(Pardon My French but) Shit Happens
by Nelson
It started out just an ordinary day; an ordinary day like any other. There were no warnings, not the first single solitary indication that it would end up like it did. Life should come with danger signs. SOMETHING to tell a guy to stay in bed, cover his head, and don't come out for any reason. But did I get any warnings? Noooo.
I cracked an eye open when I heard the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom, and my mouth stretched open in a yawn while my arms and legs reached out as far as they would go. I felt a little stirring by my leg and saw a wirehaired white head pop up and gaze at me with sleepy brown eyes.
"You didn't get up with Nelson, Cujo?" I asked with a gravely sleep-filled voice.
He bounded toward my face and I fended off The Tongue as best I could. That damn dog has more spit than any being I know. I think he's got hypospitamous. It's a disorder. And he thinks I want all his spit on me. Let me just say, "Ew." I pushed him away all the while he was throwing his full weight of 12 pounds against my hold. I was no match for him. The Tongue darted toward me, the long pink spit monster, persistent and unyielding, reaching out with every intention of swiping itself across my stubbled face.
"Quit it, Cujo," I admonished as I swung out of bed. Being taller than his 16 inches was the only defense I had to keep from getting dog lick on my face first thing in the morning.
My bladder bulged like the Hindenburg and I strode into the bathroom to greet my Norse god lover, and to pee.
"Morning, Nelson," I said, lifting my voice over the running shower.
I couldn't help but grin when I heard the thump of the soap as it nailed the shower floor followed by a muttered grunt of irritation out of Nelson.
"Morning, sweetheart," he sang to me, despite losing the battle with the soap.
I used the facilities while he continued to shower then I tossed a warning his way, "I'm flushing!"
His response froze my hand to the flusher thingy. "Wait! I'm almost done."
I shrugged and washed my face and hands instead. With a towel to my face, I heard the water stop running in the shower.
"Ok, now flush," he told me through the curtain.
I complied and complained. "Now, I have to wash my hands again."
"I didn't feel like getting scalded this morning," he said as he pulled the curtain aside.
His blond hair was swept back away from his face, and the scent of man-smelling soap wafted out of the shower. Heavy droplets of water glistened over his clean skin, waking my cock as I looked him up and down.
"Want me to dry you off?" I asked, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth seductively.
"No," he replied, dashing my rousing dick and desire with water colder than what was in the toilet.
I crossed my arms and gave him the most sour look I could muster at 7:00 AM. "Why not?" I demanded to know.
"I'll never get to work on time if I let you dry me off," he grinned.
Now that was a fine how do you do.
He looped the damp towel around my neck and held tight to each end, using it as a makeshift lasso to pull me to him. He leaned all of his 6'2" self down and kissed me hard on my pouting lips, his tongue slipping between my teeth. I did my best to stand firm, unwilling to give in to his ministrations so easily. But I'm a weak man. My own tongue tasted his and I wrapped my arms around his damp waist, gripping his butt cheeks. I wasn't the least bit concerned with whether I got wet or not. What can I say? I'm easy. Sue me.
"Morning," he said again when I let him have his tongue back.
"Morning. Did you sleep well?"
"I did. Did you?"
"Yeah."
He took the towel back and rubbed his skin down, removing what water remained on him.
"Don't forget to re-wash your hands," he ordered, giving me another quick peck and a grin as he left the bathroom.
Norse gods are bossy, in case you didn't know that. I watched the twin globes of his ass shifting with each step as he walked away before I washed my hands as I was told then I followed him to the bedroom, and sat on the bed to watch him dress. He was buttoning his light blue dress shirt but was still in his boxer briefs. That was a hotter look than dress slacks. His muscular thighs bulged against the hem of the briefs, just showing beneath the tail of his shirt, and his hair hung damply over his brow, the tips of his bangs flicking with each blink of his eyes. Damn, if he wasn't sexy. Or maybe I was just horny. Or maybe it was a little of both. Hmm.
He stroked his fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes, and smiled warmly at me as he turned back to the closet, emerging with a pair of dark navy slacks.
"Wear the blue tie with yellow diamonds on it," I instructed from the bed. I barely noticed Cujo jumping on the bed beside me until he nudged my palm for a rub.
"You think?" he asked uncertainly.
He should know by now my taste in clothes far surpasses anything he can ever hope to come up with.
"Yes, Nelson," I told him calmly. "The light blue one."
"But I'm wearing a light blue shirt," he offered curiously.
"The blues don't clash and they go together nicely. Trust me."
He slipped the slacks on and I tried to think of anything other than sex while I watched him tuck his shirt tail in. There's something extraordinarily sexy about a hot man shoving the tail of his shirt into his pants, in my opinion. I don't know what it is, but it does something for me.
"What do you have on the agenda today?" he asked me, snaking his belt through the loops.
"Not a whole lot. One client is coming in today. It might be easy or the day from hell. Time will tell."
"Why?" he asked as he flipped through the ties on the rack. "Where's my blue tie?"
What would he do without me? I huffed at him and joined him in the closet, putting my hand right on the tie and retrieving it from the tie rack for him.
"Because my photoshoot is with a three-year-old. Here."
"Oh," he replied taking the tie. I wasn't sure if he was "oh"ing the fact that I had a three-year-old client or that I'd so easily found the tie.
I explained the possible problem. "Toddlers are fine if they're in the mood to sit still and smile."
"I can imagine." He twisted the tie into an appropriate knot and smoothed his collar back into place before checking his hair in the mirror.
"You look great," I admired him. I pushed close against him and straightened the tie. "Come home early?"
He linked his hands together at the small of my back and pulled our hips together. "Promise," he answered sincerely and then sealed it with a kiss.
I was going to have to stay busy, no doubt about it. Me and my dick needed to have other things on our minds. I could have jumped him right then and there if he had let me.
"You're sure you don't have time?" I asked, intentionally rocking my hips against him.
He laughed. Not very nice when you're trying to seduce someone, by the way. I frowned at him again to show my displeasure.
"Yes, I'm sure I don't have time. I'm disappointed, but I have just enough time to scarf down a bowl of cereal. Not enough to scarf down you."
I gave him a really loud huffed out sigh. "Fine. Be that way."
He laughed again. At what I wasn't sure, but I was pretty sure it was at my expense.
"Come on and eat breakfast with me. What time does your toddler come?"
"Ten."
I took his hand and we walked together downstairs, Cujo beating a trail ahead of us. We entered the kitchen and I groaned when I realized Nelson noticed the same annoying sound I did. The gurgling aquarium.
"Don't forget to put water in that today."
"How could I forget? You nagged me about it to death last night."
"Yeah, well, I nagged you about it the day before, too and that didn't work. I'm done nagging about it," he added menacingly with an eyebrow quirked at me for emphasis.
"Good," I answered. "I'm tired of hearing it."
The eyebrow traveled up another inch or three at that. "I mean it."
I got the message, with or without that eyebrow or the promise of sincerity. When Nelson stopped talking (a.k.a. nagging) it usually spelled trouble for me, so the nagging was actually the better alternative in reality.
"I know," I answered with a roll of my eyes. "You said last night."
"I mean it, Zach." I heard him the first time, but he repeated it anyway. "I'm not telling you again. You're the one who wanted the fish tank, you take care of it. You should have taken care of it without me telling you."
"I *know*."
I didn't need him to constantly remind me that it was my responsibility, especially when it needed vacuuming and a water add. The aquarium seemed like a really good idea most days. Just not when it needed to be maintained. There is NO way to make that not a chore.
I sat a box of bran flakes on the table while Nelson got out the milk.
"Blueberries?" he asked from the fridge.
