Third Try's a Charm

"Honestly, I haven't said a thing about her weight. It's hard at times when I see her piling the food on her plate. I learned the hard way last time to keep my mouth shut and let her do her own thing. I even told her I was going to go on a diet with her to make it easier planning meals."

Over the next two months I lost five pounds and Shannon found them on her ass. I know that's a cruel thing to say, but those forty pounds soon became fifty-five pounds. Still it was hard, but I kept my mouth shut.

Things got worse when we took the kids, in their strollers, to the trail one Sunday morning. It was a beautiful day and the trail was packed. People were biking, in-line skating, and running around us as we pushed the kids. We were not running, rather walking at a fairly slow pace. The short trail was a two-mile loop and I thought Shannon was going to die. By the time we finished the loop her clothes were soaked with sweat, her face beet red. This was the same girl who used to run circles around me.

She practically fainted when she got to the car. "Turn on the damn air, I'm dying," she said, sloshing down the first bottle of water in the car on the way home.

"I figure if we do that three times a week we can be up to the five mile loop in a month." She gave me an ugly look.

"Steve, it's going to take me a week to recover just from today," she said, wiping her face and head with a towel.

"Don't worry hon, your body will get used to it and pretty soon we'll be running with the kids." Tuesday after work we went again, but after that she found one excuse after another not to go. I was starting to get concerned and more than a little frustrated. Still, I kept my mouth shut.

Thursday after work, I walked into my kitchen and got the next jolt to my system. I stopped, looked, and couldn't believe my eyes. Her beautiful long blonde hair was gone. All that was left was this cropped hairdo that looked like something a teenage boy might wear.

"Don't you just love it?" she said, shaking her head. "It will be so easy to take care of unlike what I've worn forever." She may have seen the shocked look on my face, but I was going to support her no matter what.

"Honey, I am happy with it if you are. I just didn't expect it, that's all. I'm sure I'll get use to it soon."

"Steve, it's just hair, and you weren't the one that had to take care of it." She was right—it was her hair—so I didn't say another thing and kept my mouth shut yet again. It just seemed to me that piece-by-piece I was losing the girl I married.

The final insult came one Sunday at a dinner with her parents. Her dad and I were sitting on their back deck sharing a brew and a few off color jokes I'd heard at work. When we heard us being summoned for dinner we knew better than to make them wait. I walked into the kitchen in front of her dad, and what I saw took my breath away. Shannon and her mom were both leaning over the sink and for the life of me I couldn't tell who was who. I just about bit my tongue off, but still I kept my mouth shut. However, it was at that moment I knew I had to do something before I buried my wife like I did my mom and dad.

It probably started that Sunday. Now whenever I looked at Shannon I saw her mother. If you think that's funny, our very first argument way back when, was that I was afraid Shannon would get as fat as her mother and now she was—I was married to her mother's doppelganger.

Do you have any idea what that did for my sex drive? Who in their right mind wants to make it with their wife's mother? When she would get amorous I would have to turn off the light and think back to what she used to look like in order to get it up and keep it up. In order to perform it took a lot of imagination, fantasy, and self-determination—my sex mantra became repeating over and over in my head: I love my wife, I love my wife, I love my wife.

When I couldn't get it up one night she came right out and asked me if I still found her sexually attractive. I lied like any good husband and kissed her gently on the lips, trying my best to block out any mental picture of her new look or her mother.

I called myself a hundred ugly names and told myself I didn't deserve her, and right now I was probably right. I loved her, I really did, but I didn't see her as a hot babe anymore. More like someone else's mother, and I was sad. To Shannon I never said a word.

The only one in the world I could talk to about my feelings was my sister. For two hours I poured out my guts over three beers. Sue knew my past and my original fears going into this relationship. I was lost. I wanted her to tell me what to do.

"Steve, you're on your own on this one. I know you love Shannon and your two kids, but remember we all change as we get older."

"Sue, when I married Shannon she weighed one twenty-five soaking wet. At her last doctor's visit, she's tipping the scales at two hundred pounds. Hell, she almost died walking two miles with the kids and me. I'm just afraid if she doesn't lose that weight now, she may end up dead like Mom."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"No. I keep my mouth shut and it's about killing me. It must be some type of female taboo to talk about weight. And remember what happened the last time I tried to have that discussion with Shannon. That went well, huh?"

