. "Well, hun, not too much longer after you left for work I got the call about your heart attack. I didn't get much time to get anything done."

"So you sat around doing nothing, huh?" he asked, insinuating that I was a lazy bitch yet again. "I'm sick of you just sitting around and spending all of my money."

"I didn't spend anything," I recanted firmly. My loving wife routine was starting to fall to the wayside. "I was taking care of chores that I have to do because you won't help out."

"Well, you're there all day. Why should I help?"

I exhaled exasperatedly, rolling my eyes at him and not caring if he saw. He hated insubordination, but I was tired of his shit.

"Don't roll your eyes again. If you know what's good for you, you won't do it again."

I erupted from my seat where I'd let his fat fingers fall from my hand after the nurse left, and stormed over to him. Bending over, I got right in his face. His breath reeked of acidic bile, probably from whatever greasy concoction he'd chain swallowed before being brought in.

"What are you going to do about it?" I whispered harshly. "You can't even take care of yourself, and you have the nerve to get fresh with me, the only ally you've got? If things get bad for you, who's going to wash your filthy ass and cook just enough for you to stay alive? You think you can do any of that on your own, fat boy?"