“I can’t believe you were going on job interviews and I had no clue you were even looking for a job. You’ve kept me out of the loop on this one.”
“You’re making it sound like I was trying to hide it from you, but it isn’t like that at all. As I said, you’re never here so when was I supposed to tell you?”
“Exactly the way you’re telling me right now.”
“Yeah, anyway, I was calling to tell you because I’m excited about it. I was hoping you could be excited for me as well, but I can see that’s not happening. I’m gonna let you go.”
“I’m sorry. If you’re excited, then I’m excited for you. We’ll talk about it more tonight. Love you.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone and sat staring at the receiver. Other than being a doctor, there was one thing I was good at, and that was pissing off my wife. Of course, that wasn’t my intention, but I’m not sure how she expected me to react to her news.
When we got married, she was all about being a housewife. She loved it, or at least she seemed to. When we were signing the papers to close on the house, she had a hard time hiding her excitement. All she could talk about was all the things she wanted to do in the house.
She was all about how she would decorate, how she would set up the rooms, all the cooking she was going to do, how she was going to learn to garden so she could prepare meals with fresh produce she grew herself.
I have to admit; she is a beast in the kitchen. For years, I would pull into the garage and could smell what she was making in the kitchen. One day it would be spicy sausage and peppers, the next would be homemade pasta sauce and hand-made noodles. She loved being in the kitchen, and I often wonder how I’m not overweight by 100 pounds.
Over time, all of the little things she used to do began to stop. She went from cooking meals every night, to most nights, to pretty much never. I’ve never once complained, although I do miss coming home to the food on the table. Not so much because I feel like a woman has to cook for her husband, but because she was so damn good at it.
Kayla’s food could rival any restaurant in the area. The restaurants that we mostly live on now since cooking is not one of my strong suits. Takeout, takeout, and more takeout is what we eat now. Dinner plans typically consist of her texting me and telling me what she’s picking up and me replying with my order.
We don’t even go out to dinner anymore. I used to like to get dressed up to take her somewhere nice at least a couple of times a month, but she isn’t interested in that anymore. The only time I can get her to come out is when a pharmaceutical rep is taking me out, and I have to basically beg, plead, and grovel to get her to do that.
I’m not entirely sure what has changed in our marriage. I work long hours, but it isn’t like she didn’t know what she was getting into. I’ve always been a hard worker. I worked hard through medical school, and I work even harder to build my practice. I figure working hard now will allow me to enjoy life later. I bank my money so I can retire early and spend my time with my wife.
Now I’m wondering if it’s been worth it.
I’ve always had a plan for our future, and I always assumed she’d be on board with it. While it was never formally discussed, I always figured that once I had the practice thoroughly established, she’d come and work for me in the office. Hell, if she wanted to get out of the house, I could have used the help. I’ve thought about asking her many times, but she has put some much space in between us, I figured she was enjoying her time at home without me.
Maybe that’s exactly what this was all about. Perhaps she wanted to get away from the house altogether. Maybe the life I was giving her wasn’t the life she wanted.
I feel like I’m missing something.
Something didn’t make sense, and I was trying to figure out what it was. Was my marriage on its last legs and I’ve just been too blind to see it?
3
Kayla
My stomach was in knots, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I felt like a kid getting ready to go on their first day in a new school, except the school year was already halfway over, and everyone had already made friends.
I couldn’t believe I was about to have my first day of work in nearly a decade. I was so nervous that I couldn’t even touch the breakfast I’d made for myself, and I had to force myself to suck down my coffee.
The hours at a manufacturing plant are far different from any of the office jobs I’ve worked at in the past. I was accustomed to a work day that was a standard 9 to 5, but my new schedule was going to be 11 am to 11 pm, four days per week. I only hoped that there would be some cool people to talk to or that was going to make for some long work days.
I didn’t know much about what my day was going to entail. The only thing I knew for sure was that there would be someone with me in the office until 3 pm each day, which is when their shift ended.
If I had to choose a couple of words to describe how I felt as I looked at the clock, it was scared shitless. What was I getting myself into? Why in the hell did I apply to work at a factory? Why in the hell did they hire me? Surely there had to be someone much more qualified who applied. Maybe I was making a huge mistake.
For some reason, I’d gotten up before the sun. It was partly nerves and partly because I wanted to do something nice for Dillon since this was new to him as well. Despite what he might be thinking, my choice to get a job outside of the house didn’t have anything to do with him, and I intended to talk to him about that as soon as our schedules meshed up.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I forced myself to start getting ready to start my first shift. Even though my stomach was twisted up in knots, I figured I’d be starving at some point, so I packed myself a turkey and cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple, and a banana for lunch and threw it all in a cooler along with a couple of bottles of water. I sat the cooler next to the front door, so I wouldn’t forget and made my way to the bathroom so I could jump in the shower.
