Big Mouth Ch. 01

"Steve, you've got it all wrong. I love you!"

"Yeah, right, like I believe that anymore."

At that point our two little ones came running in from outside asking when we were eating.

"Pretty soon guys. Why don't the two of you go upstairs and wash up? By the time you come back down we'll be ready to start making our pizzas." They both ran up the stairs.

"Steve, we need to talk and work this out."

"Sorry, you've lied to me for ten years. I'm done believing anything that comes out of your fucking mouth." Tears started flowing again.

We didn't have time to get into it any deeper watching Robert and Amy come bounding down the stairs, hands still damp from their quick wash. Thankfully, they weren't leaving us alone.

Dinner wasn't quiet as the kids experimented with different concoctions on their pizza. I wasn't very hungry. Trying my best to put up a good front, I ate two small pieces. There wasn't anything left in the house to drink, and even if there was I wasn't going there tonight. I needed my wits about me for what was going to probably happen later.

Everyone helped in the kitchen and by seven the dishes were in the dishwasher, the leftover food put away, and the kids had their dessert of chocolate chip cookies and milk. They and I headed for the den to watch a little television. There was no way I was going to get stuck alone with Heather again. She joined us a little later but sat on a chair rather than the couch with us.

For the next hour she stared at me. I knew that look. I could almost see the gears turning in her head. She had tried the tears, since that didn't work she was making plans for her next assault, but it wasn't going to work either.

I would have loved to have left and checked into a motel, only there wasn't enough extra money for an extended stay, and I'd miss my kids. We had a three-bedroom house, so there wasn't a spare bedroom to go to. I started thinking about my options.

We didn't have a basement, and the garage wasn't something I was going to even consider, that left the den. Because of the size of the room it only had a small couch and two overstuffed chairs. There wasn't a chance in hell I could sleep on the couch, which left the blowup bed we kept on hand for overnight guests. My mind was going a mile a minute and I knew as soon as Robert and Amy went to bed Heather would start in on me again. I had to be prepared.

It was shortly after eight thirty when the kids were finally down for the count, and I was putting into effect my own plans for the night.

"Steve, we need to talk," Heather said, watching me pull down the inflatable mattress bed.

"About what? I think I heard all I wanted to hear Saturday."

"Honey, I've tried to explain to you that it was all a stupid misunderstanding, and in no way do I find you inadequate." The look on her face was that of someone pleading their case before the high court hoping against hope not to receive the death penalty. She knew she'd screwed up big time. I grabbed the blow-up bed and headed for the den.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked, then realized what was happening. "Steve, come to our bed, we can work this out," Heather said, grabbing for me when we hit the den. I turned, gave her an ugly look, she immediately removed her hand from my arm.

"The only reason I'm even in the house right now is because of Robert and Amy. If I had my druthers I'd prefer sleeping at the Super 8 than in the same house with you, but I can't see spending the money when I have a perfectly good alternative," I said, watching the bed expand. "I told you Saturday that there is no way in hell I ever want to touch you again, or have you touch me. Just the thought of it makes me gag. Did you think I was fucking kidding?"

She started to protest at what I said.

The anger spewed forth from me like vomit. "Look, keep it up and I will get my ass out of here. Heather, you disgust me and right now you're fucking dead to me." She stepped back at that statement and gasped. "You've got your fucking toys and your memories of BRIAN to keep you warm at night so leave me the fuck alone. Wait, now that I think about it, I always wondered why some nights you were tight and others loose as a fucking goose, at least now I fucking know. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to get my new sleeping quarters set up." I turned my back on her to put the sheets and a blanket on my new bed. When I turned around she was gone.

I didn't sleep much better Monday night than I had Sunday. I was still royally pissed and had more questions than answers. I thought we had a pretty decent love life right out of the blocks. I was average, but hell, most guys were as far as I could tell from the showers at the gym. I wasn't going out of my way to compare myself to anyone there, maybe I should have. My ego up until Saturday wasn't at all fragile because I was taking care of business—so I thought. Now I was second-guessing everything about our marriage. If she was lying about our love making what else wasn't she telling me. I felt angry, jealous, and hurt that she never confided in me, and now I felt like I couldn't trust her anymore. However, what had started creeping into my mind was the unthinkable, up until Saturday anyway. Was she or had she ever cheated on me? I thought not, but now I wouldn't stake my life on it.

