She was mopey, yet angry. Oh it wasn’t exaggerated; she’s as subtle as a panther on a hunt.
“What’s wrong honey” I asked, flinching a bit so as to steel myself for what would surely be a blowout. She just looked at me and remained silent. Yea, you know the look. Only this one said so many things if it were a mood ring it’d have a pot of gold and its leprechaun inside it.
I guess I should have investigated further, but I figured her silence meant I was her focus; it was something I’d done. As we sat there at the kitchen table I racked my brain for answers; something I might apologize for before she’d need to fashion it into a 2 x 4 and whack me upside the head with it.
It could have been something I’d said; hell, how many hours go by without my inadvertently saying something to tick her off. But I was reasonably certain that the past 48 hours had been gaffe free. In fact I’d been particularly nice to her of late. Just yesterday I’d given her a little Hello Kitty lip gloss for giggles, and she did.
There was something between us that I’d always suspected was a point of friction; my being friends with women. Sure, we discussed it before we married. I just happen to like women better than men. Yes, their minds, not their breasts… necessarily. (I mean I sometimes like their breasts too but not in that way, and I always like their minds more) She says she’s fine with that, she doesn’t feel threatened at all, she knows I love her; but I’ve always harbored doubts, even though she has male friends and I’m just fine with that.
So maybe that was it. Maybe the fact that I spent last evening reminiscing about high school glory days with Cindy Statler made her jealous. Maybe she imagined the two of us, you know, intrawebbing body parts. Well, I don’t know what to say about that, it’s not like I’ve never thought about it before. But honestly, I’ve never laid a finger on her, nor would I; probably because I know she’d tell all her friends. No, no, that’s not the reason. Oh that must be it. I supposed I should open a discussion about last night to see if that was the cause of her pout. But before I could say a word, she spoke in a teeny, shuddering voice.
“You know that bible study class I do on Saturdays? You know, with Molly and Silva and Rachel and Steph?”
“I do,” I replied. “Ruth’s circle isn’t it?”
“Yea, well, we don’t really study the bible.”
My heart sank. Maybe she cheated on me once a week. Maybe it was that guy, what’s his name, Gerry?
“If you have something to tell me, please just spit it out” I said forcefully.
“The five of us rob banks” she said.
Well, there was something I hadn’t considered.