A Wife's Fall Pt. 04

"You listen here, and you listen well, brother of mine." My eyebrow twitched at that. She knew I disliked it when she used that phrase. "I will do what I want in the room I'm in. If I want to suck my husband's cock I'm going to suck that dick! If I want to ride Griffin around the room, I'll ride it so well I'll scream out yeehaw! If that upsets you, then too fucking bad! Get the fuck over it! It was my home too, you know!"

"Was being the optimal word there. As I recall, Dad and Mom gave you first dibs on buying the place, but you were so 'in your zone' as you call it up north that you passed on it. So it isn't your home anymore; it's mine."

"Too fucking bad! It's going to happen, and it's going to be fucking loud!" Muting the conversation, there was no point in continuing it. Knowing my sister, she was only getting started, and I had no inkling to be drawn into a childish fight.

Returning to the butcher, continuing where we had left off before I was interrupted. Nodding when he told me the same thing she had told me when I facetimed her when I sat in my car in the parking lot. I thanked her and apologized for the call so early in the morning. She was very happy that I called; I normally do once a month, not that my wife knows about it. No one, actually. She was like another mother to me, and she took to me like I was her son. She also sent me an email of the ingredients I would need to make it. The main one was the five-spice mixture that was used as the dry rub. I just didn't know if I could pull the skin away from the duck without tearing it. Which I was thankful that I didn't have to do given how the man offered to do it for me, given his experience with handling meat. Watching how he trimmed up the bird, discarding the excess fat, giving me some tips on how to make my own duck sauce or gravy with the drippings that were bound to happen given the fatty nature of duck. Thanking the man for sharing his wisdom with me once the bird and another steak for the other house crasher were paid for. I wondered if I should make a stir-fry or just go with good ol' sticky rice as a side dish as I walked around getting the items I needed. Sighing when my phone rang once again, however, it wasn't who I thought it was. Ignoring the text icon on my phone at the number of texts that awaited me.

"Hello, Betty," I greeted when I answered.

"Hey, baby. What are you doing?"

"Shopping."

"Oh?! Did you get the duck?" I heard the uptick in the cadence of her voice.

"I did."

"How big is it?"

"Big enough to feed the unwanted visitors that are squatting in my house."

"I heard. I also heard you aren't answering your sister's texts."

"Am I supposed to?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"No, I suppose you don't have to, but she's worried that you've blocked her, you haven't, have you?"

"No," I answered plainly.

"Okay, so how's the shopping going?"

"Oh, should be done here in a few minutes. What would you think of a snow pea and bean sprout salad to go with it?" I asked as my eyes ran along the fresh vegetables before me.

"Sounds yucky." I felt the corner of my lips lift when Betty said that.

"Okay then, no salad. What about a stir-fry or sticky rice as a side?"

"You know I can't say no to your stir-fry."

"Stir-fry it is then," I nodded. Whether the two moochers ate the meal or not, I couldn't care less. I was doing this for Betty, not them. My eyes glanced at the bell peppers, cauliflower, and oyster mushrooms, knowing those would make a good addition to the meal.

"Wane?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for doing this; it means a lot to me." I heard that sweet, soft voice of hers when she got all lovey-dovey on me. I'll admit I like it, but only when Betty does it. "I know if it's anything like what else you've made throughout the years, it will taste so good!"

"Glad you think so," I replied, adding a red and yellow bell pepper to my basket and a head of cauliflower. I was about to grab the oyster mushrooms, contemplating if I killed her husband, would I finally get her out of my house. Sighing in my mind, knowing I couldn't do that no matter how I would enjoy watching Griffin flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water. So seeing how the mushrooms were out, I opted for a small package of baby corn. Then getting two spring onions, an apple, and two bread buns for the stuffing.

"Well, I'll let you finish shopping. I just wanted to call and hear your voice." I arched an eyebrow at that. Sometimes women confuse me; then again, I think that's with all males regardless if they are emotionally stunted, like I am. "You better let me know how the duck is when I get home. I can't wait to eat it! So what is my dashing, culinarily gifted, handsome husband going to make for his wife tonight?"

"Thinking steak and baked potatoes," I answered as I walked down the spice aisle. Plucking a jar of five-spice from the shelf and placing it with the others. Then walking two aisles over, and getting a jar of hoisin sauce and a bottle of light and dark soy sauce, given how I was out of both.

