By Micki L. Bailey

Roger looked up. She was home. He felt his heart turn over at the sight of her. Relief and outrage chased each other through his psyche.

“Where’ve ya been, sweetheart? I’ve been turning the city upside down trying to find you.” He tried to address her kindly. He tried not to scream at her about how much she had worried him.

She turned her head to him and glared. No smile. No warmth. “None of your business,” she said slowly.

It struck him hard that she didn’t seem glad to see him. For the first time ever. He had known she’d be angry, but to not see her face light up when she looked at him was a blow.

She kept walking back to the bedroom. She heard him get up and follow her, but she went into the bathroom and closed the door. After she changed into her gown, she emerged from the bathroom and found him sitting up on his side of their bed, against his pillows. She ignored him and sat down on her side. With her back to him.

After a couple of minutes, he spoke. “Honey……what you heard this morning wasn’t what you’re imagining it was.”

She didn’t answer or turn around. The silence was sucking the breath out of him. “That was Brett you heard. You know Brett. She was out there on this assignment too. Remember?”

She whirled around on him then, a fierce storm in her eyes. “Great, Roger. Now I’m well acquainted with who it is you screw on your little trips. Thanks for the info.”

Painful anger dripped off her every word. She had tears in her already swollen eyes.

Roger swallowed. “There’s no screwing going on, baby. That’s what I’m trying to tell ya.”

“She was in bed with you in your room! Are you forgetting that?” Her cheeks were wet now.

“No……..honey…….I’m not. She passed out in my damn room. Ya know how she drinks. And her hotel was across town. So I just let her sleep. I never touched her.”

She still glared at him. Still crying. “I’m supposed to believe that shit? Whadaya take me for? A retard?”

He sighed. “That’s what happened. I’m telling ya the truth. She was out cold. I slept on the other side of the bed. End of story.”

She wiped her face. “Well…….somehow…….I’m not falling for your story, Roger. You’ve broken my heart.”

“Ah, honey, please……..” Roger sounded as if he was grasping for control. For anything. “You know I wouldn’t do that. You know it’s you—”

“Spare me, please……………Look. I’ve had a long, miserable day, and now I just wanna go to sleep. So back off, if ya don’t mind. Leave me the hell alone.” She turned off her lamp and climbed into bed under the covers.

Roger waited for her to be still again before he continued, softly. “Please, baby………I came home early to talk to you. I knew you’d be pissed off and upset. I don’t blame you………..And I’m trying like hell to make things okay again……..I didn’t do it……..Really…..I love you.”

She didn’t turn over to him. She didn’t respond to him in any way. She had erected a steel wall between them, and he felt the coldness coming off it. Her body even felt icy when he touched her arm.

Not giving up, he moved over to her and molded his body against hers, pressing into her. He then put his arm over her and tried to hug her closer to him. Her reaction was that of a corpse. Her silence and frigidity wounded him more. He’d missed her and longed to be in her adoring presence again. Now all of that was fouled up. And it seemed he was unable to correct it. He felt helpless and worthless. Sleep was a welcome abandonment for both of them.

* * *

When she woke up Saturday morning, the memory of Friday’s ordeal flooded over her like the uncontrollable tide. She shut her eyes again, but it didn’t go away. She hurt still. And Roger wasn’t in bed beside her any longer. Oddly enough, she’d taken a small comfort in feeling him against her the night before.

Was he lying about what happened? She thought she might be too emotional right now to judge that. The shock and pain of the mere possibility of it happening was hindering objective thinking. She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

She put on a robe and went into the kitchen for coffee. Roger was cooking breakfast. A peace offering. And she’d always adored seeing him in the kitchen doing domestic things. She did not, however, warm to him yet. She tried to ignore him.

“Hello, sweetheart. Sit down there at the bar, and I’ll get your coffee for ya,” he said.

She sensed that he wanted to touch her, even if in the slightest way. So she moved away from him quickly, not even looking at him.

She sat at the bar as he handed her a full mug. Then she looked up at him and felt her insides liquefy. He was shockingly handsome without even trying to be so. He was showered, shaven, and dressed for Saturday – dark blue sweatshirt with pushed-up sleeves and faded, worn, well-fitting blue jeans.

I always forget how striking and arresting he is, she thought. Until I see him again. A million times I look at him, and a million times he takes my breath away.

“Thanks, Roger,” was all she said. She still wasn’t sure about that story of his.

“Holy shit! She speaks to me!” He touched his heart dramatically. “Are you okay today?”

“I’m the same. Don’t worry about it.” She looked away from him. She didn’t want to smile.

