Waters Fall (9 page)

There was only this prevailing cloud of unsettling discontent and despair.

Next month, they'd be celebrating sixteen years of marriage, but as far as she was concerned, there was little left to celebrate. Even before Jake's unexpected drinking excursion, Nora's disillusionment was overwhelming, and she dreaded the upcoming milestone, especially after the last few weeks. Her mother was already making plans to keep the kids for the weekend, so they could have some time alone, but Nora left things up in the air with her, not wanting to commit to anything. She wasn’t making plans to leave Jake, but that didn’t mean she felt like going out of her way to spend time alone with him, either.

“I hate my husband,” she said into the stillness of their bedroom. At first, the words sounded silly to her, childish. She'd never spoken them out loud before, and flushed with embarrassment. But then she tried them again. “I hate my husband. I really hate my husband.” She nodded, now feeling a little proud of herself for being brave enough to say so.
“Yep. I hate my husband.” She sat up on the edge of the bed and said it again. She told her lamp she hated her husband. To her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, she said, “Do you know that you hate your husband?” She looked up at the ceiling. “God? Are You listening? I hate that man You gave me.” Then she had the decency to cover her mouth in shame. But she didn’t take it back.

Sobered, she pulled on a pair of leggings, a fluttery skirt with an uneven hemline, and flipped through the hangers in her closet until she found a silky little top with three-quarter sleeves. She'd go without a jacket today. Grabbing a pair of silver sandals, she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Jake was apparently still in the bathroom. She
knocked, a sharp rap on the hollow door.

“The bedroom’s all yours, Jake.”

“It's me, Mom.” Felix opened the bathroom door, a forlorn look on his face.

“Oh! Well, good morning, sweetheart!” Nora reached out and ruffled his already messy hair. “You're up early.”

“I heard you stub your toe, Mom. You yelled like a freak.”

“My toe?
I didn't stub my toe.” She held up her foot for inspection. Jake must have made that one up, but she wasn't letting him off the hook so easily.

“Dad said you did.” Felix scowled, and shot a glance toward the kitchen.

“Hm.” She leaned down and spoke in a stage whisper. “He's got a good imagination, doesn't he?”

Felix just looked confused.
“Well, I heard you yell.”

“Oh that. Yeah. Sorry I woke you up. I didn't mean to. Are you okay?”

“No. Dad got up on the wrong side of the bed and is being totally poopy.  You might want to stay out of his way.”

“Ah. Yes.”
He woke up on the couch, Felix, not the wrong side of the bed.
She forced her smirk into a grimace for Felix’ sake. “I think I'll take your advice and steer clear, okay?”

“You seem to be in a good mood in spite of your toe that you didn't stub.” Felix was still grumbling
, his shoulders slumped as they walked down the hall together.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I think I am. I didn't start that way, on account of the toe I didn't stub,” she hopped on one foot to demonstrate, hoping to cheer him up a little. “But I'm feeling better now. Maybe instead of my toe, I just stubbed
the poopy out of me.”

Felix couldn't help it. He giggled.
“Mom!”

“What?” Her brows arched high above her wide, innocent eyes.

Jake was setting breakfast dishes out on the island when they came into the kitchen. He wouldn't look at either of them, a sure sign that he was feeling badly about the way things were already going this morning. She glanced over at the table, but none of her things had been touched. He must have seen her looking.

“I didn't touch anything.”

Nora didn't bother responding. He sounded like a sulking little boy. Felix, either defensive because of the encounter he’d already had with Jake, or because he sensed the tension in the air between his parents, hiked himself up onto a stool and sat quietly, tracing circles in the pattern of the tile on the counter top.

Just then Leslie schlepped out of her room. She usually got up around six; she now styled her hair, and Nora let her wear a little make-up, so she needed the extra time in the mornings to get ready for school.

“Are you guys okay?” She didn't beat around the bush as she came into the kitchen and perched on another stool next to Felix. She looked over at Nora, then back at Jake.

Nora wasn't going to lie to the kids. Jake, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about doing so.
“We’re fine, Les.”

Everyone stared at him, but Nora didn
’t speak. Let him take responsibility for the situation. She wasn’t going to make any more excuses for him the way she'd done years ago.