"Sounds good, honey, well, I'll let you go. I'll see you when I get home and try not to kill your sister."

"I make no promises." Hearing my wife's soft chuckle over the line.

"I love you, Wane."

"I know."

"Wane, can you say it, just once?" Can I say that phrase when I honestly don't understand the emotion? Well, I knew, or read about it anyway, that many men and women have said that phrase and not really meant it. But I don't think that applies to me since, obviously, I do care for her, which is odd to me given what I am. Now whether or not I'm in love with my wife, that is another matter altogether. I'm going to need time to ponder on that.

"I love you too, Betty." The words left my lips for the second time in my life. I've never even said that to my parents. Don't get me wrong, they are very good parents, they were given a child they had no idea how to cope with in a time where mental disorders weren't looked on as an affliction, but more as a stigma, or at least that's what I perceived in my childhood. It was why I learned how to hide what I am from the world and make the people around me believe I was just like them. When in reality, I couldn't care less what they think or feel. However, I do have to move about in the world, so play make-believe I must. "Betty?" I spoke when the line was silent for a few minutes.

"Mmm... sorry, I was just replaying it in my mind. It sounded so good when you said it."

"I see."

"It's okay Wane, I know you can't understand. But just know that hearing it made my heart flutter because I got to hear you say it. I know you do, but hearing it once in a while can be a good thing."

"I'll take your word for it."

"I promise it's a good thing." I could picture her nodding when she said that. "I'll be home at five."

"Okay, I'll see you when you get home."

With everything that I didn't have at the house paid for and stored in the trunk of my car, I headed home. Where I hoped they would just rent a hotel room, they're doctor's they could afford it. However, knowing my luck, if that was an actual thing, I'd be stuck with them for the foreseeable future.

******

~~~Maggie~~~

I heard Wane talking in Chinese or Jin, as he called it from the kitchen as Griffin and I entered my former childhood home. Telling my husband where he could store his things while I went to confront my brother. I stopped in my tracks as Wane stood with his back to me while he stood over the stove, appearing to be having a conversation with himself. Until I heard the sound of a woman's voice speaking in that same tongue to him. I found it strange that he talked to anyone. People with his form of illness do not typically form bonds with people. Then again, no one that I've treated was like Wane, close to a degree, but not the same. There were different degrees of psychopathy on the spectrum. While Wane wasn't at one extreme or the other, he did have quite a few traits that made him earn that title. Given his lack of empathy last night, and I suspect lying as well. If I had to label my brother on that scale, he would be an adaptive psychopath with traits of a primary psychopath given his job and how well he could manipulate the people around him into thinking he was just like them. When he turned to grab the cutting board sitting on the island counter, I noted how that coldness washed over him when his eyes took sight of me.

I have no idea what he said to whomever he was speaking to. Yet, I got the feeling it wasn't in a warm light as he sat what appeared to be a 'too long and too skinny to be a chicken' something onto the cutting board. Arching an eyebrow when I saw him bow to whomever he was conversing with. Noting how he pocketed his phone while still not addressing my presence in the room.

"So, you can't be bothered to announce yourself when entering my house? This isn't some hotel where you can come and go as you please, Margaret." I'd forgotten when the last time was Wane's actually used my given name.

"This is my..."

"You would say the same damn thing if I did such at your home if I ever wish to go that far north." I felt my face burning, knowing that was true. I would be on him for walking into my house like he owned it.

"Okay, you're right, I'm sorry," I said, holding up my hands, trying to make peace with my brother.

"Uh-huh, why do I have trouble believing that." I felt my temper rising as I watched him patting the bird dry.

"Wane, I know this morning got a little heated, but you know I'm only looking out for you," I said in the best sisterly voice I could muster.

"So you say."

"So, what are you doing in here, and who were you talking to?" I asked, ignoring his remark.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I don't know, choking the chicken," I retorted, hearing my husband's chuckle from the guest bedroom, yet that got nothing out of Wane. Although I could feel his eye roll at it.

"If you must know, I'm prepping the duck," Wane said in this cold deadpan tone of his. You would think Wane would at least talk to me in something other than aloofness. I am his sister, after all! Watching how Wane inserted a wide glass into the duck's cavity before standing it up right.

"Oh?!" My excitement was clear as day; I played off that he didn't answer my second question. Watching how he poured the water out of the pot, he was using and set it in the sink before pulling out a small bowl from the cabinet behind him. "Then I think I should watch, don't you?"

"Don't care." I huffed at that tone of his. Why was it Betty got through that armor, but I couldn't? I am his sister?! At the very least, I should be able to peer through that armor, not be kept at arm's length! Watching how he carefully measured out six tablespoons of water, five-spice, soy sauce, and brown sugar before he gently mixed them together. Noting how he heated up the mixture in the microwave until it was hot.

"What are you doing now?" I asked as he brushed the mixture onto the duck's skin.

"Marinating it, did tell you it takes a lot of prep."

"So, what are we all doing in here?" I felt my body heating when the hunk of a man that I call husband joined us.

"Watching my brother's mysterious skills at Chinese cooking at work," I said, ignoring the look Wane gave me while he washed the dishes he had used once he had finished glazing the duck. I couldn't wait to get Griffin on that bed, preferably under me. "Where are you going? You can't be done?" I asked as Wane walked out of the kitchen.

"Why don't you let me worry about the duck, and you go do whatever it is you do when no one's here." I glared angrily at my brother's back as he shooed me off from over his shoulder before entering the master bedroom.

"Has he been like this since you've been here?" Griffin asked in his clinical voice. He knew, well as much as I told him, about Wane's disorder. So he knew when to tiptoe around Wane.

"Sort of," I admitted. Leaving out the fact that he wasn't like this with Betty, which I truly found odd.

"I can see why it's taking you so long. Well, seeing how Wane wants us to skedaddle, why don't we catch up on the time we lost?"

"Mmmhmm," I purred when my husband gave me that come hither look. I took one last look at the closed master bedroom door, shaking my head, "Fuck, Wane, he can stew in his shit," I thought to myself, I needed my husband right then and there.

******

