Friday, February 22, 2013

Day Four Hundred: The day of capital letters



I had a speech prepared. My history of prepared speeches isn't so great, but I went ahead and wrote one anyway. It made me feel better.

My speech of complete apology turned to mush the moment Libby set eyes on me. 

"What the HELL were you thinking?" she bellowed, dragging me around the back of the pub where no one could see. Naturally, at least a dozen brave souls ran off to the side to watch. "Singing? SINGING?! WHAT'S WITH YOU THIS WEEK?"

I cowered. "I… I… I just… I… wanted to show you…"

"WHAT? THAT YOU'RE AN IDIOT?" She picked me up and shook me about, grabbing at my floppy hat and hurling it onto a nearby rooftop. "I KNEW THAT ALREADY!"

"- that I love you -"

"I KNEW THAT TOO! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD! OR SING IT! YOU MADE US LOOK LIKE ASSES!"

"- but I thought -"

"I QUESTION THAT!"

Libby threw me into a snow bank. To add insult to my slight neck injury, Grayson, who I hadn't noticed was present (though of course he was, he's Libby's freaking shadow), pegged me in the noggin with a snowball. 

Eve never hit me with snowballs. She may have killed me, but not once did she hit me with a snowball.

"Good shot, kid." Libby tousled her son's hair and motioned for him to vamoose before turning back to me. "You've got one chance to explain yourself. ONE. I wanna know WHY you're BUGGING ME SO MUCH."

I straightened, brushed the snow from my clothes, and sneered at her. My love, my attempts to make Libby see how much I cared and therefore redirect some attention back to ME, instantly soured. "Me explain? What IS there to explain? I'm TRYING to be a GOOD HUSBAND! YOU'RE being the dick here, NOT ME!"

"Is being a good husband WASTING THE ENTIRE WEEK WITH IDIOT NONSENSE?" Libby bellowed back. "NO! BEING A GOOD HUSBAND IS DOIN' YOUR DAMNED JOB! BE THE MAYOR!"

"THEY DON'T NEED ME TO BE THE FREAKING MAYOR ANYMORE! I'M USELESS! ALL I DO IS FUCK STUFF UP!"

"YOU DO NOT! YOU'RE IMPORTANT! YOU'RE JUST TOO USELESS TO SEE THAT!"

"SEE? SEE? SEE, EVERYONE? EVEN SHE THINKS I'M USELESS! INSULTS 'N COMPLIMENTS IN ONE SENTENCE!"

The gathering crowd in the background nodded agreement, though they shrank behind a house when Libby glared at them.

"ALL I WANTED TO DO IS SHOW YOU I LOVE YOU, YA DAMNED HARPY! 'N MAKE UP FOR EATIN' DINNER WITH ANOTHER FREAKING WOMAN! THAT'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD A -"

A shiver of fear wrapped around my spine and forced my mouth shut. It had jumped into my body through Libby's cold stare, which grew icy and brittle the moment I mentioned 'another freaking woman'. 

"You what?" she muttered.

"He ate dinner with another freaking woman, mom," Grayson chipped in.

"Quiet." She waved him away. "Explain that, Dragomir."

I suddenly remembered why I usually lie to Libby. She's scary most of the time, but when she's actually MAD, she's, like, scary. Almost Kierkegaard-in-weird-skeletal-form scary.

Well, yeah, not many things are THAT scary. But an angered wife just learning about possible infidelity comes close.

I cowered. All the strength of my argument dripped out my boots and into the snow. "I… I… like… after… after you…"

"After. I. What?" With each word she stepped closer, her voice rising into severe danger zones.

"You… you… I made… dinner… 'n… you…"

"I think I apologized for that," she whispered. The heat of her breath scalded my face.

"Y… yeah… you… but… still… was before… 'n she's… just… a… friend…"

"Uh huh." Her fingers tightened. "Who?"

I bit my lip so hard it drew blood. "E… E… E…van… ge…"

I woke up a few hours later with the words "THE FUCKING PRISONER?" dancing in my head. Somebody had moved me into the pub and put a hot water bottle on my forehead, bless their soul, though it wasn't enough to abate the incredible headache. Or the pain of a chipped tooth.

Libby's kicked me out of her bed. She doesn't want to see me right now. She's also suggested, via Edmund, that if I EVER want to get back in her good graces, I'd best stay away from Evangelina. I'd argue that we've never done anything beyond eating dinner together, but, yeah, I doubt that'll help at all.

I think I'm done trying to show my wife that I love her. It made things so much worse.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Mayor

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