"Yeah."
I made the coffee while he set the table. Meanwhile, I tried to shake the crappy idea of having to drag the damn fish tank vacuum-slash-hose thingy out and deal with all 25 feet of it. I got the long one on purpose – and it, too, seemed like a good idea at the time – so it would reach easily from the sink but I swear it was such a pain! And a mess! Have you ever tried to curl up a plastic hose full of water without it all spilling out in the floor? Not easy, let me tell you. It was like putting ice in the glasses. Some always ended up on the floor. I never worked on the fish tank without getting water everywhere and my sleeve wet.
I was usually appreciative of the aquarium. It was a really nice set, a "33 gallon high" they called it that sat atop a shiny black stand where I could hide all the fish crap underneath. It was taller than it was wide, making it look a lot bigger than its 33 gallons and also made it more difficult for me to reach inside to vacuum with my 5'7" frame. I breathed out two full lungs of air as I poured my cereal.
"What's wrong?" Nelson asked.
"Nothing."
He read my mind. "It's your aquarium," he reminded me.
Like I needed to hear that again!
"I *know* whose it is, Nelson. Doesn't mean I like dealing with the vacuuming and adding water. There must be an easier way."
"How hard is it?" he asked, crunching his spoon into his cereal. "You hook the hose to the sink and turn on the water. Get *down*, Cujo!"
Cujo jumped from the seat of the chair next to Nelson immediately at the invocation of the tone. I didn't blame him. I jump whenever I get the tone directed at me, too.
"You scared him," I accused.
"I don't care if I did. He's up there every time a chair is six inches away from the table where he can wedge in there." Just to be sure it didn't happen again, Nelson used his toe to pull the chair all the way against the table edge. "I'm getting newspaper to him if he doesn't quit it."
I was appalled! What the hell was he thinking??
"Nelson!"
"I would never hurt him, Zach, you know that. It's the noise of the newspaper that makes it effective, and it will hopefully teach him he can't get up there."
"You're so mean."
"I’m not mean," he disagreed. "So how hard is it?"
I didn't think it was hard at all for him to be mean. Did he not see that?
"What?" I asked befuddled.
"The fish tank. How hard is it to do all that stuff?"
"Oh. It's not hard. It's just a pain. I have to take the filter thing off the spigot then *hook* up the adapter thing to the spigot, then *haul* the hose to the tank, then *hang* over in the tank to vacuum, then *haul* it back out without dribbling water everywhere," I droned on showing him just how much work the damn thing turned out to be.
"You wanted it."
Damn it! I was there when we bought it. I *know* who wanted it!
"I *know*, Nelson," I grumbled at him. "Do you honestly think you have to keep reminding me of that? My memory is just fine, but my nerves are getting a little chewed on."
He laughed again. "I'm sorry, but you *were* the one who wanted it. And I told you at the time –"
"—that if I wanted it, I had to take care of it. I was there for that part, too."
"If you don't want it anymore, take it down and we'll try to sell it or give it to Goodwill."
Well, I didn't want to go that far. I only had to deal with the pain in the ass stuff about every six weeks. The other five were fine.
"I don't hate it that bad," I told him, digging my spoon into the bran flakes.
"You should work on it early and get it over with if you hate it so much."
Norse gods are so damn logical. I wasn't feeling like hearing logic and I was sick of thinking about the fish tank, so I changed the subject.
"What do you have to do today?"
He took the bait. "The usual," he said. "Nothing other than see patients."
Thrilling. But more exciting than trying to get a toddler to smile and deal with fish poo.
We finished our breakfast through the usual small talk and I saw my lover off to work, brown bag lunch in hand. He bent down to kiss me goodbye and then with a tip of my face upward, he looked me square in the eyes.
Aw hell. This was serious. I hate it when he's serious! He had something to say that he wanted me to hear, and I was doubting it was going to be an "I love you, Zach". He had that look in his eye that I had seen once or twice before.
"Go take care of that fish tank early. Don't put it off or you're going to run out of day again. And if you don't do it today, we're going to have a talk about it when I get home."
A capital "t" talk, no doubt. Damn. I seriously didn't want to have a capital "t" talk; I never did.
"God, would you go already?" I said, trying to lighten the tone and the mood. "I'm going to do it."
He looked unconvinced and his eyebrow traveled upward again. That thing needed to stay the hell put.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," I swore, tracing an "x" over the left uppermost part of my chest. "Stick a finger in my eye, yada yada."
His face softened and he kissed me again. "All right. It's your choice."
Great. He dropped the capital "t" talk option square in my lap. My choice to capital "t" talk or not. Fine. "I'll *do* it, already," I said irritably.
"I hope so. I love you," he said with equal determination as he used when he threatened me.
It made me stir again. "Hurry home tonight," I ordered.
"I'll sincerely try," he promised with a twinkle in his eye.
With that, I was left in the house alone with Cujo and the damn fish. I went back to the kitchen and there was Cujo, sitting in Nelson's chair and licking the bottom of his cereal bowl. Nelson would have had a coronary.
"Cujo!" I admonished. "Get down from there. Didn't you hear what he said? Are you *wanting* to get swatted with newspaper?"
Speaking of newspaper, I gathered up ours from the bar and trashed it just in case Nelson got any wild hairs about using it, then I sat Cujo down on the floor and pushed both our chairs in.
I took our bowls to the sink and cautioned Cujo, "Trust me, you don't want him swatting you. I don't care what he says about newspaper not hurting."
Cujo's tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as he stared at me, looking just like he could understand every word, but obviously not the least bit concerned about newspaper. I could see clearly that I was going to have to stay one step ahead of Nelson and stop the newspaper delivery. Cujo hadn't learned to take Nelson's threats seriously like I had over the years, and I didn't want him learning the hard way.
I finished clearing the table then turned to the aquarium before Nelson called down the hounds of hell (who have never seen the likes of a newspaper thrashing, by the way) on me for putting it off. Nelson was right. Doing it early would get it over with and out of the way. I was going to do it. Just do it and get it over with. The decision was hereby made!
I stood in front of the aquarium resting my palms on my knees so I could see the fish better.
"You guys want some more water and clean gravel?" I asked them as I searched for them around the ornamental stuff and plants.
I only had an algae eater and two Bleeding Heart Tetras left from the seven fish I started with. Many a fish had given his life to train me in the ways of aquarium maintenance. Lesson One: Don't Start with Seven Fish. Lesson Two: What to Do When Fish Die (a.k.a. What Happens When you Start with Seven Fish).
In a 33 gallon tank, I could conceivably have about 15 fish but only three survived. The algae eater - or sucky fish as I called him - stayed hidden so I rarely saw him when the light was on. He was doing a pretty good job of keeping the algae eaten though. The two Tetras hid behind a plant I had in there and I rarely saw them either. The whole of them could fit in a Mason jar – one that would be easier to clean and maintain than a 33 gallon high, I might add.
"Nelson was right. I should flush all 3 of you and sell the tank on eBay," I grumbled to them. "You don't even come out to eat!"
I looked in from the side so I could see the hiding tetras and noticed one was missing most of his fins. The other one must have had some Jaws in him and helped himself to cannibalizing his tank mate. Fish. Who could understand them? The finless wonder had one good side-fin that flapped quickly in the water.
"I should call you Nemo," I joked at the poor handicapped creature's expense.
I opened the door of the black cabinet and pulled out the carefully coiled 25-foot hose with disdain.
"I do *not* feel like doing this right now," I grumbled to the stupid fish.