~~~Betty~~~

The moment I walked into our home, I felt the arctic chill in the air. While there wasn't any arguing or shouting taking place, nevertheless, I wondered what had transpired while I was at work. I noted Maggie and Griffin sitting on the couch watching TV, yet no sign of my husband given how our bedroom was empty.

"Where's Wane?" I asked, looking at the two of them as I stood on the landing leading to our sunken living room.

"Outside manning the grill." I ignored the look Griffin gave me when Maggie answered my question. I didn't like it. I wished he wouldn't do that, but I wasn't about to bring it up at the moment. I didn't need Maggie storming off when I needed her to ensure Wane and I didn't go the way of the dodo bird. Placing my purse on the dining room table as I walked past it. Seeing the oven on, knowing that the potatoes must be cooking, I headed for the back door.

"Hello, Betty." I felt a smile forming on my lips when Wane's greeting filled my ears.

"Hello, honey," I said, walking over to where Wane was sitting as the steaks cooked. "How was your day?" I asked as I lowered myself down beside him.

"Thinking of charging a nightly rate for the moochers."

"Wane, I know having people here isn't your cup of tea, and I am sorry they're ruffling your feathers. Just please don't do something that will cause Maggie to leave," I pleaded as I rested my hand over his. I feared that if she did leave Wane and I wouldn't make it. I noticed how his jaw muscles were knotted as he rose from the patio chair, walked over to the grill, and flipped the steaks. Watching how he sprinkled the seasoning, he uses onto them. "So, how did the duck turn out?" I asked, steering the conversation away from the elephant in the room.

"It's in the fridge resting until tomorrow."

"Was it hard?" I asked curiously.

"No, just a lot of prep to get the duck ready," Wane said as he walked back over to his seat.

"I can't wait to taste it," I sighed, leaning my head on his shoulder as I listened to the steaks cooking. "How long till the potatoes are done?"

"When the steaks are."

"So twenty minutes?" I guessed.

"Somewhere around there." My eyes flickered up as Wane nodded.

"Then I have time for a quick shower?" I asked; I didn't want to spend one moment without him unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I believe so."

"Okay, then I'm going to run in; you keep an eye on my steak. I'll be mad if it went missing," I uttered in a pouting tease.

"Then Griffin will just have to starve." Leaning forward, placing a kiss on his cheek, running my fingers through his hair as I rose. Noticing how those eyes of his flickered over to my ass when I walked around the patio chair before heading back inside.