"Just talk to her, she's your wife, for Christ's sakes."

"Yeah. Let me again remind you of the last time I tried, and she thought I was calling her mother a fat pig. Now all I have to say is, honey you look just like your mother, isn't that wonderful, you fat ass? That would go over real big if I want my face rearranged."

"Well, as I see it, you have two choices. You can say nothing and hope she realizes that she needs to lose weight, or two, you can ride her and make both of you miserable."

"Thanks, you're making me feel so much better," I said sarcastically. But I knew I had to do something.

I went home that night to a big dinner and a double layer chocolate cake for dessert. I wasn't drunk when I got home, but proceeded to have two more beers for a little liquid courage in case I decided to bring up the subject.

I gave both kids a bath, soaking the bathroom floor in the process, before getting them into their pajamas. After a Winnie The Pooh story they were both ready for bed. I kissed them goodnight and told them their mother would be in shortly to kiss them goodnight.

I found Shannon in the kitchen having her second piece of cake.

"The kids are waiting for you to kiss them goodnight." Our eyes met over her slice of cake. Shannon knew what I wasn't going to say as she wiped off her mouth and climbed the stairs. I dumped the cake down the garbage disposal and anything else I could find in the kitchen that wasn't supposed to be there. I guess I had made my decision.

After Shannon took her shower she wanted to fool around. I was in no mood and my body backed me up—even as she did her best to get me aroused—I failed miserably.

"Are you okay? You seem to be having a problem getting it up lately. Maybe you need to get a prescription for those little blue pills so we can get back to where we used to be." I chickened out, telling her I had a lot on my mind.

"Well, I hope you get your problems solved soon, because momma needs a lot more loving than she's been getting lately." I about threw up hearing her use the word 'mamma.' That was a big part of my problem. I did not want to make love to 'mamma.' I wanted to make it with Shannon, my wife.

I spent the next week trying to figure out a way to bring up the subject of her weight without starting World War III. Her work was having their fall party Saturday evening. With the kids spending that night at her mom's Saturday, maybe I could get up enough courage to talk to her about it.

Her company sure knew how to throw a party. A fully stocked bar, and enough food to feed a poor third world country for a week is what the employees feasted on. There was a band and computer games in the house's entertainment room—who knew a house could have a special entertainment room. After the first twenty minutes, like always, I was on my own.

Drink in hand I walked the party floor keeping an eye on my wife while I mingled, a smile plastered on my face. I checked out the computer geeks, noticing they were consumed by some war game on the seventy-two inch projection television. I had never gotten into computer gaming, and right now I was thankful for that.

Outside I went looking for my wife. I found her on the dance floor with one of the biggest black men I'd ever seen. Shannon looked like a little kid in his arms—arms that were all over her. I waited patiently for the song to end. I waved at her and both of them headed my way.

"There you are." Shannon said, giving me a peck on the lips. After the introductions, she informed me that she and Jerome often worked together. That sure made my night. Shannon seemed to not notice my discomfort. "Did you get something to eat yet?" she asked.

"Not that hungry. I'll grab something before we leave."

"Have either of you tried the ribs? You've got to try them, they're fucking out of this world," her friend said, smiling.

"I'd love to, but I'm kind of watching my weight," Shannon replied, looking at me.

"Hell, girl, you look great. You don't want to look like one of those skinny runway models, do you? Shit, most guys like a woman with a little extra meat on her bones. You know what they say, the softer the cushion the better the pushing."

I thought I was going to puke up my guts. I about choked as my drink came out my nose instead of going down my throat. I couldn't believe he had just said that to my wife.

Shannon's face turned a nice shade of red. "Oh Jerome, you are such a kidder."

"Baby, from where I'm standing you look mighty fine to me."

I was hot and not letting him get away with it any longer. "Look asshole, take that jive talk and shove it up your ass. This is my wife you're talking to

"Steve, Jerome didn't mean anything derogatory, it's just the way he is."

