Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Tit for Tat

My wife is delusional. But don’t worry. I set her straight. Somehow she got the impression that I’m deep and complicated. It took me all of five seconds to dispel that myth.

On the way in to work this morning she turned to me and said, “Remember a few years ago, right after your mom died, when you were in the kitchen at the office and I walked in?”

Sure. That time? What the hell, is my middle name Memorex? “What about it?” Small white lies don’t count. That’s my rule. Besides, I was not in the mood for a deep, philosophical, let’s pick your brain apart kind of conversation. In fact, I could sum up all the times I was in the mood for such conversations on no fingers.

She made that exasperated sound you women make when confronted with wisdom such as mine. You know, the half sigh, half cough sound.

“When I walked in and you stared at me with so much emotion in your face and I told you your mother had her reasons not to fight it.”

Such emotion in my face? What the fuck ever. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. I remember. What about it?”

“Well, when you were staring at me so intensely, do you remember what you were thinking? I’ve always wondered.”

If I could have sighed without getting smacked I would have. So instead I pondered a moment. And to my surprise, I could actually recall that day. She had stepped really close to me without saying anything.

I clicked on my blinker and glanced at her as I looked over my shoulder before changing lanes. Damn, she’s pretty. She wore her hair down today. I like it down.

“That if you got two inches closer your nipples would touch me.”

She backhanded me in the gut.

“Hey! I’m driving here!”

That’s what you were so focused on?”

“I was trying to will you with my mind.” I wanted to laugh when she folded her arms on top of her belly. “Oh, come on. What were you thinking?”

“I felt sorry for you, Jay. I wanted to console you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were sad.”

I was so going to nail her ass to the wall with this one. “Bullshit. Geoffrey is sad. I was fine. And you damn sure didn’t need to get up against me to console me.”

She had the nerve to gasp. “What are you saying?”

There you go, honey. Bite that bait. “Come on, Jazz. That was months after Mom died. You need to own that shit. You had on the big shoes, the hair and makeup going on, you were smelling good, and you walked right up in my face. I can’t believe you didn’t go for my fly. You know you wanted – Ow, stop it! I’m driving, dammit! Get back on your side before I pull over and kick your ass out.”

“I was trying to be nice to you!”

Do I look dumb? I glanced over at her. She was angry. Funny thing was, I hadn’t thought about that day in years. I don’t know why she brought it up now, but with everything that’s happened since then, today was the first time I realized I might have a point. She wanted me. She had me fooled with the comment about Mom that day, but now that I added it all up...oh, yeah. I’m the man.

“Baby, come on.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“You’re about 28 weeks too late for that, don’t you think?” Silence. Ah, hell, it was funny to me, at least. That’s all that counts, right? “Hey. Look at me.”

She cut her eyes my direction. I shouldn’t have been smiling but it was completely beyond my control.

“I was too fixated on your eyes to think of anything else. Honest.”

That seemed to pacify her. She stopped backhanding me, at least. We went about another five minutes before I tried to reengage by asking her the same question. “So what were you thinking when you were standing there?”

She pushed her hands through her hair. “I was thinking ‘if you’d close that two inch gap my nipples could touch you.’”

I grinned. “You deserve me.”

“That’s the scary part.”