The moment I walked back out once I was finished with my shower and dressed. I noted how Wane and Griffin were staring off with one another in the kitchen when I entered it to help my husband to prepare our dinner for the night.

"Keep those eyes in your head, or I will punch you again." I was taken aback by that; I hated how Griffin leered at me. I didn't know the two of them ever got into a fight before. I knew Wane didn't like Griffin much, and I got the feeling Griffin tolerated Wane. "This time, you won't be able to lie about it."

I turned to look at Maggie; she, too, was eyeing the two of them. "Griffin, what is Wane talking about?" Maggie asked as she ambled towards the kitchen.

"Nothing, honey, you know how your brother is, seeing things that aren't there." I shot my brother-in-law a glare. My Wane does not see things! Maybe I was too hasty in defending my in-laws. Maybe Wane was right; maybe it was time for them to go.

"No, Wane is a psychopath, not delusional. What have you been doing to upset my brother?" I wondered if Maggie was about to be where I was. Marriage counseling.

"Alright, fine, so I look at her like the slut she is..." I jumped in shock as Wane's punch connected loudly in our kitchen and sent Griffin to the floor. I noticed how Maggie was shocked as well. This was so not normal for my Wane. My heart beat franticly in my chest when I noted the look in my husband's eyes when he held Griffin by the front of his shirt. It wasn't a look I was ever used to seeing in my husband, and it scared me to death!

"I warned you then, and you didn't heed my warning. I won't utter it again. Next time you won't get off with a simple punch. I would think a man as supposedly smart as you are would know not to push me."

"Wane, let Griffin go," Maggie said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Maybe you should be working on your own marriage instead of sticking your nose into mine." I heard the coldness of Wane's tone as he pushed Griffin towards his sister's feet.

"Yes, I suppose I do." I noted the hard look she was giving her husband as she stared down at him. Once again, it reminded me Maggie was indeed like her brother if the moment warrants it. "Betty, how long has this been going on?" Maggie asked when she peered over at me.

"Since Wane and I first started dating," I said truthfully.

"Then let me apologize for not nipping it in the bud then. I promise it won't happen again." I knew she said it to both Wane and me. I was hopeful, yet I could tell Wane didn't believe it as he turned to take the potatoes out of the oven. "Wane, we'll only be a few minutes, don't start dinner without us."

I saw how Maggie took Griffin by the ear and twisted it getting him to scramble to his feet so Maggie wouldn't rip it off as she led him towards the guest bedroom.

"Let me see," I cooed once I had moved up to my husband's side as he checked to ensure the potatoes were cooked through. Seeing the redness of his knuckles that had made contact with Griffin's face as I held his hand in mine. Placing a kiss on each and every one of them. Noting the confused look in Wane's eyes when I straightened up. "This is another sign that you do love me. That you would hit someone that demeans me," I said in a loving light as I brushed my thumb along those knuckles. "Not once but twice; why didn't you tell me about the first time?"

"Thought he learnt his lesson then, appears I was wrong," Wane admitted. "The only one that can call you that is me."

"And I do love hearing you say that word," I purred as I pressed my body against his chest. What can I say? I love being my husband's little slut. "Now, let me help to set the table," I said, raising to my toes and kissing my husband with a passion to show how glad I was that he did that. While he might have trouble understanding the emotion, his body, on the other hand, understood it well enough to physically confront Griffin. Quickly grabbing the bag of yeast rolls and pouring enough for dinner into a bowl and running them through the microwave just enough to heat them up once I had set the table.

"No, Betty, you sit there. I want to keep my eyes on my stupid husband," Maggie walked into the room as I was about to sit down beside Wane. I didn't think Wane was going to wait for them. "Wane, I'm sorry; if I had known Griffin was doing that, I would have agreed to the motel. You two are just now getting back on track; I don't want this idiot ruining the progress you two have made." I noted how Maggie roughly pushed Griffin into the chair I normally sat at. I watched how Wane didn't say a word as he set the plate that held the steaks and the shallow dish that held the potatoes onto the dining room table. I leaned forward, wondering which one I was going to choose. They all looked so good! I felt my mouth watering at the meal to come. I don't know how Wane chooses such good cuts of steak, but I'm not complaining, would you? Flashing him a smile when he looked at me, waiting for me to make my selection. Blowing him a kiss when he placed the one I pointed at onto my plate.