Despite what I had decided not five minutes earlier, I tossed the hose on the kitchen counter, determining I would do it later. Not later to the point I missed Nelson's deadline, but later to not have to fool with it right then. God knew what Nelson had planned for me if I didn't do it again. Maybe he would turn me to fish bait and feed me to the cannibal.
I decided instead to shower and work on my books for my new business. That needed to be done, too, of course. I only had a couple of hours before my appointment and I could get the studio ready while I waited.
Freshly showered and shaved, I threw on some khakis and my emerald green Ralph Lauren pullover to work in. Cujo was scratching at the kitchen door when I got downstairs so I went to let him outside. The damn gurgling fish tank was yelling at me as soon as I got in the room.
"Not yet," I told Nemo and friends. If one more fish died, it would be Nemo and friend, singular. Unless of course, the dead fish happened to be Nemo.
I glanced at the clock and saw I had plenty of time to work on the fish tank. Nelson's words echoed in my mind, "Do it early… do it early… do it early."
"Be quiet, Nelson," I told his nagging mind-voice.
That was my first mistake of the day. Such a simple thing, really, putting off vacuuming and filling the fish tank. A chore that might have cost me 15 minutes, ended up costing me a lot more. But that's later in the story. For now, I decided to ignore it. Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? Isn't that the saying? Wait, that doesn't sound right. Anyway, I decided it could wait until after my appointment. I could work on it after I was done with my photo shoot, and then have some lunch afterward. That was my grand plan for the morning.
I used the time I had left to gather some props, choosing my favorite set for toddlers. It was a pair of angel wings that fit on a seat that made it look like the wings were attached to the kidlet. Then I had this little muslin piece of material I wrapped around their diaper or underoos, whichever the case may be, to add to the cherub look. Top it all off with a little harp, and voila! Angel in the making. It looked great with the cloud background and shot in sepia tones instead of color.
I looked at my watch and saw that getting my stuff together had taken no longer than the fish tank would have. I still had plenty of time, time enough to deal with the fish tank, but I was empty of the sheer will it took to go fool with the fish. I decided instead to sit at the computer and check my email.
I had mostly junk mail and after moving that to the spam folder, I immersed myself in the new Luxor 2, where rolling colored balls pushed along by fattened bugs in some of the best graphics ever seen kept me captivated for an hour or more. It was only when the toddler showed up that I pulled myself away, hearing the ringing bell at the basement door.
An attractive blonde woman was on the back stoop with a little kidlet in tow with equally blond hair. I had a sneaking suspicion his was natural and hers was from a bottle, but a pricey bottle. Judging from her genuine Coach bag, two carat solitaire and designer St. John's jeans, money was not a worry. This could end up being a great sale if the toddler decided to be cooperative.
It wasn't looking optimistic. The toddler was twisting his captured hand this way and that trying to get out of his mother's grip.
"Good morning," I said pleasantly.
"Hi. I'm Gina and this is Devin."
I knelt down to get eye-level with the little guy and said, "Hi, Devin. I'm Zach. Are you ready to get your picture taken?"
The little beast stopped squirming long enough to look at me, and he turned his red demon eyes to me, and fixed me with an evil glare. I almost flinched. It was then that I realized I had just met the devil's spawn. Did she say his name was Devin or Devil? So close, yet so different. I never had any idea Satan was married to a blonde.
This was going to be a long session.
Devil finally decided to speak and he screamed out a definitive, "NO!", which he followed with an equally decisive kick to my shin.
Dear, God, I saw stars. I bit down on a nasty expletive and backed away from The Beast, thankful that there were no stairwells he could toss me into, and that I hadn't chosen to use the tricycle in my props.
"Devin!" Gina scolded. She shook a finger in his face. "That was not very nice."
Devil looked neither repentant nor apologetic even after that severe tongue lashing.
Gina turned to me with a kids-will-be-kids look on her face. "I'm sorry," she said with a small chuckle and a shrug.
That was it?! I was assaulted! Battered by this little monster and he got a shaken finger? Yes, this was going to be a long session. A very long session and I was praying for protection.
I drew the sign of the cross over my chest and smiled. "You want to get started?"
"Yes, I've been so excited. We haven't had any pictures made of Devin for a long time. Sears was the last place, I think it was. Or was it Wal-Mart?" she babbled, following me to the studio.
Hmm. Maybe money *was* an object.
"We should get some good shots," I lied smoothly with an optimism I didn't feel.
"Lemme go! Lemme go!" the demon spawn bleated at his mother.
I tried to tune him out and think happy thoughts then stopped dead as I reached my selected props. An angel. God. What was I thinking! I was having second thoughts about the angel thing and was thinking about taking my chances with the tricycle. We were in the basement, after all.
"Oh!" Gina squealed, releasing her prey as she reached for the harp and wings with both hands. "How adorable is that!"
"Um… I wasn't sure if you'd like something like that," I said while trying to keep an eye on the kid. "No, Devi-" I bit off the "l" just in time to mutter over the "n" and get his name right. "That's my camera."
"Leave it alone, honey," Gina said, her attention purely on the wings and not the cherub. "How do these fit on him?"
"They don't. They go on the seat over there and this goes around his diaper."
"How *cute*!" she nearly sang. "I can't wait to see him in this!"
I somehow managed to keep my eyes from rolling back in their sockets and plastered on a smile. "Just take his clothes off and leave his diaper on."
She chased him down and got him ready then perched him on the seat, which he promptly got off of. Did I mention what a long day it was going to be?
And I was right to see the future so bleak. Two hours of a screaming, kicking, fire-breathing Devil, I was ready to throw in the towel. We just weren't getting anywhere.
"I don't think this is going to work," I told the devil's mom.
For one thing, I didn't have a backdrop of hellfire and brimstone. For another, my head was about to split clean open from hearing that little urchin squeal. I couldn't understand half what he said, but I got the meaning. He had a pitch that could break glass, and I wasn't getting paid enough to replace the windows. I was ready to throttle the kid myself after all that work and so little payoff. I think I might have gotten five whole decent shots out of a zillion attempts. Thank God for digital.
"He's just not in the mood today," I added and tried to do it apologetically, even though I wasn't the one who should have been apologizing.
And more to the point, I wasn't in the mood anymore. I was dripping sweat from fighting with the kid. Every time I moved him one way, he'd be in another position before I could get the picture taken. I must have walked a mile between him and my camera.
As soon as Devil heard me throw in the towel, he was happy. Like flipping a switch.
"Home, Mama. I wanna go home," he grinned, his fangs dripping honey instead of the venom he had spat at me all morning.
Devil promptly jumped down and started tearing around my studio again, his muslin diaper wrap coming loose enough to trail behind him.
His mother sighed and said, "Devin, I swear, just once it would be nice to get your picture taken without a scene. Come back here."
"Did you have this much trouble at Sears?" I asked innocently, knowing full well she had.
"Oh, he was worse at Sears," she said with a smile as she scooped him up, "but the pictures are so cheap, it was worth it."
My heart went out to the poor Sears photographer. "Did any of the pictures turn out?"
"We got a few. Maybe three," she answered as she tried to remember. ''Could you try just a little longer?"
I opened my mouth to say no, but then Devil grinned at me and stuck a finger in his mouth. His big blue eyes batted at me and I wondered how such a cherubic face could have been such a horror for the last two hours. He grinned at me around his little fat finger and I went soft.
"I guess we can try a few more shots."
That was my second mistake of the day.
Did you know devils can impersonate angels? Well, they can. But there's one way to get them to drop the charade. It can be done quickly and it never fails.
Try to take its picture.
Another half hour of fighting landed us with about five possibilities. I was so done.
"Those are much better than Sears," Gina beamed as she stared at the computer screen. "So many good shots!"