“Dad's in a poopy mood and Mom's not.” Felix interjected into the silence that stretched out uncomfortably.

“That’s it!” Jake banged a pan down on the stove top. Everyone jumped at the sound. Even Jake winced a little. “What did you say to him, Nora?”

“Excuse me?” Nora was honestly taken aback by his accusation. “I didn't have to say anything. He's not stupid,
Jake.”

“Great. This is just great.” Jake crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his family on the other side of the counter. “So I'm in a crappy mood. Is that a crime?”

“No.” Felix continued to move his fingertip along the grout lines and didn't look up at his Dad. “Sorry.”

Leslie didn't look too happy either, but she smiled tentatively at Jake.
“Maybe you're just not feeling good yet, Daddy. Maybe you should go back to bed.”

“Back to bed?”
Jake guffawed. “Back to bed? What a novel idea.”

“Jake.” Nora didn't have to say it, but she did anyway. “Cool it.”

“
You
are telling me to cool it?” Jake raised his arm and pointed at her.

“All right.
That's enough.” Nora was not going to do this right now. “I'm taking over breakfast. You go deal with yourself. In the bedroom.” She came around the end of the counter toward him, hoping he would comply before things got ugly in front of the kids.

“I can go to bed now, Mommy?
In my own room?” Jake's sarcasm was ugly to hear, but the look on his face was even worse. “Yippy!” He clapped his hands together, three times, hard, then stormed out of the room. Nora opened the fridge and took out the eggs. She began breaking some into the pan that he'd left heating up on the lighted burner.

“What was all that about?” Leslie looked wide-eyed, shocked. Felix kept his head down. When she didn't answer right away, Leslie spoke again, accusation in her voice. “Well? I thought you two were working things out last night. That's what you told me.”

“Hey.” Nora turned around to look at her daughter. “Watch your tone with me. We are working on things, but some things take longer to process through than others. Your dad is dealing with some stuff right now, and we need to let him.”

“Is that why he slept on the couch last night?” Felix
asked.

Leslie's head jerked around to look at her brother.
“Dad slept on the couch?”

“Yes.” Nora sighed, submitting to the inevitable. They were going to do this right now, after all. “Like I said, he has some things he needs to work out, some decisions to make, and sleeping in the same room right now makes it a little confusing.”

“So how long has all this been going on?” Leslie was not happy.

“A while, Les.”

“He's been sleeping on the couch for a while? How long is a while?” Now she was appalled.

“No. He only slept there last night. And part of the night before.”

“You made him sleep on the couch even though he's sick? Or was that a lie, too?” Leslie crossed her arms over her budding chest, the frown on her face making her look just like Jake.

“Actually, Les, he has been sick.” She wouldn't tell them why. That was Jake's job.

“And you made him sleep on the couch? Because he was sick?” This time it was Felix who spoke, looking aghast over her cold-hearted treatment of his ailing father. Nora squeezed her eyes shut, just for a moment. If only they knew.

“He was barfing, guys. He didn't want to puke on me.”

“Gross, Mom.” Leslie wrinkled her nose.

“Exactly.
And last night, well, we just needed to spend some time alone. That, my children, is where things stand for now.” Nora fleetingly thought about the way she'd spent the afternoon, how charming Tristan had been, how good it felt to be flirted with. But just as she was beginning to feel a twinge of guilt, she heard Jake's words from last night, right before she cut him off; echoes of words she’d heard too many times before, words drenched in remorse and shame.

“There was this waitress....”

11

T
he day of their anniversary dawned overcast and
heavy, much the way Jake felt as he peered through the slats of the window beside the fireplace. He was still sleeping in the living room. The kids knew, but they didn't ask about it. Once they were tucked in bed, he and Nora hardly spoke, even though she rarely went back to her office at night anymore. They seldom used the table for meals because it had become her work space, and she doggedly refused his offer to clear a space for her in his office.

She got up and ready in the mornings before the children, made them breakfast, packed their lunches, dropped them off, and then picked them up after school, just like she said she would. She took them to their events, attending most of them without him.

“Why are you doing this, Nor? I
am
their father, and I’d like to attend school functions, too.”

She just pointed at his phone and eyed him across the table.
“The school doesn't keep their schedules a secret, Jake. All you have to do is call. The kids write most of the stuff on the calendar anyway. Maybe you should look at it every once in a while.”