“Ah, but honey, you’re ALL I worry about………….Want some breakfast? I’ve been slaving my ass off over here.” Still a whimsical touch to his voice. He was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Whatever.” It wasn’t working on her.

He put a huge, delicious-looking omelet in front of her. She actually felt like eating it. Then he turned around to retrieve his own coffee mug. As he walked back over to her, he innocently said, “I talked to that bitch Brett. She’s gonna call you and straighten this shit out—”

That was all she needed to hear. Bringing up the other woman’s name so casually set her rage in high gear. With one swift motion, she swept the omelet-filled plate right off the bar, sending it crashing to the floor. As she took her coffee and stood up off the chair, she stared at Roger for one tense, angry moment.

He took a deep breath and let it out audibly, slowly, exhaustively. He was completely frustrated. Quietly, patiently, pleadingly, he said, “How am I ever gonna fix this thing if you won’t even talk to me?”

“Guess you’ll have to call BRETT again and talk to HER!” she screamed at him. Then she turned her back to him and went to the den to sit and drink coffee.

It wounded her already broken spirit to know that he’d called this other female while she was sleeping in the next room. She sat there and tried to calm down as she listened to him clean up the mess she’d made. Then as she stood up and walked back to the bedroom, the phone began ringing.

“Will ya get that, please? Roger yelled at her.

She picked it up in the bedroom. It was Vinnie.

“Hey! How’s it going over there? You two hooked up finally, right?”

“Yeah. For whatever it was worth,” she said, knowing she sounded gloomy.

“Not going so good, huh? What’d he say?”

“He denies screwing her, Vinnie. Totally denies it. Says she passed out drunk in his room, so he let her stay. I’m having trouble swallowing it.”

“He came ova here looking for ya, and he was pretty damn worried. Told us he didn’t do it too.”

“You know him well, Vinnie. Do ya believe him?”

“Yeah……..I do. I couldn’t go for it when ya told me yesterday. I know how he is aboutcha.”

She was stunned. Vinnie, whose judgment she trusted more than anyone’s, didn’t think Roger had cheated on her. Maybe Roger didn’t do it. Maybe there was a flicker of hope left yet. One little dying ember that would revive itself if fanned gently.

After the phone call, she showered and put on some jeans and a sweater. As she was doing her face, Roger came in. She turned to him.

He hesitated for a second, looking her over. “You…..uh……look good.” He smiled.

“Did you need something, Roger?” She tried to extract the bitterness from her voice so that only indifference was left.

“Drew’s here. We’re gonna go and look at a car he wants to buy. And maybe get a drink after that…….I thought you might want me outta your face for a while…….Okay?”

No, I don’t want you to leave at all, she screamed in her mind. I want things to be like they were before you went to Los Angeles. I want you again, all to myself.

“Go on. Knock yourself out.” She turned back to the mirror.

“Well,…….he wants to see you too while he’s here.”

She put down her eye pencil and went out to see Drew. Roger went into the bathroom, leaving them alone.

“Hi, sweetie pie!” He hugged her.

“Hey, Drew. What’s happening?”

“Jesus! You tell me! The vibes around this place today are damn spooky. What the hell’s going on?”

She laughed. Intuitiveness wasn’t a quality she associated with Drew. “Is it that obvious?”

“Obvious? It knocks you down coming up in the elevator! What’s wrong with you two?”

She laughed again. Drew usually made her laugh. “Things aren’t peachy in paradise right now, Drew. It happens.”

He looked concerned. No more jokes. “Anything I can do?”

“Thanks, Drew. I’ll handle it somehow.”

“Well, you know where to find me. Call if you want.”

Roger was coming towards them then. As he and Drew left, Roger grabbed her arm just long enough to kiss her cheek. Before she realized what was happening. “See ya in a little while, baby,” he said. Then he was gone.

She stood there, stunned, still feeling his mouth on her face, his grip on her arm. God, she had missed him touching her. While he had been gone, she’d longed to smell him, to hear him breathing, to feel his skin against hers. I love you, Roger, and I can’t imagine what it will do to me to have to accept that you’ve betrayed me, she thought.

When he came back home, around three o’clock, she was stretched out on the leather sofa reading a book. He was carrying a huge array of beautiful white roses in an elegant crystal vase. He set them down on the coffee table in front of her. She smiled, but didn’t move.

He must have accepted that smile as a good sign. He then came over to her, lifted up her legs, and sat down under them, laying them across his lap. He rubbed her thighs through her jeans. She watched him complacently. He accepted this as a good sign too.

“I know how ya like the white ones.” He smiled at her.

“They’re gorgeous, Roger. How many are there?”

“Thirteen. It’s usually lucky for me, ya know………And I need some luck right now.”