I glared at the computer screen and tried to see what she was seeing. I looked at frame after frame of a pissed off kid in angel garb. Ange ou demon?
"I'm getting the biggest package you have," she smiled, grabbing for her wallet. "How much do I owe you today?"
Does a million dollars sound ok? God help me.
I managed not to ask the million dollar question – literally – and I gave her a price sheet instead. I collected the extremely cheap sitting fee, considering the hell I had been through, and half the package cost. I started to charge double. At least. It occurred to me that what I should do is charge by the hour. I knew some photographers who did that and right then I knew why. Live and learn.
I waved pleasantly as the spawn of hell left my studio. I fell against the door after I closed it, drained and in no mood to do anything else. I needed down time. Serious down time. First I needed some lunch.
I dragged my tired ass upstairs and went to the kitchen, trying to shake the horrible photo session. You know the best way to forget about horrible photo shoots?
Get distracted by a gurgling fish tank.
ARGH! That was the absolute last thing I wanted to deal with after all that haranguing with the devil. I was going to have to tackle it after I ate because half a day was gone. I was hungry, tired, and approaching a foul mood.
The immediacy was food, because I was starving, my bowl of cereal long ago forgotten. I ate some lunch and then bit the bullet on the stupid aquarium. I fought the hose, the filter on the spigot, the adapter thing, and started working on the vacuuming. The fish swam away from the nozzle as I chunked through the gravel, sucking up fish poo and uneaten food. Ew.
Thankfully, I was finished in just a few minutes, probably no more than five or ten. I actually had spent more energy finding ways to put it off than it actually took to do it. I switched the adapter thing from suck to fill so I could finish up, and air bubbles sputtered into the tank as the water flow filled the hose. The phone rang while I was fixing a fresh glass of tea and I answered it while the tank filled.
"Hi," Nelson's voice came to me over the line.
"Hi. You'll be happy to know I'm finishing up the stupid fish tank as we speak."
"Congratulations. I'm impressed. What happened to doing it early?"
Jeez.
"It's getting done, Nelson. You said have it done before you come home and it's getting done."
"I also said to do it early."
"You said 'should'. *Should* do it early. That's not the same. Anyway, it's getting done, and aren't you supposed to stop nagging me about it now?"
He chuckled over the phone. "All right, Zach. I'll quit nagging."
"Thank you," I said emphatically.
"I just called because I forgot to take the steaks out of the freezer. Would you take them out to thaw?
"Sure."
My first thought was "don't forget" then "note to self", but I quickly decided a smart person would take them out while he was in the kitchen and actually thinking about it, rather than worry about trying to remember later. I took our dinner out of the freezer while I was still on the phone and tossed the steaks on the kitchen table before pulling a chair out to sit down.
"How was your session this morning?"
"Oh, brother. It was horrible. Too horrible to even go into right now. The wounds are still fresh. I'm battered, bruised and bleeding. I need a doctor," I told him sincerely, as I sat down at the table.
"I'm up for the job if you need me."
"I always need you. I promise to tell you all about it when you get home."
"He wasn't in the mood to smile, I take it?" he asked me intuitively.
"Hardly."
"I'm sorry, Zach. I hope you have a better afternoon."
It couldn't be better enough to wipe out the hideous morning. Unless… "Are you coming home early?"
"You know, I think I'll surprise you."
"Maybe I'll surprise *you* by meeting you at the door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap," I teased.
"Sounds good to me. I'll bring the wine, you bring the plastic wrap." I could hear the smile in his voice and the edge of desire creeping into his tone.
It made me tingle despite the fact that we were most definitely an old married couple. I still love him, and even more than the day I realized I loved him the first time.
"I've got it covered." Barely, if I had my way about it.
"I'll see you later. Thanks for getting the fish tank done today."
"It was my tank, my responsibility," I agreed without him saying it. Thinking of the tank, I turned toward it in time to see the water nearing the upper edge. "Woah! I have to go! Water's getting high."
"Go take care of it," he answered quickly. "Bye."
I slammed the phone down on the bar in a dead heat to get to the spigot and turn the water off. Now *that* would have been a mess. I might have ended up with fish flopping on the floor awash in puddles of water.
Ebay crossed my mind again.
I got the water turned off just in time to save myself from having a huge mess. As I faced the dreaded recoiling of the 25-foot hose, the light in the fish tank winked out and the pump stopped running just as I got the hose disconnected from the spigot. I glanced over at the clock on the microwave and saw it was black. The electricity was out.
"What the—" fell off my lips as I tried to figure out what happened.
The sun was pouring through the windows so I knew a storm hadn't knocked it out. Someone could have hit a transformer, I supposed. I knew it wasn't anything I had done. I mean, it wasn't like the last time when I had the iron plugged in on the same circuit as my high-powered flat-iron while I blow-dried my hair.
But that's another story.
It must be a transformer. That was the only thing it could have be—
Oh, God. My stomach plopped to the pit of my gut. I knew why the lights were out and it had nothing to do with a transformer. My life flashed before my eyes – well, maybe not my whole life, but definitely the events that led to its ultimate end. It *was* my fault!
It all started when we had a problem with the web banking. Our electric bill came in, all pretty in pink, which is never a good thing. Nelson was as furious as he ever gets because he had paid the bill online, so to get a late notice was beyond acceptable. He even had his confirmation number proving the payment was processed. He called the electric company and told them all about it and they were sorry, but they never got the payment. He had to "work it out with his bank", but they still needed to be paid in order for us to have "uninterrupted service".
"Zach, will you take this by the post office first thing in the morning?" he had asked me. "We have to get this payment to them before next week or they're turning off the electricity."
Oh, I said, "sure" and sure I was. I was running errands with Ben the next day anyway so I could do it on the way. In my mind's eye I saw the replay. Ben picking up the envelope from the front passenger's seat and stuffing it under the visor. Out of sight, out of mind. An entire week of out of sight out of mind.
I rushed to the garage to confirm what my memory told me, slipping into the passenger's seat. I peeked overhead and immediately spotted the edge of the envelope even before I folded down the visor.
"Fuck," I muttered to myself as I pulled the envelope out of hiding.
I rushed back into the house and called the electric company, uttering a silent prayer of "please, please" over and over. They had to turn the lights back on, they had to! Nelson would filet me, no question about it. Never mind the fish in the fish tank. He had given the responsibility to me and I had dropped the ball, and that's precisely how he'd see it.
I frantically jabbed at the numbers on the phone as soon as I had found the electric company's customer service line in the phone book, then I paced the kitchen floor waiting for them to answer. According to the mechanical voice on the phone, I was number three in line to be assisted. Cujo was persistently scraping his toenails on the kitchen door, yapping at it to open at once, so I paced my way toward the door to let him in.
He always looked happy to me, his spitty tongue hanging out the side of his mouth more often than not. It made him look not only goofy, but like he had this devil-may-care, shit-eating grin on his face. It made him loveable, and somehow managed to make things seem less bleak, at least while I was looking at him. No wonder nursing homes liked having animals around. They made you feel better in spite of yourself and without trying.
Making me feel better didn't get me out of the hole I had dug. It just made me feel more like I would survive. Painfully, possibly, but I would survive. I nearly raised my voice in song.
"I will survive, I will survive!" played through my mind and was cut off by an operator asking if she could assist me.
Damn straight, she could.
"Yes, ma'am. Our lights were just cut off and I'm pretty sure I know—"
"Name?" she asked blandly.
"Zach Bartholomew. You see, I –"
"Address?" she interrupted me again. She had a job to do damn it, and no time to chit chat with me or hear my woes.
