by M J Porter
Chapter Four
Walking through the front door of their flat after three weeks on a hot, sandy beach in Mexico should perhaps have deflated him, and he felt treacherous that all he felt was a relief to be home. The honeymoon had certainly not been what he’d been expecting, and for the entire flight home, as Rebecca had flirted with the guy sat next to her after a mess up with the reserved seats, he’d been tested beyond endurance. Her refusal to be moved from that seat when the furiously blushing stewardess had made the offer, had nearly been enough to have him marching off the plane and staying behind without her.
Her general grumpiness, while they'd come through passport control and customs, had forced him to silence that she’d failed even to notice so caught up in her moaning now that she’d landed and could pick up all her missed email and text messages about the wedding.
Why had he never noticed before that she was no way near as besotted with him as he was with her? He could only put it down to the vast amount of time they’d spent apart during the last three years when he thought they’d both been striving to start their married life on a good footing. Clearly, she’d spent most of the time flirting and enjoying herself, while he’d slogged away at a job he’d hated and had made do with the odd weekend here and there with her, and the even more infrequent weeks away. Perhaps he should have realised that the face she showed him was always that, just a little show. He was getting to know the real Rebecca now, and he feared he didn’t like her.
She’d flopped on their oversized leather sofa the minute they’d walked through the door of their home. He’d wanted to carry her over the threshold as was traditional, but she’d barged her way past him as he’d fought with the luggage and was even now chattering away to someone on the phone. If she wasn’t careful, he might just intentionally lose her bloody phone.
The flat they’d found to live in was a comfortable size and in a good location, close enough to the shops and the underground but far enough away that there wasn’t a constant flow of traffic outside their window. Still, it was a far cry from the rural life he wanted to live. The solitary old oak tree in the front yard was the only piece of greenery for miles around.
Staggering through to the bedroom, he shoved the suitcases out of the way and climbed into the shower. It was nearly dark outside, and he needed to get up for work tomorrow. Rebecca still had another week off from her job, but tomorrow for him was his first day at the University, and he wanted to make a good impression. His marriage might be in tatters, but he could at least look forward to the job he’d longed for.
The water was a hot blast on his slightly burnt shoulders, uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the agony in his heart. Closing his eyes, and relaxing for the first time since they’d left the hotel hours ago, he felt hot tears running down his face.
He’d tried so hard all honeymoon to be accommodating and mindful of his new wife’s needs, but however he looked at it, she didn’t seem to want anything that he did. Quiet, romantic dinners had been off the menu in favour of raucous nights out in the local bars and clubs, and even spending time together on the beach had been a rarity. He’d thought she’d wanted the heat of Mexico to sunbathe in but really, she’d just used it as an excuse to wear as little as possible when they’d been out.
He knew he hadn’t looked at another woman all holiday. Rebecca’s eyes had barely looked at him. On occasion, it had felt as though she’d have had more fun if he’d not been there.
A knock on the bathroom door had him hastily stifling his tears.
“Don’t use all the hot water. I need a shower too,” she shouted through the still closed door. Knowing he couldn’t physically wash away the dirt of the honeymoon that clung to him, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in an enormous white towel. It felt as luxurious as the ones in the hotel, and he hoped that they were a wedding gift and not something that Rebecca had brought on the spur of the moment, fluttering her money away while he’d been hard at work.
When he left the bathroom, she was perched on the edge of the bed, tapping away on her phone. Her eyes looked brighter than under the Mexican sun, and he wondered, again, why she’d wanted to go there at all.
“Finally, I thought you’d maybe drowned in there,” she spoke as she hastily pulled off her clothes and padded naked into the bathroom.
“Well you could always have joined me,” he responded, and she looked at him with a strange look in her eyes.
“Why would you say something like that?” she asked.
He looked at her perfect naked body and shrugged hopelessly, why indeed, he thought. She turned her back on him, and he flopped backwards onto the bed. It looked like the atmosphere at home was just as tense as when they’d been away. What the hell was he going to do?