The rest of the week sucked. We didn't even live like roommates because even roommates talked to one another. My anger had subsided somewhat, but I no longer looked on her as the love of my life. She was only the mother of my two children.

I was almost sorry when Friday rolled around because I'd be stuck at home with Heather all weekend. My kids were going to be there, but I would bet there was going to be a lot of pressure from Heather to talk about our current living arrangement.

Saturday morning the kids had cold cereal, I had coffee and toast. Heather never made her presence known until almost nine. I was just finishing up and mentioned I'd left her coffee in the pot. I couldn't read her reaction, although I wasn't paying her much attention. I just wanted out of the kitchen, so I headed out to the garage to do something, anything to keep my mind off the matter at hand.

I stayed away from her all the way up until dinner. I did hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill. Heather added the cold slaw and a bean salad. A dish of ice cream and a Netflix movie rounded out the rest of the night.

Neither one of us really watched the movie. When she wasn't watching me, I was watching her. She wasn't happy and neither was I, though I didn't have a clue what to do about it and wasn't sure if I even wanted to.

Once again I slept downstairs in the damn den. I played on the Internet with my work laptop even looking at a few risqué sites. I was still a healthy male even if I hadn't had sex or so much as a kiss in over a week.

Sunday through Wednesday I did on autopilot. We talked when the kids were present, but when they weren't I ignored her as much as possible. Just being in the house together was damn hard. That wasn't the only thing that was getting hard.

It was Thursday about seven when out of the blue David called.

"Hey buddy, you up to having a cold one with a couple of friendly faces?"

I told him, "Hell, yes," and was out the door thirty seconds later, without a word to anyone.

Rick's Tavern was over on Ninth Street, three miles away. It didn't take me long to get there. David must have called from the bar because he, Roger, and Keith, were already half finished with their beers.

"Set my friend up a Corona, will you?" David told the bartender. I grabbed it off the bar and took a long draw off the bottle.

"Damn, that tastes good."

"From what little I've heard from Sue, I figured you might need to get out of there for a few hours. Things still a little tense on the home front?" David inquired.

"A lot more than a little tense. We're together in the house, but apart in most regards. She has her bedroom and I have mine. The kids know something is going on. I'm grateful they're still too young enough to understand the bullshit going on."

"You guys doing any talking yet?" Roger asked.

"Heather opens up her mouth, words fall out, but I don't believe ninety percent of what she's saying. If I told you I never had a fucking inkling would you believe me? Jesus Christ, now I don't have a fucking clue why she married me."

The next swallow finished number one. The bartender brought a quick replacement.

"For what it's worth, Beth says that Heather is miserable and regrets what she said," Roger offered up.

"Let's be real, the only thing she regrets is getting caught. If I hadn't been in the kitchen doorway I'd still be the deaf, dumb, and blind Steve, still being led around by the ring in my nose." My anger was bubbling up again.

"Are you two still going to try to work it out?" Keith asked once more. "Rhonda feels bad about the whole thing happening at our house, but says you should suck it up and get over it. I told her that if she'd said that about me, I'd be in fucking jail for spousal abuse. What don't these women understand?'

"Here, here!" we all said together.

"Right now I don't even know if I want to get back with her. Don't get me wrong, I still love the bitch, but she sure as hell isn't the woman I thought I married."

Roger downed his shot of whiskey and offered his opinion. "No wife should bad mouth her husband to anyone, especially in public. If she has a problem with him, she needs to talk to him, not her fucking girlfriends. Beth and I had words on the way home Saturday about the crack she made about the length of my you know what. It hasn't changed in length one iota since she first met me. If she wasn't satisfied with me way back, then why did she agree to marry me?"