The calendar was a sore spot for him and he made every effort
not
to look at it. He could not, for the life of him, remember to have the kids write stuff down on it, but now that Nora was Commander-in-Chief, they dutifully marched in the door, made a beeline for the refrigerator, filled in any necessary information, and pulled out the tray of snacks their mother had prepared for them; cheese slices, vegetable sticks, and their favorites, dill pickles.

She also took over making the evening meals. The first time she found him in the kitchen when she and the kids arrived home from school, she acted surprised, staring at him like he
’d grown a second head.

“Oh! What are you doing in here, Jake?”

“I'm making dinner.”

“Well, that’s nice of you, but you need to let me know ahead of time,” she said, not unkindly. “I already have plans for dinner. Remember? Feeding the children is my job, not yours. If you would like to provide a meal for the kids, check with me, first, okay?” She spoke to him like he was a presumptuous guest in her house.

“Then what, exactly,
is
my contribution to this household?” He followed her to the table where she was setting out dishes.

“I've been wondering the same thing for years.”

He’d walked right into that one.

That was less than a week ago. Now, here it was their anniversary, and the weather couldn't be more appropriate. Nora hadn't said a word about what she wanted to do, and he didn't dare make any plans without consulting her first.

He got up and straightened the couch, folding his bedding up and stuffing it into the bottom drawer of the TV console. He still couldn't believe he'd spent the last two and a half weeks sleeping out here. It wasn't uncomfortable, but he missed his bed, his room, his wife. Oh, how he missed sleeping next to his wife.

“I miss my wife,” he muttered. Things were so different now. They conversed only about things like home
maintenance and grocery lists. She left with the kids in the morning, not returning, even for lunch like she often used to, until the end of the day when she picked Felix and Leslie up. And since they both had after-school activities right now, the house stayed quiet for a long time.

Jake should have been getting a lot of work done but he couldn
’t focus. Hours went by in a day without his being aware of time passing. Then he'd scramble to have something to show for his time before everyone got home.

Not that it mattered anyway. It wasn't like she was checking up on him.

Well, today, he was going to make an effort to change things. They couldn't continue on like this indefinitely, and he was just going to have to take the bull by the horns.

He would begin this day with taking her breakfast in bed. Nothing fancy, just things he knew she liked. He put on the coffee, strong the way she preferred it, located her favorite blue mug, and set it on a serving tray he
’d found among the cookie sheets. In the breadbox was a new package of cheese bagels, a local bakery specialty. He toasted one and dug around in the fridge until he found the tub of whipped cream cheese. He also discovered some seedless grapes in the fruit drawer and added a bunch of them to the tray.

Jake tapped lightly on the bedroom door but there was no answer. When he pushed it open ahead of him, he held his breath, anticipating the worst. He reached the foot of the bed before he realized she hadn't heard him at all. She was sound asleep, lying so that she faced his side of the bed, one hand spread out on the blanket where his chest would usually be. He could almost feel her fingers resting over his heart.

He set the tray on his nightstand, sat down, and picked up her hand, bringing it to his mouth. Gently, tenderly, he kissed her knuckles. A tremor of pleasure raced through him at the sight of her smiling dreamily as she opened her eyes to look up at him.

The light of recognition dawned on her face as she jerked her hand out of his.
“Jake!” She said his name like she'd been expecting someone else. “What are you doing?”

He shook his head, alarm tripping through him.
“I'm bringing you breakfast in bed. It's our anniversary.”

“Oh.” She had the grace to sound a little embarrassed, but Jake didn’t feel any better.

“Yeah. Oh. So I take it that wasn’t me you were dreaming about?” Why? Why, oh why did he have to open his mouth? Why did stuff like that always come out of him? He would give anything to take those words back. Nora closed her eyes and rolled away from him, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders.

“Go away, Jake. I'm not hungry.”

“Come on, Nora. Give me a break. I'm sorry.”

“You didn't knock.”

“Yes, I did. But you were sound asleep.”

“You shouldn't have come in, then.”

“It's our anniversary, for crying out loud, Nor! When are you going to forgive me? How long are you going punish me? I screwed up, okay? I'm sorry. I don't know how to be any more sorry than I already am. What else do you want from me?”