I let the specifics of where we lived roll off my tongue then got back down to business. "I know what happened. I meant to—"
"We turned your lights off," she informed me.
No shit. Really? I hadn't noticed. My mouth was agape as I waited for her to ask where Washington was when the lights went out.
"In the dark, my kind woman. In the dark."
"Excuse me?" she said.
You mean, she was actually listening to a gosh darn thing I said?? When did she start listening??
"I know you turned the electricity off," I informed her, my pacing picking up speed. "What do I do about it?"
"You need to pay your bill," she said coolly.
Wow. That never occurred to me.
What did occur to me was to be nice to Cruella Deville, as she held the key to my salvation and in getting the lights turned back on.
"I know that," I told her with as much sucrose as I could muster. "But when can you have the lights back on?"
"When can you pay?" she retorted.
"Today," I assured her. "I can come by today."
She sighed like I was really interrupting her busy day. Probably taking her away from Oprah or Ellen – Ellen I could understand her frustration, but I was never too into Oprah.
"I suppose if you get here before we close, we could get the electricity back on today."
About a fifty pound weight lifted off my shoulders. "I'll be right there."
"Ask for Joanne at the desk."
"Ok. Wait!" I demanded. "Where is the office?"
I scrambled for a piece of paper while she droned on with the address and I managed to get it written down without having to ask for a repeat.
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I'll be right over."
I tossed the phone aside and stepped over the hose still hanging in the fish tank. "You'll have to wait until I get home," I said to the hose. I didn't have time to fool with that. I had my ass to save.
I jumped in the car and took off, my directions clutched in my hand. I hoped I'd get there before my sweaty palms smeared the words on my scribbled directions to the point I couldn't read them. I had that horrible panicky feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I had such grand plans for the evening when Nelson got home. Now they were all shot to hell. There was no way I wasn't going to get killed for this one if Nelson found out. I didn't think so, anyway. But maybe I'd just get a Nelson lecture and lines or something like that. Something to help me remember when I agree to pay the electric bill that I'll actually *do* it, or some other ridiculous expectation.
I hoped to hell Joanne was right and she would actually be able to get the lights back on before Nelson had a need to know. I knew one thing: I didn't want to think about it anymore.
I didn't *need* to think about it. The time to think had come and gone. If I had been thinking before, then I would have remembered the electric bill, and if I had remembered, I would have dropped it in the mail, and if I dropped the bill in the mail, the electricity would still be on. Too little, too late.
I trained my focus on the task at hand. Get to the electric company and pay the bill. I arrived in record time, and Joanne was kind enough to take my money, bless her heart, *plus* a $50 service charge for turning the lights back on. I totally understood, don't get me wrong. It takes a hell of a lot of work to flip a damn switch, after all. We all realize that. She handled our account with a mechanical precision that dared human emotion to get anywhere near her, then promised in her deadpan customer service tone that all would be well by the time I got home. I prayed she was right.
It had been such crappy day, starting with my partner shutting down my sexual advances, then there was the kid from hell, then the stupid fish tank, then the lights! What more could happen?!
First of all, never *ever* ask that question. Second of all… I don't really have a second of all, just a first of all, and that was because that sentence simply sounded like it needed to start with first of all.
But I digress.
As soon as I wondered what more could go wrong, all I could see were brake lights: brake lights to the right of me, brake lights to the left of me, brakes square in front of me. I slammed on my own brakes even as the question crossed my mind. Traffic was dead-stopped on the freeway. Perfect! I was hoping something else would happen. Things were getting a LIT-tle dull in the Jameson-Bartholomew household. I was anxious for a distraction.
Right.
What now?! I was sure I probably didn't want to know. I craned my neck to see but nothing but brake lights glared back at me. As hard as I tried, I couldn't see beyond the four million or so cars in front of me and in my way. It had to be a wreck. I just hoped it wasn't a bad one, or one messy enough to leave me stranded going nowhere for any length of time. I settled into the driver's seat and turned the radio up. Despite whatever was holding me up, I turned my attention to the only silver lining: I had gotten the electricity bill taken care of. Things were looking up.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized Nelson shouldn't be mad at me at all. It wasn't that big of a deal really, now that it was taken care of. It was my fault the lights were turned out, but I paid for my mistake by having to shell out the $50 reconnect fee. Punishment decided and delivered, even without Nelson's help or input. No harm, no foul. It would all be history by the time Nelson got home anyway – assuming of course that the lights were back on - and we could focus on dinner and pick up where we left off when he was pressed for time.
Oh, but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? I mean, come on. What was I thinking? There wouldn't be much of a story if it were *easy*. Nooo. There has to be a climax, a hook, something other than window dressing and fancy words. Easy would be boring. A pretty flimsy plot, if I do say so. Nothing even worthy of a diary entry, even though it had already been one calamity after the other all day.
The wreck that left me on the freeway for an hour plus Nelson leaving work early, put me about fifteen minutes behind him getting home. Even though the idea of meeting him at the door dressed in my evening best Saran would have been exciting, what actually transpired was more climactic than good sex.
I walked in to find Nelson mopping the kitchen floor – in a lit house, by the way, many thanks to Joanne de Lovely. The gurgling aquarium was the second thing that registered in my mind – why was it gurgling when I had filled it up? I quickly spied the hose piled up in the sink and a ton of water in the floor. About the same amount that seemed to be missing from the aquarium.
Nelson cut his eyes at me and stopped mopping. "Where were you?"
Whoa! He was a little bit irritated. Was it sexual frustration? I wished. I was terribly afraid that all signs pointed to 'no'.
"I had to go out. What happened?"
"You drained the tank into the kitchen floor."
"I did not," I countered. "It was fine when I left."
"I came home to the fish tank still gurgling, the hose hanging out of it and water pouring all over the floor." He paused a few lengthy seconds then added, "And you nowhere to be found."
The water siphoned out. Shit on a brick. "It must have fallen out of the sink while I was gone."
"Where did you go in such a hurry?" he demanded to know.
"What makes you think I was in a hurry?"
How did he know I left in a hurry?! I didn't leave a post-it on the fridge, did I? No, I'd have remembered that. I should have known better than to ask, though. He knows everything, my Norse god. Omniscience comes with the package.
"The kitchen was being flooded, the TV was still on, and Cujo was left inside," he explained. "And you must have put the steaks on the table to thaw. Cujo was busy enjoying them when I walked in. The kitchen chair was pulled out so I assume he climbed up there and helped himself."
Oh, crap. The lights being out just became quite a bigger issue.
"Where is he?" I asked anxiously, tickled pink I had ditched the newspaper.
"He's outside. Where were you?" he asked me again, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He leaned a forearm non-threateningly across top of the mop handle, but the tone of his voice was downright scary. That was
I took a deep breath and spewed out the truth in a rush. Most of it, anyway. "I had to go pay the electric bill."
His jaw almost cracked against the fish-watered floor. He was so surprised it was almost funny. Almost. "You *just* paid that today? I asked you to do that over a week ago."
"It was right at a week, not a lot over. And yes, today, because I forgot."
"You forgot? How could you forget that, Zach? What if they had turned the lights off?" he demanded.
Well, let's see. I'm not sure, but I think I would have rushed to their office and paid the bill before my partner discovered our silent and darkened house, that's what. Hypothetically.
Or in this case, reality, but he *was* asking hypothetically. Real or Memorex didn't really matter because either way, I really didn't want to answer his question. So I decided it was rhetorical more than hypothetical, and as such, did not require an actual answer at all.
A change of topic was needed immediately. "Here, let me mop and get the tank filled back up. It's my tank, my mess. You go change and maybe we can get some pizza or something since Cujo ate dinner."