"Damn straight!" I shouted in agreement. "But at least Beth told everyone you were an animal in bed; mine just said I was fucking lame. I guess over the last ten years she'd perfected her lies so well that when told me I satisfied her I believed her. No more," I told my friends.

David was next to offer advice. "Well, don't do anything stupid that can't be fixed. Even though I know you're still pissed at her, I also know you still care for her. I'm just saying to give it time. Just don't let Heather get under your skin or force you into something you're going to regret later."

We drank, we bullshitted, they gave me more advice, and two hours later we were all heading back to our happy homes and wives. That is everyone but me. I didn't consider Heather a loving wife any longer.

"Where have you been? I was worried about you," Heather said when I walked in through the garage door into the kitchen.

"Just had a couple of beers with a few of my friends," I replied in a non-confrontational tone of voice. I did not want to get into it tonight.

"Well, you left in such a hurry I thought there might be something wrong. I'm just glad you're back. You know, if you want to talk, I'm available twenty-four hours a day." She smiled at me. No matter, it wasn't like it was before.

"Maybe later, right now I think I need to go to sleep more than I need anything else." Heather was still trying to smile and look positive even as I walked into the den.

I didn't sleep. Hell, I hadn't had a decent night's rest since this whole nightmare began. I would have given anything to go back to that Saturday afternoon and have picked the long straw. That way I wouldn't have heard what was going on in that kitchen. So what if I would still be clueless, it would be a lot better than what I'm currently going through. I would still love my wife to death and get a woody every time she gave me that come hither look. Now when she tries to give me that look, all I can think about is what are her real motives, can I satisfy her, and who is on her mind—that fucking Brian or me? Damn I hate that name.

The next three weeks, as slow as they went by, were something of a blur. I barely remember much of what happened around the house. I think I was starting to get used to our new normal. Heather still wanted this problem resolved and put behind us and was starting to push me to come back to what used too be our bedroom. I kept telling her I wasn't ready, but like always she wasn't listening.

It wasn't like I took Heather away from Brian, she dumped him after what I'm told was an ugly weekend. We hung with the same large circle of friends in college. We knew each other by sight and name, other than that not very well.

I thought she was hot from the first time I laid eyes on her. I had a thing for blondes and her shoulder length blond locks were the first thing that caught my attention. Then when I stared into her bright, teal blue eyes, I was hooked like a fifteen-year-old high school kid looking at the girl of his dreams.

I was casually dating someone on and off at the time, but after seeing Heather I forgot all about her. I can't say I was obsessed with Heather, only that I always found a way to talk with her whenever we were at the same party or other function. I would smile, put on the charm, and take whatever time I could get. That is until Brian started to feel neglected and pulled in the reins.

Physically Brain and I were almost total opposites. Brian was tall, good looking, had a full head of long flowing dark hair, and usually sported two days facial growth. Most days you could find him at the gym, instead of class, proudly showing off his six-pack to every girl he came in contact with. To this day, I can't remember him ever having his shirt totally buttoned up.

I, on the other hand, am about five foot ten, with short brown hair, pretty average in most areas, and let's just leave it at that. The other thing that set us totally apart was that I was smart and he wasn't. I did say I was good looking, didn't I?

I was in college to do one thing: graduate high enough in my class so I could get a good job and not struggle for the rest of my life like my parents had. Since neither one of them had gone to college, they wanted to make sure I had the opportunity they never got. There was no way I was going to let them down after what they sacrificed for me.

So after giving up my pipe dream of being a football great I put all my effort into my studies. By the time I finished my junior year I had a four-point grade average. I was going places, at least I hoped so.

Over that summer I had the opportunity to do an unpaid internship at a local marketing firm. At first I felt a little out of place being so young and inexperienced. After the first week I found everyone to be so nice I soon felt more at ease and part of the group. Did I have ground breaking ideas that set the firm on its path to instant success and riches beyond their wildest dreams? Get a grip, this was the real world and I was a lowly intern! My job was to keep my mouth shut, help wherever I could, and learn from people who had fifteen plus years experience, and learn I did.