I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and propped my tablet up on the sink so I could listen to my music while I washed. It was a habit that I’d started when relaxing in the tub and it became an obsession.
I hit shuffle, and the sounds of Hey There Delilah by Plain White T’s filled the room. Since it was one of my favorite songs, I hoped that it was an indication that the day was going to go great. Little did I know that my day was going to be ruined before I even made it out of the house.
“All ready for your first day?” Dillon asked, walking into the bathroom as I was drying off.
“I’m not really sure,” I replied. “I didn’t think I’d be as nervous as I am. I feel like I could vomit.”
“There’s still time to call them and tell them you changed your mind. It’s not like you signed a contract or anything. You can still stay home.”
“Dillon, please don’t start with me. I know you don’t want me to do this, but I need to do it for me. You’re gone at the practice all the time, and I’m here by myself. At least this way, I can get out of the house during the week and contribute to the household.”
“Have you seen the bank account lately?” Dillon asked with a load of snark in his voice. “We don’t exactly need the household to be contributed to. You make it sound like I’m out running around at the bars or something. I’m gone all day for us. I’m gone all the time at the practice because I’m putting in the hard work so we can have anything we want in life. I always thought you appreciated that.”
“I do, Dillon. I appreciate it very much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely.”
“Do I need to remind you’re the one who said you wanted to be a housewife? You were so excited and used to tell anyone who would listen that you get to take care of the house while your man works to pay the bills. Hell, when we were dating, you told me that you were old fashioned and dreamed of being a housewife.”
“That was always my dream, but this wasn’t at all
what I had in mind. When I said I wanted to be a housewife, I imagined being a wife and a mother. I pictured my days being spent playing outside with our children, preparing their meals and cleaning up after them. I never dreamed that I’d be a housewife in a house all by myself.”
“Kayla, we have gone over this time and time again. There’s a time for kids, but this isn’t it.”
“Well, I have a feeling that that time has passed anyway, so it doesn’t really matter anyway.”
He sat in silence, looking at me as I dried my hair and got dressed for work. It felt weird getting dressed in jeans and a t-shirt since every job I’d ever had required me to be dressed in business attire except for the occasional casual Friday’s.
Even weirder was having to put on a pair of steel-toed work boots. Although I technically had an office job, there were going to be times when I had to walk around the plant, so the footwear was required. They were a lot different from the pumps I used to choose for comfort and style. These boots were not only uncomfortable, but they were ugly as hell.
Dillon remained silent, looking down at the tile, not sure what to say. If there was one thing he was used to, it was getting his way. Throughout life, he got what he wanted. It was never handed to him, and he had to fight and claw for everything he had, but in the end, he was used to getting his way. I could see the fact that he wasn’t winning this one was eating at him. Part of me felt guilty, but a larger part of me was utterly annoyed.
“So what is this all about?” he asked as I finished curling my hair and was starting to put on my makeup.
“What’s all of what about? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Well, you’re going to work in a factory, right?”
“Yes,” I replied, hoping the conversation wasn’t heading in the direction that I thought it was.
“Aren’t most factories dirty and dingy?”
“I guess so, although this place is actually really clean. Besides, I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It’s not like I’m dressed in any of my nice clothes.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, Kayla. What’s the deal with the hair and makeup?”
“You have a problem with me wanting to look nice on my first day of work?”
“Not necessarily, but let me ask you a question. How many women work at this factory?”
“I don’t know, Dillon. I haven’t started yet.”
“Okay, but you were there for your interview, right? How many women did you see?”
“I don’t know, a few?”
“Right, a few. That means the majority of the people that are going to be working there are men, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Exactly, so don’t play me for a fool. The hair, the makeup, you’re doing that all so you can look nice for the men at work.”
“Are you fucking crazy? You do realize that I’ll be working in an office with another woman, right? I’m getting made up to make myself look good, not because I’m going to be around a bunch of guys.”
“I’m sure that has nothing to do with it.”
“What is the matter with you today? I get that you're upset about all of this, but what have I ever done to make you think that I would be unfaithful or try to get the attention of other men?”
“Nothing, I suppose.”
“No, I’m not going to accept that answer. You’ve obviously got something in your head so why don’t you tell me what it is? Why makes you think that me doing my hair and makeup has anything to do with the guys I’ll be working around?”
“Honestly? Why don’t you tell me when the last time you did your hair for me was? What about the last time you put on your makeup to look good for me? You stopped doing all of that shit for me a long time ago. Even when we go out with drug reps, you pull your hair back into a ponytail, and that’s it. You’re getting more made up to go into a building full of strangers than you’ve done for me in years.”
