Swim, Butterfly Ch. 19

Give Everything Away

June and Rudy squabble and beat on each other for much of the ride home. Too much candy, maybe? I even pull over once to put them straight, threatening to throw their shells and Legos into the woods. They look at me with big, doleful eyes and nod their heads.

Bare, gray trees of route 47 blur together once I get back up to speed and merge between whizzing cars back onto the highway. My shaking hands grip the steering wheel as the heavens open up and rain thrums the windshield.

I sigh, grateful that the kids are quiet for a moment. The windshield wipers slap time as I hum Leavin' on Your Mind, and my mind wanders to motives. Is there some chance that Jimmy's playing a sick game of prying apart marriages, just for fun? His current client is going through a divorce, and he didn't totally encourage me to stay with Pete. I've daydreamed of being single again, but never pondered it for real. Maybe it's coincidence, or did the married women who end up in his arms have cheatin' on their minds already? Did I? How long ago had I really left my marriage? Was I ever really married, anyway?No.

I shouldn't think that. Settle for maybe. Seemed like a good idea at the time. My fingertip grazes the smooth butterfly at my throat, Jesus, what should I do? Split my life somehow, or double-up on it? Stay, go, confess, keep quiet?

I don't know, Pete and I still make a pretty good team.

***

I pull into the driveway just as the sun breaks through the clouds and my backside feels like wood. The kids eject from the car so they can quit ruining the first half of my afternoon and ruin the second half of Pete's. I wrap a scarf high around my neck to hide the necklace, then wrest the bags and bundles out of the car and through the front door. I drop the bags on the floor with a thud as Pete descends the bedroom stairs.

"Hey, need any help?" Pete asks, stretching and yawning.

"No, I'll take my time unpacking." I look Pete in the eye, but my eyes twitch and I must look away. I hear June screaming at Rudy, hear their feet running, thumping across the ground in the front yard. Rudy chases June with a stick.

"How was your trip?" Pete asks.

I shrug, "Oh, nice. How was your peace and quiet?" I ask, shoving my overnight bag aside with my foot. Damp, rumpled clothes...

"It was okay. Got to relax. A little too quiet, though. I missed you." Pete replies.

"Sweet, but why? Is the sink full of dirty dishes?" I give him a quick kiss on the lips, hoping he'll go away now. His breath smells stale and stinky. I hope there's no scent of Jimmy on me, but even if there was, would Pete notice? Oh, the careless slips--which one will give everything away?

"I don't know. Come and sit with me for a minute. Talk to me?" Pete implores.

My head turned away, I roll my eyes, "Sure." I look one more time out the window; the kids are calm now, collecting pine cones or rocks.

"I haven't seen you all weekend. How was your trip?" Pete repeats, sitting on the couch. He's unusually friendly. He must want something. I move to sit in the chair by the window, but he waves me over. "Come here, sit next to me. Don't you want to sit by your husband?"

No. "Sorry, I'm a little wound up from the drive. The kids were terrible." I acquiesce and sit next to him, focusing on the space between his eyes when I have to look at him. Maybe he really did feel lonely. So spend more time with us where we're here, duh...

"Really? Why?" Pete asks.

"I don't know. Must have got sand up their backsides." I shake my head, folding and unfolding my hands in my lap. I'm still sore between my legs.

"Whatcha' do all weekend?" he asks, yet again.

I look away, "Well, like I told you yesterday, we visited the beach a couple of times, blew a wad of your money downtown, swam a few times," I squirm a micrometer away from Pete, who's got his arm around me, pulling me closer to him.

"Yeah? Not too much money, I hope. Nothing but garbage there. Oh, and don't forget we're meeting my folks at the diner Saturday, nine am."

"Yup, how could I forget? Anyways, June and Rudy got to watch cartoons last night. That was their favorite, although June really liked the pool. Oh, and most of all, the shells on the beach and all the sea life..."

"Oh, yeah?" he nuzzles my neck. My stomach turns. "Mm, what was your favorite part of the weekend--coming home?"

With the 'f' infavorite, a puff of his stinky breath makes its way from my ear, through my hair, to my nostrils. He takes my hand and leads me upstairs to the bedroom. He has trouble unwrapping the scarf from my neck and says nothing about the necklace. I head off the perfunctory connubial act with a blow job, claiming a yeast infection. After recuperating, he launches into a description of what happened at home during the whopping thirty hours I was gone. Gee, can't wait to catch up. He shares with me some bullshit he read on the Internet, but at least he's trying to communicate.

I think about bringing up June's fascination with the shells, hoping that he takes a hint, but I decide, fuck it. I let him ramble while I gaze through the curtains, imagining a dark, blustery beach.