The Lover's Diaries

You Did What?!

I study Linda; she seems.... off. I try to think of things that have recently happened that might have her pissed. I can't think of any. And every time I ask, she brushes me off.
"You okay, babe?" I look over to her as we drive him from church.
"Mhm." She answers, not looking at me. She's looking out the window, watching the city turn into cozy Staten Island.
"I'll be willing to listen if you want to talk."
She looks over at me and genuinely smiles. Her smile says she's fine, her eyes say she's holding something back. It's almost as if she's uncomfortable or something. "Thank you, but I-"
"You...?"
She shrugs. "Nothing."
I detect a note of secrecy in her tone. I think to myself what she could be hiding. She couldn't be... I furrow my brow and look over at her. "Hey, Linda?"
"Hm?"
"You wouldn't.... you're not pregnant, are you?"
She almost glares at me. "How can I be pregnant if I haven't had sex with you in three moths?"
Three months. Has it been that long? Gosh, I remember when it was almost everyday. In fact, until three months ago, it was almost every day. I sigh angrily, "you just had to bring that up, didn't you?" I just had to be an ass, didn't I?
"It's not my fault somebody a-" she clamps up, quickly looking out the window.
"Somebody what?"
"Nothing."
"Linda," I say sternly.
"Can't you just- for once in your life- stop prying?!"
I pull into the drive way of our new home. It's furnished and painted, and everything is in there. Now all we need a children, which is a touchy subject.
"No, I don't think I can."
Linda only shakes her head and angrily gets out of the car. She slams the door shut, obviously annoyed.
"Linda!" It comes out as annoyed and exasperated.
When I walk into the house, I hear a door slamming. I can only assume it's the bedroom door. I decide to let her have her peace; we're in different rooms of the house until we need to leave in order to get to Sunday dinner on time.
***********
Linda is prickly all throughout the car ride, to say the least. She doesn't talk or laugh or do any of her regular readings. I want to know what's going on with her.
Before we get out of the car, I try one more time. "Ready to tell me what's got you so bothered?"
"I'm not bothered," Linda says angrily.
"Fine. Be a bitch to me all you want, but be nice to the family, huh?"
"I am not a bitch!"
I hate that I see tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just wish you would tell me what's wrong." Before she can speak, I say, "I know, I know. 'Nothing's bothering me'." I shake my head and get out of the car.
We haven't even been in the house ten minutes when my Mom comes up to me and asks, "what's with you and Linda?"
"I don't know. And that's the truth. She's changed. She was doing well for a while, a good while. But now?" I sigh and shake my head.
Mom nods sympathetically. "It's hard loosing a child."
I nod. About a year ago, Linda had a miscarriage. It was our first baby, and we had barely been married for a year. It was a tough time, not only did she lose the baby, but she temporarily lost her memory. I'll never forget what she said to the doc when I told her we were man and wife. She said, and I quote, 'can I pick 'em of what, Doc?'.
"What's happening with her? I've noticed a lost interest in food."
I shrug, "I don't know, Mom. But don't worry about it. She'll talk when she's ready."
"But, Danny, that's the thing. She's always ready to talk."
I raise an eyebrow.
"What do you think she and I talk about? I know a lot about that girl, because she's willing to open up. But now? Now she seems closed off."
I nod in agreement. "I don't know, Ma." I shrug and walk towards the kitchen; part of me wishes I hadn't, and part of me is so glad I did.
I observe Linda standing a few feet from Jackass, clutching her sweater to her chest. The shoulder on her left side is pulled down, showcasing her milky shoulder. I briefly wonder where her dress strap is before I remember it's a strapless.
"Ask me why I hate you," she sneers, both unaware of my presence. "Ask me why!" She almost demands.
Jack, for once, doesn't come up with a snappy, snarky answer. He just stays silent.
"Because you're a rapist. How dare you!" Her voice falters, but she presses on. "How dare you try to feel me up when my husband's in the other room? How dare you!" There's a definite crack in her voice as she backs up further.
"He'll never know. He doesn't know what we did in college, now does he?"
Man, I want to jump in there and punch his lights out. But I want to see where this college think is going.
"You mean when you raped me?"
"I didn't rape you, Lins. I just went down on you."
"You what?!" I couldn't help myself. I see Linda jump almost to the roof. "You did what?!" I get in Jack's face.
He smiles smugly, "she was practically begging for it."
I look to Linda, who is seething with anger. She walks up to us, gently pushes me out of the way, and punches Jackass squarely in the nose.
He stumbles a bit, while I can't hide my satisfied grin.
"Asking for it?!" She almost yells, face red with anger. "I didn't do dick! You dragged me to the garden shed, held me against my will, and then raped me! I don't care if it was your dick, or your finger, or tongue, or nose, or whatever else! If I don't say yes, it's rape!" She smacks him across the cheek, storming out to the backyard.
"You son of a bitch," I punch him hard in the nose, catching him off guard. He stumbles into the island as I storm out of the kitchen, slamming the door to the outside world.
I immediately see Linda kneeling in the grass, head in her hands, sobbing loudly. I sit next to her, "is that why you've been weird? Cause he's assaulting you?"
She nods and immediately curls into me. Sobbing on my shoulder, she clutches my shirt.
I hug her tightly, anger seething inside me. Finally, my concern for her wins over my anger towards the scum bag. I rub her back, kissing her head. My fingers slide to her chin, tipping it upwards. Her eyes are blurry with tears, and the vibrant blue irises are dull with sadness.
Linda takes in a shuttering breath and nearly slams her lips on mine. She kisses me feverishly through her tears. Her tongue dominantly explores my mouth which she knows so well. Her tears mingle with our saliva, they're warm and salty. Her hands roam my chest, shoulders, and back as she shifts to straddle my lap. Her hands move further down my stomach, and her lips find my neck.
I really wonder about her sometimes. She'll go from crying to desperately needing a shag. But, hey, I ain't complain'. I inhale as she undoes my belt, pops the button from the whole, and brings the zipper down all with one hand.
Before she can go further, Joe calls out, "dinner time!"
"We're coming," I tell him. I wipe the tears from Linda's cheeks, "we'll talk more at home, okay?"
She sniffs and nods, reluctantly standing up.
*************
The whole sordid story comes out that night while we lie in bed. She sobs her way through it, and cries herself to sleep.
I hold her tightly, vowing to make life a living hell for one ass named Jack Boyle.