She smiled back at him and changed the subject. “Did you boys have fun?”

“Drew said to tell ya to behave,” he said.

“Drew’s the fuckup, not me.”

He laughed nervously. “He knows the guy who owns Pricci, that upscale Italian joint on the north side. He said he’d call the guy and get us a special, secluded table tonight……..Will ya go with me……..Please?” He begged her with his eyes.

After a pause, she said, “Yeah. I’ll go. I’m starving.”

“Thank the gods.” He sighed and looked up for a second. “We’ll leave about seven.” He patted her thighs and then got up, afraid to press his newly acquired luck.

“I’ll be downstairs ‘til then.” And he left.

He stayed downstairs all afternoon, like he said. She read her book and thought about things. Around six o’clock, she changed into a nice dress and re-applied her makeup. As she was finishing up, Roger came upstairs and changed into a suit.

She sipped a glass of wine at the bar while she waited for him and wondered what this evening had in store for her. She’d felt some of her initial anger subsiding, and a willingness to discuss things with him was replacing it. She wanted to talk to him rationally, to watch his face. She wanted this to be over.

As they went down the elevator, he said to her, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Roger. You cleaned up pretty good yourself.” She’d already been admiring him in his dress clothes. He looked good in everything.

When the elevator stopped underground and its doors opened, the first thing she saw was a shiny, black limousine. As she stepped out of the elevator, the driver got out and opened the back door.

Shocked, she looked at Roger. He arched his eyebrows slightly and smiled for a second. “Get in, princess.”

Inside, with the door closed, she turned to Roger again. “What’s this for?”

“I want ya to feel special. And besides……I don’t feel like driving, and we gotta get there somehow.” He laughed.

“This wasn’t necessary, Roger.”

“Yes, it was. It’s got ya talking to me. That’s a big step.” He put his hand on her leg, and she didn’t mind.

“Was this Drew’s idea too?”

“I reserve the right to not answer that,” he said.

They didn’t talk anymore before they arrived at the restaurant. She took his hand as he helped her out of the limo, and didn’t let go of it until they walked inside Pricci. The table that had been reserved just for them was exquisite, in its own private little room with white canopy sheers around it.

Roger ordered the five-course food and wine menu for both of them, and conversation was safe small talk until dessert. Then she sensed he had something on his mind. She was ready to listen.

He looked across the little table at her very seriously. “I know what you heard yesterday morning hurt you. And I’m not denying what you heard. But the circumstances that led up to your phone call are not what you think.”

“If things had been reversed, Roger, if you had heard some man in bed with me, what would you have thought? How would you have reacted?”

“Believe me, honey. I’ve thought about that angle. I would have killed him. And I’d be pissed at you too,” he said.

“Would you have believed my lame-ass story about passing out drunk and nothing happened?”

He sighed. She’d heard that sigh a lot lately. “It’s the truth, baby. I know it sounds lame. But you gotta believe me. I didn’t fuck her. And if you’d just let me touch you, you’d know that.”

She blushed ‘cause she wanted him to touch her. “I wanna believe you, Roger. I wanna think you’re still faithful to me. I don’t wanna share you.” She thought she might cry again and didn’t want to.

“You’re not sharing me, sweetheart. And I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you of that……This thing is driving me crazy.” Roger laid his arm across the table and held out his hand to her. She took it.

The waiter was there then with the check. He put it on the table and left again. Roger stood up, still holding her hand, and pulled her up to him. Finally, magically, electrically, they embraced, squeezing their arms tightly around each other’s submissive body.

She felt, rather than heard, him sigh this time. She breathed him in as she laid her head on his shoulder. He just held her next to him, as close as he could. Both of them could feel the other’s fast- beating heart.

They hardly spoke in the limo going home. Neither knew exactly what to say. He wasn’t sure if he’d lost her or not. She wasn’t sure if she totally believed him yet.

In their bed later, before he tried to touch her, Roger said to her, “I want you to trust me again. Like you used to. And I’ll wait for that as long as it takes.”

She let him take her in his arms and make love to her, fervently and affectionately. She returned all of his passion with her own built-up energy. They both forgot about everything else in the world. Except each other and each other’s pleasure.

When it was over and they were sharing their body perspiration, she whispered to him, “Okay……..I’m almost convinced. That was incredible.”

Roger sat up and leaned over her, sweating on her. “It’s only half-time, baby. Give me another chance.”

By morning, she was feeling better. Physically sore, but much more at ease in her mind. And her husband continued to do everything he could think of to restore his stature in her adoration.

She finally even accepted a visit from Brett, who apologized profusely and seem more than a little embarrassed.

So a house once divided against itself was on its way to a sturdy foundation once again.