"Hey man, I'm sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean anything by it." He smiled at me again. If he wasn't so fucking big, I would have put my fist in those pearly whites, but momma didn't raise no fool.

"Shannon, get your things, we're leaving," I said, grinning back at her friend.

"Steve, I don't want to go just yet, I'm having fun and since we don't have the kids tonight we don't have to worry about being home early for a change."

"Fine. Stay with your friend if you want, but I'm leaving." I put my drink down on the table and turned towards the front door. All right, I was bluffing. I waited 15 seconds for Shannon to run up behind me and stop me, only that didn't happen. Finally, I left. I was almost to my car when my cell phone started to ring.

"What?" was my sharp reply.

"You're really going to leave me here?"

"Hey, I told you I wanted to leave, but I guess you like your FRIEND'S company more than you do your own husband's. Have fun!" With that I hit the End Call button on my phone, got in my car, and headed back home.

I must have smacked that damn steering wheel a dozen times, kicking myself for not going back and dragging my wife out by her short blonde hair if necessary. If that asshole Jerome was saying that to her while I was standing there, I can only imagine what he was saying to her when I wasn't around. I was getting more pissed off by the minute.

I was home, in the house, by eight thirty. I looked at my phone, no messages. "Bitch," I said under my breath.

Was I surprised when Shannon didn't get home until almost one thirty? Yes! And when she came storming through the door guns blazing yelling at me that I'd embarrassed her in front of everyone she worked with, I just looked at her dumbfounded.

"By the way, how did you get home tonight?"

"Jerome gave me a ride," was her acetic reply.

"Figures. He must have taken the scenic route because the party ended—what—two hours ago?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, maybe because he was all over you tonight, not to mention the way he talked to you, it's like what you'd say to some tramp."

"That's just the way he is! He thinks he's some kind of macho stud."

"Well, I don't fucking like him or the way he talks to you," I shot back at her.

"Well yourself, you don't have to like him or work with him, but I do. And since you screwed up our night out, I'm going to bed—alone!"

"Be still my heart. I wouldn't want to sleep next to you anyway, with Jerome's slobber all over you."

"Bastard," was all she said, running up the stairs slamming the bedroom door behind her."

"Don't forget to take a shower before you go to bed, or I'll have to change the sheets tomorrow," I screamed up the stairs to her. Thankfully I never heard the reply.

The couch in the den was short and uncomfortable, but it was a lot better than braving the lioness in our bedroom. I didn't like the way Jerome looked at, talked to, or danced with my wife. It didn't matter if he was her boss or the CEO of the company she worked for. I wanted him to stay the fuck away from her. I trusted him as far as I could throw him, and that was all of probably three inches.

Shannon was still sleeping when I crept into our bedroom to get my running shoes and something to wear the following morning. She was either sleeping or doing a good job of faking it. Whatever, I really didn't care at that point.

I arrived at the trail later than normal and it was crowded with all sorts of people. I hooked up with a mixed group on my second loop, and had a pleasant time running with them. We did a total of fifteen miles before I wished them well. We all took off in different directions. I thought about stopping for coffee and maybe bring home one for Shannon, but I started getting angry all over again and thought, fuck it.

"It's about time you got home," was the lovely greeting I received when I walked through the kitchen door. "You know we have to pick up the kids at Mom's before noon."

"So? It's only eleven o'clock. Give me twenty minutes and we will be out of here."

"Whatever," was her flip reply.

"Fine, go get the kids yourself, just don't forget to tell your mother what an asshole I am for ruining your weekend. And, know what? I don't fucking care." I walked up the stairs towards our bedroom leaving a steaming Shannon to stew. When I reached the top of the stairs, I turned and shouted down to her. "Oh, by the way, please tell Jerome if I catch him touching you again, I'm going to take a bat to his pearly whites!" That declaration was culminated by me slamming the bedroom door.

I was in the shower when the curtain was yanked back suddenly.

"What are you trying to say? Are you accusing me of doing something last night?"

"Think about it from my perspective, Shannon. The asshole's hands are all over you on the dance floor, he makes sexual innuendos, and he's drooling over your hot curvy body most of the night. Then when you finally decide to come home you arrive in his car a couple of hours after the party ended. What am I supposed to think?"