He sighed and handed me the mop. "It was a mess to walk into," he mumbled. He paused in the doorway and looked firmly at me. "We'll talk about all this when I get done changing."
'Course we would. I nodded and kept my eyes trained on the mop.
"Cujo's muzzle was covered in blood from his steak dinner, by the way. He needs a bath. We'll need to do that, too."
"I'll do it." I was ever so gracious and compliant. No need to ruffle his feathers beyond wanting to talk downstairs. I could live with that. Talking upstairs was Bad.
So, Nelson went upstairs by himself, and I busied myself by hooking the hose back up to the spigot so I could start over with the stupid fish tank. Wasn't I just here? Didn't I just finish with this? The day had circled back around for sure. I turned my attention back to the mopping so I could finish that up while the fish tank filled.
While I was working, I wondered how much trouble I was in. It couldn't be that bad, could it? I mean, I hadn't been invited to study the corner or anything. Had to be a nice, lengthy, insightful lecture. What a relaxing ending to a hectic day. It might drone on long enough to put me right to sleep, although that wouldn't be an appropriate response to a Nelson lecture. A lecture wasn't the best of prospects, but it wouldn't really make the day that much worse. It had been about as bad as it could get.
Famous last words.
My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing phone while I was elbow deep in squeezing out the mop for another pass over the floor. Great.
"Can you get that?" I bellowed through the house. Whoever it was would probably be gone by the time I got my hands dried and to the phone. "Nelson?!"
It was on the fourth ring when it stopped mid-jingle. Nelson got it, thank God. I was just about finished with the mop job when I sensed, as much as heard, Nelson's presence in the doorway.
I paused and looked up to find him with his hands on his hips, staring at me. That wasn't good. What the hell else could have happened?! Had something else gone to shit upstairs while I wasn't looking? Fuck's sake!
"What?" I asked him cautiously.
"That was the electric company on the phone."
Well, hell.
"Oh, really?"
He started walking toward me. Stalking, in fact. "Yes, really," he nodded. "Care to hazard a guess at what they might have wanted?"
Hazard? No. It was hazardous enough already, thank you very much. I had to tread carefully. The thin ice beneath my feet was giving me frostbite. "Not really."
"I think you might have a good idea what they wanted," he said calmly.
"Do you?"
I find it's best to hedge during a serious chat by answering questions only with more questions. Questions aren't really answers, if you know what I mean. Answers can get your ass in a heap of trouble, and pushy partners don't care for silence, so questions usually work best. They want an answer when they ask a question, not silence. Unreasonable so-and-sos.
His eyebrows shot up knowingly. "Oh, yeah. I do. I think you know exactly why they were calling."
"To sell us a bigger package?"
"That's not why they called and you know it."
He stopped with the questions. Didn't mean I had to. "I do?" I bobbed and weaved gracefully.
"Quit it."
"Quit what?" It was just too hard to stop once I had some momentum.
"They turned the lights off today and you knew it, didn't you?"
Damn. That was pointed enough to pierce the skin. "Maybe?"
"'Maybe' is not an answer. Yes or no, Zachary?"
I sighed, knowing the jig was up. "Yes, sir."
"They turned the lights off, then you rushed out of here to pay the bill and get the lights turned back on. Meanwhile, the fish tank was draining into the floor, and the dog was eating our dinner. Does that about cover it?"
"Well…"
"Yes or no."
"It's not a yes or no answer!" I threw back at him. I hate when he does that! Every question does not require purely black and white answers! He's color blind to 'grey', for Gosh's sakes. Bad enough I have to help dress him, but hell!
"Why?" he queried.
"Because it's a 'sort of' yes answer." I didn't think it was the right time to give him a lesson on grey. I figured stepping cautiously was the wisest thing I had done all day.
"Fill in the blanks, Zach. We aren't doing this all evening long."
I flipped through the events of the day and winced at how everything fell apart right at the end. "I realized I had forgotten the bill when the lights went off so I called electric company. They said I could come down and pay today and they'd turn them back on, so I did. I had finished with the fish tank before I left."
"Except for putting everything away."
"Well, I had other things on my mind at the time. It didn't seem to be the priority right then and I had no way to know it was going to siphon all the water out."
He sighed irritably. "So you left right then to go to the office."
"Yeah. I guess the hose fell out of the sink and that's how it siphoned the water into the floor. That's all that it could have been."
"Probably. And Cujo ate our dinner while you were gone."
I supposed that was my fault, too! Sheesh! I could see where this was heading. Oh, yes, I could see. I wasn't blind for heaven's sake!
"Look, the only thing I'm guilty of is forgetting to pay the bill and if anyone should be blamed for that, it's Ben because he stuck it under the visor and I couldn't see it."
"It was still your responsibility. If you couldn't handle it, you shouldn't have agreed. But there's more to this story that bothers me. Do you know what that is?"
Duh. Of course I knew. We hadn't been together for all the years we had shared and not learned each other.
"How can I not know? Crap hit the fan while I was out and I shouldn't have been out to begin with because I should have mailed the check."
Wow. Where did that come from? I just gave him everything he needed to wring my neck legally.
"That's part of it."
"What do you mean 'part'? What else did I do?"
"Decided to keep it to yourself. In fact, you never did tell me what happened. I had to guess and you finally confirmed."
Awwww, HELL. I was so fixated on all the tangible stuff that I totally missed the biggie! Shit, shit, SHIT.
"I got the lights back on. There wasn't anything to tell." I squirmed. It was so obvious. I tried to keep my feet still because that just screams, "He's guilty! Look, look! GUILTY!!!"
He continued accusing me. "Even when I mentioned I couldn't believe they hadn't turned our lights off?"
"I didn't say they didn't."
"You didn't say they did, either."
Bullseye! He nailed me with that one.
His hands crept back to his hips. "It took twenty questions to get you to fess up even after the phone call. You purposely kept it to yourself because you thought you would be in trouble over it, didn't you?"
Of course I did! Why did he have to ask me! It was hard not to implicate oneself when asked questions directly. I know. I've been there. I was there right then! The stress of finding myself in trouble was building like steam in a pressure cooker and I blew. Oh, yeah, sky high.
"Why would I tell you?! I knew you'd go ballistic even though I had taken care of it, and I wasn't in the mood for ballistic, and I didn't think ballistic was called for! I still don't. I had a hard day, a really hard day, but did you bother to ask me about it? No." I crossed my arms indignantly.
"Did I go ballistic when you told me you hadn't paid the bill?"
Um… no, actually. But he was well on his way to ballistic after he got that phone call. It was all over his face. I shrugged at him noncommittally.
He said, "I didn't and you know it. Was I planning to have a thing or two to say about it? Most definitely."
I didn't want to tell him, but that sort of went without saying. He always had something to say about stuff like that. I didn't want to risk him taking a hands on approach, too, though. But I was quite sure I'd have come around eventually. I usually can't hide things from Nelson for too long, but I barely had time to think about it. I walked square into the middle of chaos when I got home. I wasn't expecting the third degree any more than I was expecting him home early to mop, let alone the mess in the kitchen.
He said, "I told you we were going to talk about it. I was leaning toward lines at the time."
At the time? Sounded to me like that ship had sailed. Yes, I believed it had. I strained to listen; I could hear the ship's horn bleating in the distance as it moved farther from me. I sadly waved goodbye as it floated out to sea. I wasn't surprised to see a familiar dorsal fin swimming toward me in its stead. I had had enough of fish for one day, sharks and all.
"I took care of it," I muttered.
"A little late."
"But I did! And I paid the extra to get the lights turned back on. And you know you'd have had a cow if I had told you they turned off the lights. You're having one now."