I was getting furious but was trying my best to keep my composure. The last thing I needed was to get upset and start crying before my first day. It would wreck my mascara.
“I can’t do this right now, Dillon. I can’t believe you would want to do this right now.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said through gritted teeth as I stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed my things, and made my way towards the front door.
“Try to have a good first day at work,” he yelled as I was slamming the front door behind me. I responded with a middle finger in the air that he couldn’t see unless he had developed x-ray vision.
I had to sit in my car for a few moments before I could start it. I felt like he’d just started the fight with me in an attempt to ruin my first day. That had to be it, right? But the things he was saying, was he wrong?
4
Dillon
I shouldn’t have been surprised. My penchant for fucking things up and making small matters huge was on full display that morning.
There was no ill will or any intention of starting an argument before she left. We hadn’t had much time to talk lately, and I wanted to see her off to work since I didn’t have any morning appointments.
My first instinct was to feel bad for upsetting her. I thought about sending her a text message since I was sure I wouldn’t be able to get her if I called her. I even picked my phone up and entered my passcode to unlock it before becoming disgusted with myself and putting it back down on my desk.
I was tired of always being the one who had to apologize. I was sick and tired of everything being my fault. It wasn’t like anything that was coming out of my mouth was a lie. She didn’t do her hair for me anymore. She didn’t put on makeup for me like she used to. She didn’t do anything anymore.
What was worse is that I wasn’t supposed to ever bring it up. Anytime I even hinted at the subject; she would change the topic to something completely different. She tried to be subtle about it, but I knew exactly what she was doing.
I listened for her to start her car and leave before I left the house. I didn’t have it in me to fight anymore right then. I had a few afternoon appointments and wanted to go ahead and get into the office so I could try to clear my head. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to do that at home.
I had three patients that afternoon, and I treated them professionally as always, but my mind was definitely on my wife and the argument at home. The more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder if I hadn’t been wrong all along.
Maybe I really was an asshole. She’d been staying at home for our entire marriage, cooking and cleaning an almost constantly empty house. I thought women loved a hard worker, but I also understood the concept of being lonely. Maybe getting out of the house and working would be good for her. It would give her some human interaction and allow her to talk to people instead of sitting alone all day.
It was bizarre walking into a dark, empty house. Usually, Kayla would have her music playing, and the aroma of whatever she was cooking would hit my nose before I even made it through the door that connected the house to the garage.
The feeling was almost surreal as I placed my keys in the small glass bowl that we kept on a tiny table next to the door and they clinked off the bowl instead of falling on top of hers. The sound echoed throughout the house.
I hadn’t eaten since early that morning, and I was starving. I was debating between pizza and Chinese when I opened the door to grab a beer and saw a large dish inside with a note on top of it. I grabbed the piece of paper and opened it up.
Sweetheart,
I know that you don’t like the idea of me going back to work and I just wanted to thank you for not giving me a hard time about it. I know you’re used to dinner being on the table when you get home and although this isn’t quite on the table, I hope it gets the job done. Throw this in the oven for 20 minutes at 350 degrees. There’s some of that cheese garlic bread that you like in the freezer. I hope you had a great day at work. See you t
onight.
Love always,
Kayla
I pulled back the foil and saw that she’d made lasagna, my favorite dish. If I wasn’t already feeling like a schmuck before, I sure as shit was after reading that. I never denied the fact that Kayla was an amazing woman. On her first day of work, she got up early, prepped and cooked an entire lasagna just so I’d have dinner when I came home.
Sighing, I grabbed a beer, turned the oven on and sat down on the couch. I really was a lucky man. Sure, she and I hadn’t been on the same page for quite a while, but we still loved each other. At least I thought we did. I know that I loved her, but was she still feeling the same about me, especially after the fight that morning? The note said love always, but I couldn’t really remember the last time she told me she loved me without me saying it first.
I had another beer once I popped the lasagna into the oven and grabbed one to have with dinner once it was done. Kayla hated it when I drank beer with dinner. I could almost hear her telling me how unsophisticated it was as she grabbed a bottle of wine like she had done during countless dinners over the years.
What the hell, I thought to myself before walking over to the wine rack and grabbed a bottle of Rioja Crianza, a wine that my wife would describe as a medium-bodied red wine, whatever that means. I popped the cork, poured a glass and sat down to have my dinner.
It only took one bite for me to realize what a jackass I’d been that afternoon. Here I was giving her shit over something as petty as her hair and makeup after she’d taken the time to make a lasagna for me for dinner. I made a mental note to apologize for the fight and thank her for dinner. It tasted much better than whatever take out I would have been eating otherwise.
Bought Page 8
