“I didn’t think they’d make it up with this storm.” He said without looking at me.
“Yeah, me neither.” I agreed.
He looked over at me, “there’s fresh coffee.” He said, then looked back at the window.
“I smelled it from upstairs, it smells wonderful.” I walked into the kitchen and poured myself some coffee.
Steven walked over to the door, and opened it.
“We didn’t think you’d make it!” He yelled out.
The truck door slammed, and I heard Roger’s voice, “we had to leave Janes car down in the village… it got too nasty coming up the mountain!”
“Yeah I bet it did!” My son yelled back, then he saw Jane. “Hi babe, how was it?”
“Ugh… it was long.” She said as she came in and dropped her bag.
I thought to myself ‘the prude.’
I wonder what that even meant. For a brief second, I flashed back to the night before. I felt something creep into my core, then quickly shook it off.
“Hi my dear.” I greeted Jane, then walked over and gave my husband a kiss on the cheek, “and hi my other dear.”
“Hi sweetheart.” He said back, closing the door behind them.
Once inside, we had small talk as I made breakfast.
Steven and Jane broke away and I could hear what sounded like bickering coming from the room. Maybe it was just them attempting to talk quietly.
“How was the drive up the mountain? Did Jane have anything to say?” I asked Roger, who was fixing himself a coffee.
“She was pretty quiet. She said that her class was set up for the break.” He said and paused. “She said Steven has been acting strange.”
“She elaborate?” I asked him.
“I asked. She said she talked to you… I didn’t press.” Roger said, nonchalantly.
“At church a month or so ago, when she called me hysterically…”
“Yeah…” Roger said, remembering the day.
“She suspected him of looking at porn…” I said, sheepishly.
“And…?” Roger threw up his hands, “I’m a religious guy myself, you know that, sweetie… I’d never dream of looking at such things… but, that being said, it happens. All over… men and women… they stray…”
Roger was a very religious man, but he wasn’t a hypocritical religious man. He called things how he saw them.
“So you… that being said, it happens?” I asked him, repeating what he said, “Have you strayed?” I pressed.
He grabbed my hand, “hunny, I’ve never touched another woman… not like that… not since we’ve been together.” He kissed my hand, “but of course I’ve looked…”
I looked him in the eyes, and I quietly asked him, “at pornography?”
“Yes…” he admitted.
I kept asking, “women at church…?”
“Yes…”
My breathing got heavier and I wondered if he had noticed.
“At Jane…?”
His breathing got heavier… maybe he was aroused… “yes…”
I squeezed his hand… maybe it was my way of telling him ‘it’s okay.’
We were sexual, of course we were sexual. But it was more of a planned thing: I’m going to shower, get cleaned. I’ll lay there in bed, let him do me missionary style, lights out, condom on… blah blah blah.
Most of it was my fault. I never really felt sexy or sexual. I certainly wasn’t kinky or taboo… at least not until the last day or so. So, I took blame for the BLAH.
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