George Murphy stirred from his sleep.
Damn, I need to piss.
In the dark, he rolled out of bed and looked at the nightstand to check the time. Nothing.
'That's right; the power was out when we got home last night.'
Illuminating his wristwatch, George discovered it was four A.M.
Still, as he wobbled towards the bath, he wondered why it hadn't been restored. The warm summer night hadn't been interrupted by any storms. Earlier, he'd just chalked it up to some yahoo using his car for impact tests on a power pole. Surely, the power should be back by now.
Upon returning from the bath, he fumbled around on the nightstand for his cell phone. Its display would make do as a flashlight so he could make it down the stairs without taking a Brody, look up the number for the electric company and find out when the power would be back on.
No sooner had he gotten the phone illuminated and taken a couple of steps, when his wife Lyn stirred.
"Where you going, sweetheart?" She sounded surprisingly alert for the hour.
"To call Public Service and find out when the fucking power will be back on," he growled.
"I already did."
"And?"
"It was turned off because...the bill wasn't paid."
"Well, isn't that just peachy!" he replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster at this ungodly hour, turned off his mobile and flopped back into bed.
Although the room was deadly quiet, his mind seethed with a cacophony of thoughts.
There was enough money in the account to pay it, he was most certain about that and would check it in the morning. But more disturbing was the notion that Lyn was reverting to her old ways, just like when they had nearly gotten divorced a year or so ago...
It had been a Friday, that much he remembered, a gorgeous spring day in May. Or was it April? However; his mood sat in juxtaposition to the weather - a storm that had taken years to develop and would make landfall upon his arrival home from work.
That had been about four in the afternoon and Lyn was at the table reading the paper as he entered the kitchen from the garage. It was still the same shambles as when he left that morning. Dirty dishes stacked on the counter, pots soaking in the sink with various piles of mail scattered about the counters.
It didn't seem possible, but his mood soured even more.
After quick "Hi!" and a peck on the cheek, George went to the pantry.
'What do we have to drink in this joint? Looks like it's vodka or...vodka.'
George took the bottle from the shelf and proceeded to make a screwdriver martini.
"Would you fix me one too, please?" she asked.
He did. Not as strong as his, but healthy nonetheless.
"Since it's so nice out, why don't we take these out to the deck and sit in the swing?" she suggested.
George took a healthy swallow before replying vaporously, "Sure, why not?"
After settling into the swing, Lyn began the routine evening conversation by asking how his day was.
Calming himself with another slug, he sat with his elbows on his knees, holding the glass in both hands with his eyes fixed on his beverage.
"Lyn," he began, "I really can't go on like this."
"Like what?"
"Being married to you," he replied flatly.
"WHAT?"
"You heard me."
"But why?"
"You mean you really don't have a clue?" he asked incredulously.
"Not really."
"That's hard to believe," he said coldly and shifted his gaze to meet her now watery eyes. "I'm just tired of being the only one with an oar in the water around here."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I don't know what the fuck you do all day. I'm busting my ass at work ten hours a day to make sure my business succeeds so the bills get paid and when I come home, it's obvious you haven't done shit all day. The same dirty pots and pans are in the sink, the bathroom still needs cleaning and the dust bunnies are still at large.
"Wait, that's not exactly correct. You have managed to read the paper and probably a couple a magazines and a romance novel."
"Well," she replied meekly, "maybe if you were home more, I'd feel it was worth it."
"Just wait a minute," he replied, as the anger crept into his voice. "I tried that for a couple of months. I was home by six and had dinner with you and the kids. They enjoyed my company, but you kept your nose buried in whatever you were reading. There didn't seem much point in being here just to be ignored. I even started taking some Fridays off, but that's when you chose to make a big show of doing housework as if it were some gargantuan, overwhelming task, and I guess it is when you haven't done any for a couple of weeks! But to me, it was just another way for you to ignore my presence."
"I suppose you're right," she conceded dejectedly.
"What's more, when we met with that financial adviser back in January to talk about paying for the kids' college, the bottom line was that my income was too high to qualify for any financial aid even though there really isn't much to spare for tuition and his advice was that you needed to get a job. As far as I know, you haven't sent out one resume, made any application or been on any interviews, and that meeting was almost six months ago!"
"Fine!" she shot back. "I'll start looking on Monday."
"That won't cut it! I've had it! It will just be more of the same old shit. I'm not falling for more of your empty promises. I've put up with those for years, despite all of the discussions we've had."
"What discussions?"
"Jesus! Are you really that clueless?" he growled. "It should seem like I'm whipping a dead horse, but how many times have I tried to talk to you about our sex life..."
"Oh, that again," she said flatly.
"Yeah, well, you're going to hear it again. For at least five years, probably longer, I've talked to you about it and it's always ended the same way. You cry and give me a bunch of 'I'll try's' or 'maybe's' that I have learned really meant no. Frankly, I'm tired of living with a lazy bitch in a sexless marriage."
"It's not sexless!"
"It might as well be. A couple of times a month that always require I give you a massage first and then a quick fuck doesn't cut it. When was the last time you actually initiated something?"
She just stared at him as a tear rolled from the corner of her eye.
"You can't remember," he said coldly, "Can you?"
More silence.
"Well," he said while rising from the swing, "If you've got nothing to say, I'm going for a walk."
Downing the remainder of his drink, George walked back into the kitchen; made a refill and went to the front porch to brood. Sitting in a wicker chair, he stared vacantly at the road beyond the front yard, thinking and muttering to himself in justification of what he'd just told Lyn.
It still tugged at his heart to make her cry, but he'd also had enough sleepless nights and was exhausted by going through life pissed off at the world. No matter where he was, he didn't want to be there and that was ruining the relationships he had with his friends and family. She'd sucked all the joy out of life. Yes, it was time to take a stand, whatever the consequences.
George was still blankly staring into space and unaware of the time passing when Lyn opened and leaned out the screen door to report that dinner was ready.
"I'm not hungry," he replied absently, still lost in thought.
The door closed.
Dusk was falling and his drink long gone before George wandered back into the house. It was quiet, too quiet. The kids were all out.
Well, at least she cleaned up the kitchen. And one more drink; what the hell!
At a complete loss for what to do next, George settled in for some baseball on TV. He didn't pay much attention and never knew the outcome, but at least it broke the silence. He missed the extra innings, and woke with a start at some point during the lat night news. He went upstairs, opting to sleep in the spare bedroom. As he fell back asleep, the only certain thing in his mind was that the next move was up to Lyn. He'd said all there was to say, at least for the time being.
The next morning came too soon and the headache throbbing in George's head was an unwelcome companion. He tried to go back to sleep, but between the pain and his swirling thoughts, it proved impossible. Reluctantly, he got up and went downstairs to the kitchen for a large glass of ice water and a couple of aspirin. Agitation forbid sitting still, so despite it being only six AM, George knew he had to occupy himself somehow or lose his sanity. First and foremost, make coffee.
Lyn was still asleep so he silently retrieved some old shorts, socks and a tee shirt from their bedroom and dressed where he had slept. Back in the kitchen, he quickly grabbed a cup of coffee and exited the kitchen into the adjoining garage, where he put on his work boots.
It was too early to fire up any power equipment, but he was sure that there would be some weeding required somewhere, so taking a couple of tools and a large plastic tub, he went into the yard, searching for victims to his aggravation.