"I am hardly 'having a cow', Zach," he disagreed, but I could see the head cresting. Disgusting. "I don't have to give birth to cattle to be unhappy with you keeping things from me. That was the icing on the cake, not the fact that they turned the lights off, so let's not muddle the issue."
Give birth to cattle. I almost laughed, more from the jitters than from Nelson's comment. And did he say "muddle"? Really? Who the hell says "muddle"?? I could feel the bubbling of nervous laughter trying to rumble up in my throat, but I wisely choked it off. My hope for just a lecture was long gone and I was squirming, and seriously not happy, despite any nervous laughter.
I told him the honest truth. "I just wasn't up to telling you when I had the chance."
"That's too bad," he said sadly. "The rest of it was bad enough. You make a habit of putting things off until the last minute; we both know that. Just like with the fish tank."
We both glanced over at the same time to see that the water was precariously close to the top. "Crap!" I yelled, and made a mad dash to the sink, dropping the mop as I ran.
Nelson picked up the mop and started swirling it over a spot I missed on the kitchen floor. "Get that put away then we need to go upstairs," he said simply and casually.
UPstairs? If there had been any question in my mind before about the degree of trouble I was in, that question mark was gone. And I fully disagreed: we didn't *need* to go upstairs. There wasn't a thing up there I had to have at the time, and I was perfectly content to stay downstairs! Perfectly! I really wasn't wanting to have my ass beat that day – not any day, actually, but especially not that day. It had been one thing after the other. I was supposed to be dressed in Saran Wrap for Pete's sake! I wouldn't feel like doing anything fun later if we needed 'to go upstairs'. Never mind I wouldn't be in the mood.
I wound the hose slowly and carefully – no need to rush – but still slopped some more water on the floor. Nelson didn't even huff or anything, he just brought the mop over and swashed it over the new puddle.
"Sorry," I muttered. I tucked the hose back under the aquarium where it belonged, and Nelson propped the mop in the corner.
"Ok, let's go," he said holding his hand out to me.
That was *not* what I had planned for the evening! I wasn't ready! I didn't want that! "Nelson…"
"Zach, it's no point in arguing with me. You intentionally hid this from me, after having the perfect opportunity to tell me, more than once, actually. Not to mention all the rest of it."
"But…" I sputtered. I really didn't know what to follow it with so it hung in distance between us all by its lonesome. I just didn't want to go upstairs in a big way. Of course I didn't tell him! I knew it had the potential to get me hauled upstairs, and here I was, perfectly content downstairs, about to get hauled upstairs anyway!
Maybe I deserved it. It still felt like overkill or something. Maybe a bit too unexpected. Most of the time, I know I'm in trouble long before I'm faced with it. I hadn't had time to reconcile the fact that I was in serious trouble before trouble was fast upon me. Not just lines or lecture trouble, either, and my brain was frantically rejecting the notion. Vetoed, all those opposed, etc. That day, it seemed like trouble came out of nowhere, and me nor my brain got a vote or a say.
Nelson wasn't saying anything. Not a word. His vote carried the election, and we both knew it. He was just standing there, placidly, with his hand still reaching toward me. I wanted to back away from it, like it was a hot poker, but my feet were sort of glued to the spot so I couldn't go forward or backward. Maybe there was some fish stuff still on the floor that I missed. I glanced down, as much out of guilt as to check the floor. We both stood there silently, the minutes stretching into years, give or take. Wonder why he wasn't snapping his fingers or making demands for me to get going?
Probably to let me come to terms with it. Did that mean if I didn't go, he'd eventually drop his hand?
Doubtful. A guy can dream, can't he?
I finally took a cautious step toward him. Paused. Waited another lifetime.
Unfortunately, I have about nine lives. At least.
Ultimately I was within reach, and my left hand sold me out by slipping itself into Nelson's right. What's that Bible verse about your hand offending you? Aren't you supposed to cut it off? I glanced toward the butcher block knife holder and considered it, but Nelson dragged me away from the kitchen and toward the stairs. The UPstairs.
I trudged along behind Nelson still baffled that I was about to get spanked. I couldn't believe how I ended up at that point! How did I go from just having a bad day to having a Really bad day? Shit on a popsicle stick! It wasn't like I had willfully planned for everything to happen like it did. It all happened so fast, I didn't have time to decide whether I was going to tell him everything or not. I just didn't tell him when I had the chance. How was it that things were so clearly in the right or wrong camp to Nelson when the lines looked so blurry to me? Grey, Nelson! Grey!
I wondered if I would have eventually told him even though I hadn't right away. Would I? My gut said probably. Most likely. The odds were good that it would happen in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep for hiding it from him. Point being, there was no proof one way or the other that I had hidden anything or premeditatedly plotted to keep anything from him. He couldn't prove I never would have told him just like I couldn't prove I ever would have.
Before I had a chance to sort it out, he was perched on the edge of the bed and I was at his side. How the hell did that happen so fast?
"What are you thinking?" he asked me, still holding my hand.
Well, that was a shocker. I frowned and looked at him. He said, "You're unusually quiet. What's on your mind?"
He wanted me to come clean, then here I came. "That I can't believe I'm in trouble. That I didn't plan a single thing that happened today and somehow it all went to hell, and I'm paying for it. Somehow, it doesn't feel fair because you don't know that I wouldn't have told you ever. Basically, I'm in trouble for being dishonest and I wasn't being that way. The least you could have done was waited to see if I would tell you or not, but you went straight to assuming I wouldn't." I paused for a breath. "That's what I'm thinking."
"I see," he said. The wheels were churning as he did his own thinking. It didn't take him long to reach a conclusion in what he wanted to say. "You had two chances to tell me tonight. At least."
"But I wasn't expecting to have to deal with it right then. I didn't know you were going to be home."
"So if you'd have had more time, you would have told me." It was a statement, not a question.
"I think I would."
"That's funny. From where I sat, it didn't look like you planned to be very forthcoming."
Sheesh.
"Neither of us knows what I would or wouldn't have done later."
"Nope. You're right about that, and I think you probably would have told me. I'm punishing you for what you failed to do, not what you might do later."
See what I mean? Right camp or wrong camp. Black or white. Never the twain shall meet. Ever.
"This all stemmed from you not paying the bill when I asked you to. Then you waited until the last minute to get the fish tank done, and when the lights were turned off and you had to rush to pay the bill, that delay came back to bite you."
In the ass. Right *square* in the ass.
He had more to say. "I had to ask you three times to tell me where you went. You didn't even want to do that much, so you were thinking on some level of keeping this from me."
He had me there. I didn't want to tell him any of it, to be honest. I really don't like telling him when I screw up, not just because we might end up talking upstairs in the bedroom, even though that has a lot to do with it. I don't like telling him something that I know is going to disappoint him.
Just then, I knew he was right. I suddenly felt resigned to the fact that I was in trouble, and just wanted it over with. It might not qualify as big trouble, but it was enough to qualify for an upstairs talk. A lot of little things added up to get me there.
Life sucks sometimes.
"Anything else we need to talk about?" he asked.
I couldn't think of a thing, so I just shrugged. He reached for my belt and I looked down at his fingers nimbly undoing it, my nerves twisting my innards as the moment of truth loomed. He had my khakis and underwear at my knees before you could say, "they turned the lights off today, Nelson", and I quickly found myself ass-up over his lap.
My eyes were burning about as quickly as my backside, and I was choking out sobs of remorse and sincerest apologies as much as my breath would allow. He wore my butt out, but granted, he didn't spank as hard as he could have, I guess. Don't misunderstand: it still hurt like hell and I felt it afterwards, but I knew the difference in a looooong talk upstairs and Nelson making a loud point. This was a point I didn't miss, but it wasn't one I'd be feeling the next day. It was enough that I was plenty grateful when he stopped.
