where you come up with your ideas, but itâs so nice to be surprised. Redoing the yard is a great idea. Youâre so good to me,â she said and then immediately regretted it. Both knew it was untrue.
In the darkness, he searched for something to say.
âI know I have been difficult, Nancyâthese past years. I know that.â That was true, and for a moment her heart felt it would collapse with relief. From those words, a forceful physical drive emerged. She snuggled up against him and began to kiss the side of his neck. She felt she could coil herself around him until she could elicit some kind of response. Maybe tonight he would give himself over. She would settle for pleasuring him, for anything.
âNancy, come on, you know Iâm not up for that.â He curled up tighter into his fetal position, hardening into a ball. Were his eyes open or closed? She didnât know. She retracted her arm and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. The physicality still tingled at the bottom of her belly, but as the minutes ticked by, it dissipated.
There was something about the way Michael slept that unnerved Nancy. He was stiff as a board and silent the whole night through. Because of his insomnia, she was never sure if he was actually asleep.He usually faced away from her, and when she woke up, she would move very slowly and deliberately so as not to disturb him, in case he was just lying there awake, waiting for sleep to take him.
On nights like this, she missed her former boyfriend, Tim, who, as awkward and wayward as he was, had slept deeply and snored loudly. Back then his snoring had irritated her. But now she longed for itâthe reassurance that he was released into the dream world, no longer her responsibility. She could toss and turn, sigh, mutter, and he would sleep through, surrendered, dead to her in a way that she liked, becoming a body with no brain attached. But her husband was like a brittle insect, motionless, silent, tightly wound up, operating on some vague plane between the current moment and a labyrinth in his mind. He was both available and entirely unavailable. His brooding, ever-turning mind frightened her. She could handle his strange mind while awake, but when he tried to sleep, an ominous being seemed to sneak out of his body and into the room, and it sat in the corner watching her. She didnât know what it looked like, that dark mass, but whatever it was, she knew it was sneering at her.
Maybe the landscaping was a sign that things were changing for the better and she should just be patient. That was always the answer. As time went on, he would step back into his role as head of the house and discipline Ryan. She also had faith that, if something changed, Michael would want her again. He might approach her between the sheets, his face relaxed and his mood lighthearted, with a playfulness that rarely came out. The other housewives she knew fantasized about strangers, young studs they invented to spice up routine sex. She fantasized about her husband ablaze with real desire, years into their marriage.
CHAPTER SIX
When Ryan arrived at Jillâs house on that early June evening, Jill had not changed out of her work clothes. For almost two years, Jill had been working at a plant nursery. She took care of the register, but when business was slow, she moved plants and big bags of fertilizer. She often came home with dirt smeared on her oversized T-shirt, faintly sweaty and musty, yet smiling nonetheless. She had dirt on the backs of her legs, and, as usual, her yellow T-shirt was damp with perspiration.
She and Ryan began baking a pie in the kitchen, soft jazz music playing in the background. Jillâs parents had brought her up in this house, and they had both died before Carol turned ten. After that, Jill became the new owner and permanent resident. She managed to get by largely due to the fact that she had been left the house with no mortgage to pay off.
The house,
In the darkness, he searched for something to say.
âI know I have been difficult, Nancyâthese past years. I know that.â That was true, and for a moment her heart felt it would collapse with relief. From those words, a forceful physical drive emerged. She snuggled up against him and began to kiss the side of his neck. She felt she could coil herself around him until she could elicit some kind of response. Maybe tonight he would give himself over. She would settle for pleasuring him, for anything.
âNancy, come on, you know Iâm not up for that.â He curled up tighter into his fetal position, hardening into a ball. Were his eyes open or closed? She didnât know. She retracted her arm and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. The physicality still tingled at the bottom of her belly, but as the minutes ticked by, it dissipated.
There was something about the way Michael slept that unnerved Nancy. He was stiff as a board and silent the whole night through. Because of his insomnia, she was never sure if he was actually asleep.He usually faced away from her, and when she woke up, she would move very slowly and deliberately so as not to disturb him, in case he was just lying there awake, waiting for sleep to take him.
On nights like this, she missed her former boyfriend, Tim, who, as awkward and wayward as he was, had slept deeply and snored loudly. Back then his snoring had irritated her. But now she longed for itâthe reassurance that he was released into the dream world, no longer her responsibility. She could toss and turn, sigh, mutter, and he would sleep through, surrendered, dead to her in a way that she liked, becoming a body with no brain attached. But her husband was like a brittle insect, motionless, silent, tightly wound up, operating on some vague plane between the current moment and a labyrinth in his mind. He was both available and entirely unavailable. His brooding, ever-turning mind frightened her. She could handle his strange mind while awake, but when he tried to sleep, an ominous being seemed to sneak out of his body and into the room, and it sat in the corner watching her. She didnât know what it looked like, that dark mass, but whatever it was, she knew it was sneering at her.
Maybe the landscaping was a sign that things were changing for the better and she should just be patient. That was always the answer. As time went on, he would step back into his role as head of the house and discipline Ryan. She also had faith that, if something changed, Michael would want her again. He might approach her between the sheets, his face relaxed and his mood lighthearted, with a playfulness that rarely came out. The other housewives she knew fantasized about strangers, young studs they invented to spice up routine sex. She fantasized about her husband ablaze with real desire, years into their marriage.
CHAPTER SIX
When Ryan arrived at Jillâs house on that early June evening, Jill had not changed out of her work clothes. For almost two years, Jill had been working at a plant nursery. She took care of the register, but when business was slow, she moved plants and big bags of fertilizer. She often came home with dirt smeared on her oversized T-shirt, faintly sweaty and musty, yet smiling nonetheless. She had dirt on the backs of her legs, and, as usual, her yellow T-shirt was damp with perspiration.
She and Ryan began baking a pie in the kitchen, soft jazz music playing in the background. Jillâs parents had brought her up in this house, and they had both died before Carol turned ten. After that, Jill became the new owner and permanent resident. She managed to get by largely due to the fact that she had been left the house with no mortgage to pay off.
The house,
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