Most people work hard and some even go beyond what's expected of them. However, no one I saw there was driven. They all had been there long enough that just doing their job kept them from getting fired, so they'd become a little lackadaisical. Not me, I had something to prove. Although it took most of the summer, I did end up suggesting a few ideas I thought were a bit out of the box. They wanted me to stay until after the first of the year, but I told them I had a degree to finish and unbeknownst to me at the time, a girl to woo.

Thankfully, over the summer Brian had been his usual asshole self and Heather had about reached her limit with him.

"Steve, where have you been? I've missed you," she said with her heart-melting smile.

"I did a marketing internship and worked part time at a printing company at night to save up enough for this year's tuition. How about you? Are you still seeing, what's his name, Brian?" I knew his name, but I was laying the groundwork for getting her to go out with me.

"I guess we're still seeing one another," she said almost hesitantly, eyeing me up.

"Too bad, I was going to ask to go with me to that jazz festival in the park down by the river Saturday. Cajun food, chilled wine, and good jazz, it's going to be a fantastic night." I'd thrown the bait, oh so close, and I was just waiting to set the hook.

The seconds felt like hours as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as I watched those beautiful eyes never leave mine.

"Pick me up at six and don't go broadcasting we're going together, okay?" was all she said. "Steve, I've got to get going, I've class in twenty minutes. See you Saturday." A kiss on the cheek told me all I needed to know. I didn't even have to set the hook.

Saturday night was fabulous, spectacular, wonderful, and a dozen other adjectives. I would need surgery to remove the smile from my face. We ate, drank a ton of wine, listened to the music, and strolled along the river walkway.

I was the perfect gentleman even though I was hard most of the night. About eleven o'clock we walked hand in hand back to her apartment. I didn't get an invite in, but I did get a kiss with just enough tongue to let me know she'd had a good time. One more peck on the lips and I was heading back to my parents' house, weak in the knees, but with a smile on my face. I'd gotten to first base.

Heather was out of my league; hell, she was out of almost everyone's league. She was hit on constantly, but she'd fallen for shithead hard and it would take everything I'd learned about the two of them to win her over. All I had to do was to be was patient and present, and dickwad would cook his own goose.

We went out secretly at least every other weekend. Forget dinner and a movie, that's what everyone did. I made sure we did fun, out of the ordinary things. An impromptu picnic at the planetarium, a couple's massage class, wine making, and an overnight dinner train ride were just a few of the activities I planned for us. On the train ride she ended up sleeping on my shoulder in the upstairs observation car while I inhaled every scent her body gave off.

We were made for one another, and at five foot seven she fit perfectly in my arms when we danced. Although I'd only caught a few glimpses here and there of her body, what I saw was more than okay with me.

"I've got tickets to the New York Ballet Company for Sunday afternoon, if you're interested," I told Heather on Thursday night. There was a pause—I didn't like the look on her face.

"Brian and I are going away for the weekend, otherwise I'd love to go with you," she said almost sadly.

"No problem, I'll just find someone else who wants to go." This time I couldn't even force out a smile. "Maybe we can go next time they're in town." She started to say something else but stopped herself at least twice.

"Yeah, next time for sure. Look, I've got to run, I've got a million things to do."

I got a half ass kiss for my trouble, and then she was gone.

Barb was known as someone who was easy when she was in the mood, a boyfriend stealer, and best of all; Heather hated her with a passion. She'd thrown herself at Brian on more than one occasion even while Heather was standing right there next to him. Guess who went to the ballet with me Sunday?

Barb was smart, articulate, and knew her ballet. We both dressed to the nines and had a fantastic time. I probably could have gotten lucky after taking her to dinner, but again I was the perfect gentleman. In the hallway in front of her apartment we kissed a bit, and indirectly I found out her ample breasts were real. I was invited in, and though I really could have used a little sexual relief I turned her down. Had I said yes, I don't think I ever would have made it home that night. I was so damn horny my balls weren't just blue, they were purple. Doing it with someone warm and soft to get a little relief was one thing, doing it with someone you cared about, that was something special, and that's what I wanted.