I crooked over on my hip when we sat together downstairs, me curled against him while he caressed my back. I had transitioned to the double-clutch breathing that always follows a good cry after I've just been killed, and I sniffed woefully again. Life was so cruel. I had gotten about all the usefulness I could from the single Kleenex I still clung to, and Nelson handed me a fresh tissue.
"We were supposed to have a romantic evening," I bemoaned my luck. "It was such a shitty day."
"What else went wrong today?" he asked me gently.
"First I had the kid from hell in the studio. I survived that, but then the rest with the fish tank and the lights. Then on the way home, there was an accident and I was stuck in traffic forever, which is probably why you beat me here. Then… you were here for all the rest. Just a crappy day all around," I sniveled, feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. I was my own worst enemy sometimes, but I was a strong supporter of me when I needed to feel like a victim.
He stroked my hair back and kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry you had a bad day, I really am."
"It was the worst." He hugged me tight and kissed me again. I don't know how, but it helped.
Even though my butt was burning and thumping, I was enjoying sitting there in his lap. The punishment was over, I had paid for my misdeeds, both to Nelson and that bitch, Joanne. There was little left of the day from hell.
I thought.
There was a familiar yip at the backdoor and Nelson sighed. "Cujo."
"He can stay outside a little longer." I was as comfy as I could be, and not at all ready to be roused from my roost.
"I hate to break it to you," he said wryly, "but we still need to give him a bath."
NOOOOOOOOOOOO! And I distinctly remembered saying I'd do it myself. It was my fault he got into the steaks in the first place. My punishment continued.
"I'll do it," I sighed.
I moved to get up and Nelson locked his arms around me tighter. "In a minute. There's no rush to do it right now."
"I'd like to just get it over with," I said as I started to rise.
"I'll help you," he offered.
"No, I'll get it done. Can you order pizza or something for dinner?"
He looked at me with a worried expression on his face. "I'll order pizza but then I'll come up and help."
"I'm fine, Nelson. It's just been a crappy day."
We went to the kitchen and he let Cujo in; I grabbed his little white self as he bounded into the house. "I'll be up in a minute," Nelson said again.
I wasn't in the mood to argue with him, so I didn't. I ran the water and stuck Cujo in the tub. He was being unusually cooperative. Maybe he felt guilty for eating the steak. He didn't look it, though, still having the evidence smeared on his muzzle.
"Why'd you have to go and eat the steak?" I castigated him as I worked his wiry white fur into a lather.
He blinked at me but refused to answer. I didn't think he was at all contrite. My butt was still throbbing and I reached for a towel to kneel on so I could stay off my rear.
Then it happened. Fast, just like everything else had that day.
I saw a flash of light as I turned in slow motion toward it. No, it wasn't light, I realized in horror. It was *white*. It was lathered. It was Cujo!
He flew out of the tub as soon as my hands were off him and my back was turned, and out the door he went.
"Mother fu--!" I started to swear.
It JUST figured! I left BARELY a crack in the door, but he got it opened. He was as fast as lightning, and the only evidence of him I found on the way downstairs were wet paw prints on the carpet. But then I turned the corner, and there he was, wriggling, yet held fast by Nelson's capable hands.
Nelson lifted him toward me with a grin. "Lose something?"
I was frazzled and failed to see the humor. "I'm going to kill him. I mean it. I'm done."
"Newspaper isn't nearly so harsh," he admonished, swiping a lathered finger across the end of my nose. "Come on. I'll carry the escapee."
I gruffly swiped the soap off my nose. "Par for the course today," I reported as we plopped Cujo back in his bath. "Nothing's gone right for me."
Nelson had the forethought to close the bathroom door ALL the way, so Cujo wasn't going anywhere, should he attempt another escape.
Nelson worked on scrubbing the little varmint down again. "We're going to get him clean, towel him off, then curl up on the sofa with beer and a pizza. We'll forget about the rest of the day. It will get better, I promise."
"I don't think I'm getting out of bed tomorrow," I said.
"Now, if today were Friday, I'd say that's a good idea. You could model some of your latest Saran Wrap ensembles for me."
Saturday seemed like a long way off. Maybe I'd be in the mood again by then. I poured a cup of clean water over Cujo while Nelson held him in place. "If I had known what was going to happen by you coming home early, I'd have never suggested it," I told him honestly.
Then I paused as I had another thought. "Wait. What if you hadn't beaten me home? What if I got home first and cleaned up the mess?"
He took the cup from me and started rinsing Cujo where I left off. "I would have answered the phone and found out anyway," he replied nonchalantly.
"What if they hadn't called?" And I hadn't asked him to answer the phone?! What a dumbass I am sometimes. That's taking 'asking for it' to a whole new level.
"And you stuck to your guns on not telling me anything about it?" he asked me dangerously. "What do you think would have happened?"
"Nothing if I had kept my big mouth shut."
"Because I'd have been none the wiser. You would have hidden it all from me and I'd have never known. But if you did crumble later and tell me…"
I waited with baited breath, even though I was pretty sure of the answer.
"The same thing would have happened, only probably worse, depending on how long you kept it to yourself. Surprised?"
"No," I answered honestly. "Not at all, actually."
"So really, you got off easier this way."
My tenderized ass and I thoroughly disagreed. I frowned at him and my mouth dropped open as he placed our wet dog in the towel I stretched out. "Easier? You seriously need to work on empathy. From what I could see from my floor-facing perspective, there wasn't anything easy about it."
He chuckled and towel-dried our little runt. "Think about it, Zach. If you told me later, the guilt would have eaten you up between now and when you finally cracked. Then you'd have gotten spanked worse for waiting so long. Easier, see?"
"No, because you're forgetting the other option. Not telling you at all."
"You'd have still felt guilty and I would have had to drag it out of you eventually after you beat yourself up for a day or so. You don't do secrets real well because you know it isn't allowed, and that would lead to guilt, which you also don't do well, and that would lead to me..."
Hmm. Things were starting to come together. "That's why you didn't wait to see if I would tell, even after you got the phone call."
"Yep. Why would I let you dig yourself in deeper?"
He was looking out for me after all, letting me off about as easily as he could have, given the circumstances.
"It all made sense after I got the call," he said. "The dog inside, the TV on…"
What a couple of coconuts. We were really good at putting two and two together. No wonder we made such a good couple.
"All right, Cujo. You're finished," he announced, taking Cujo from me and setting him on the floor. "You're lucky Zach had pitched the newspaper, mister."
He cocked an accusatory brow my way. "What?" I shrugged. "No need for us both to get our butts smacked."
"He's got to learn to stay away from the table, Zach."
My shoulders sagged. "Please tell me you aren't going to start lecturing again after you *know* I've had a bad day. A really bad day."
He laughed and pulled me to him, hugging me tight. "I won't."
The doorbell rang, and I couldn't resist. "Saved by the bell."
"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," he said as we mounted the stairs to get our dinner.
"I am, actually."
Cujo was wide-open as we entered the living room, frisky like he always was after a bath. He was rubbing his face against the carpet, his tail wagging the whole time he scooched his damp body all over the rug.
Nelson said, "He really does need to learn…"
"Nelson!"
He laughed and grabbed my hand, kissing the back of it. "Sorry. I'll shut up."
With pizza at the door, the dog clean, the fish tank taken care of, lights on, no unruly kids around, and a promise from Nelson not to nag, the evening was looking brighter.
Finally.
The End