The answer was soft, muffled, and he had to lean forward to hear her.
“What?”

“I want you to undo it.”

“Undo what?” He figured he knew what she meant, but it seemed such a silly thing for her to say. He couldn't just “undo” everything.

“Never mind, Jake.
Go away.”

He sat there a long time, waiting, hoping she'd say something more, something hopeful. Finally, he stood.

“There's coffee and breakfast. I'm leaving it here. I'll feed the kids this morning.”

“Thank you.” He was just closing the door behind him when she said it, but he knew he wasn't imagining it. Those two little words stopped him in his tracks.

Hope. Only a flicker, but it was there. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the kitchen to fry up some eggs.

The day was no different than any other, and the evening was spent as usual, too. But after the kids were in bed, instead of sitting down to work at the table again, Nora opened a bottle of her favorite sparkling wine. She poured herself a tall glass of the bubbly, amber liquid, and disappeared into the bathroom, humming softly as she walked past the living room where he sat on the couch, pushing buttons on the remote control. He heard the bathtub filling with water, and he breathed in the aroma of sandalwood and tea rose drifting out into the hallway; bath oils she reserved for special occasions.

He turned the television off and sat forward, listening intently to the sounds coming from down the hall. He'd shared this experience with her enough times that he could close his eyes and imagine exactly what the scene would be in there.

…clothes puddle on the floor, one pale foot, then the other, stepping over the side of the tub. The water, way too hot, turning her skin pink as she sinks down into the scented bubbles. Her sigh of pleasure as she leans back against the little blow-up pillow she keeps in there for just this purpose. She’s closing her eyes, one hand draped over the lip of the tub, the other holding her chilled glass high….

Jake didn't like taking baths, but he loved it when she did. She used to invite him in with her, but after a few miserable attempts, primarily due to the painfully high water temperature she preferred, he opted to wait his turn until she was almost done. They usually talked quietly, twining fingers, the world completely tuned out, while they tuned in to each other. The night inevitably ended with a session of the kind of love-making that left her purring and curled up against his side, and him a satiated and happy man. Jake never felt more like her hero than he did in those moments.

He needed her tonight. He was going crazy without her. He stood up and began pacing the room. This was insane. She was his wife. He was her husband. Why couldn't they work this out?

The open floor-plan of the living room, dining area, and kitchen, gave him ample space to wander. He opened the fridge door, closed it again. His jaw was beginning to ache from clenching his teeth, and his shoulders were tight, his breathing shallow. Balling his fists, he shoved them in the pockets of his 501s.

He crossed to the sink where he splashed water into a glass. Half of it sloshed over the rim as he brought it to his lips, spilling down the front of his shirt.

His hands were shaking as he set the glass down too close to the edge of the counter, then he cursed as it toppled into the sink, shards of glass skittering around the porcelain basin. He grabbed a paper towel and carelessly swept the pieces together to scoop them out.

“Ouch!” He cursed again as a sliver of glass pierced his finger just below the bend of the first knuckle. He turned on the faucet and ran his finger under the cold water, blood turning the fragments still in the sink into swirled Murano glass. Jake roughly pinched and squeezed his finger, reveling in the pain it was causing—who would have thought one tiny little shard could hurt so badly—until he had forced the sliver out far enough to grab it.

He threw it in the sink with the rest of the pieces and stared at the mess, then smacked both hands flat against the counter, leaving a smear of blood behind.

“Enough!” He was done playing this game. No more. He was going to
his
bedroom, he was going to get undressed, and he was going to wait for
his
wife in
his
bed. He was going to demand
his
conjugal rights, and then they were going to sleep pressed together, right where they both belonged.

He marched down the hall and paused outside the bathroom door, just to ascertain that she was still splashing around in the tub. He heard her singing softly and paused, listening. She had such a pretty voice; it
’d been a long time since he'd last heard it. Suddenly she stopped mid-phrase, and there was silence. He had taken one stealthy step away from the door when she called out.

“Jake?”

He closed his eyes, berating himself for lurking outside her door. “Yes?”

“Can you do me a favor?” She sounded very relaxed.

“Of course.”
As long as it isn't sleeping on the couch anymore.

“Can you bring me my robe, honey?”