"We didn't do anything! We just drove around and talked."

"About what an asshole I am, or just about the two of you?"

"You think I slept with him last night?"

"Did you?"

"You're right, you really are an asshole, you know that?" With that she turned around and left the bathroom.

Did I think Shannon had sex with him? Not really, but I think there was more to it than just talking. This became the first crack of many in our relationship.

Over the next week I almost turned on the heat in the house, it got so frosty. But there was no way I was being kicked out of my damn bedroom. If she was pissed, she could sleep on the fucking couch. So we slept in the same bed together—but alone. She made damn sure there was no talking, much less any unnecessary touching.

We were in our second full week of not talking when Shannon sent me a text letting me know she had a business dinner to go to that night. I was getting really tired of it and sent her an ugly one back.

"You plan on coming home tonight, or should I lock up when I go to bed?" I didn't get a reply back.

The kids were down for the count, I had my clothes all laid out for the following morning, and had just slipped into bed when I heard her pull into the garage. I wasn't sure which Shannon would be walking through the bedroom door. I braced myself when I heard her walk up the stairs.

She opened up the door, turned on the overhead light and started taking off her clothes right there in the doorway. One by one she stripped them off, throwing them on a pile on the bedroom floor. When she was totally naked she walked over to the bed, stepped up on it, and walked over to my side. With a leg on each side of me she spoke for the first time.

"Check it out if you want," she said, spreading her legs even more. "You want to see if it's been used or a deposit made?"

I could see it looked as it always had, no redness, the lips weren't swollen, there was no there semen dripping down her legs.

"So, if you're satisfied, I'll take a shower and go to bed. But I'm not sorry I woke you, maybe now you'll believe I'm not whoring around on you." She walked off the bed and into the bathroom.

She was crying in the shower when I walked in clothes and all. She fought me for a moment before she let me pull her into my arms. We kissed until the hot water had gone cold.

Dripping wet we went to bed and for the first time in weeks we made love. It was slow, methodical, and felt wonderful. She didn't scream out my name, my lips never leaving hers unless it was to taste one of her treats. We fell asleep cuddling and woke up that way. Did it solve all our problems? Not a chance, but at least it got us talking again.

"I don't like him and I sure as hell don't trust that son of a bitch," were the first words out of my mouth the next morning over coffee. "I trust you, not him. The way he looks at you makes my blood curl, I want to slap that stupid smirk off his face."

"Steve, for one he could wipe the floor with you, and secondly, I'd probably lose my job, so please cool it. I can handle Jerome and anyone like him at work. You know I need this job. Right now I'm making a good name for myself and I don't need you messing with that. You best bite your tongue and let me worry about Jerome." I wasn't happy about it, but what choice did I have?

When she asked if there was anything else bothering me I probably should have kept my mouth shut—but since she was asking.

"Now that you mention it, there is something else, only I'm not sure just how to bring it up again."

"It's my weight, isn't it?" Was I that obvious? "Look, I know I've gained a few pounds, but you have two kids back to back and see how much weight you put on. It also didn't help with me being laid up for six weeks after my fall. Just don't bug me about it. It'll be gone soon. Do you think I like the way I look right now?" I smiled at her. I was going to be supportive if nothing else.

"Hon, if you want to join a gym and go after work, I'll be more than happy to watch the kids."

She was having none of my good intentions. "I'll take care of it, just don't bug me. In a couple of months it'll all be gone and then we'll never have to have this conversation again. Now if we have that settled, Marie should be here shortly, and I've got an early meeting to attend." With that she was gone.

Marie showed up at her seven o'clock time as always. I told her only low calorie meals for suppers and under no circumstances was she to buy any chips, cookies, or the like. "Mrs. Moore is on a diet and I don't want anything in the house to tempt her." I figured if she didn't have a plan, I would make one.

But my plan didn't work. Although Shannon ate good healthy meals at home she must have had a whole stash of goodies at work. Add to that, I found out much later, Jerome was taking her out to lunch three times a week. After two months she'd lost a total of five whole pounds.