At Least They're Committed

Dutifully making my husband a breakfast smoothie of banana, berries, eggs, mixed greens and protein powder as he showers upstairs, I realize as I snap the blender to ‘off’ that someone is standing behind me in the kitchen. I don’t turn, rather reaching up for the crystal glassware to divvy up the slurry. I know why he’s here.

“Well, that last one was random. Pity the poor reader who stumbled onto it”

“Eh.” I hear the shower turn off upstairs.

“Soooo, you going to say it?”

Damn his memory. “AAAAURGH!!!! Must I?”

“You promised.”

“All right. ‘It would be unethical and deplorable if I were to not acknowledge that I . . .  was . . . off . . . base. Yes. I know. Hard to fathom, but it wasn’t right of me all those months ago to rip on Wretch and I even knew it at the time. But God, as He often does, shoved me into a situation on the bus — both me and D — where we were face to face with her and her beau and she was sweet and kind and excited to chat and I had already known I was a cad for judging her. So, I’m altering that post and will continue my quest to stop judging people because of their weight or because they smoke.’ Good ’nuff?”

He claps three times, “Ah, progress!”

Sigh. Still, that’s not why he’s here.

“Feel better? Good. Now, let’s discuss the others.”

Despite the blue skies and sunshine, the room goes dark. That’s why he’s here.

“Who THE FUCK came after you?” His voice is raised.

“I know who set me up and I know why. They did it under the guise of being ‘concerned.’” I turn and set the glasses on the counter, leaning back against the sink, facing him. My head is down but I can feel his eyes, burning. “I can just see the head-tilt. Each having their own ulterior motive, but feigning righteousness, certain the other was convinced it was the right thing, quietly applauding their subtle means of manipulation. Common tattle tactic among women. So, live and learn and shake it off and know better in the future.”

“Messssssed uuuuup. Seriously!” He puts his hand under my chin and pulls my face toward him. His eyes are gold today.

“I made myself easy prey. I . . . I played a bit,” my eyes roll to the side. He lets go of my chin. “But I promise you and myself that I will never put myself in such a position again. I’m not saying I can — or even that I think I should — stop playing altogether, I’m just saying it’s not safe with the people I’m around now.” I throw my hands up. “I always give people the benefit of the doubt, ya know? I want to trust they’ll do the right thing . . . even if I’ve had warning signs. It’s like a test. No mas shall I let down my guard.”

“Not good, what they did, not good.”

“Absolute bullshit.”

“You could tell him what you know, you know. You can tell him why they set you up.”

“Heh. That’d make me just like them, wouldn’t it? No, I figure you’ll take care of it for me, right? You get to! I’m not supposed to. You get to have all the fun.”

“Sure.” He chuckles. “Soooo, on that jaded note, shall we walk?”

“Love to, seriously,” I smile broadly and shake my head. “Let’s walk.”

My husband is fed and off to work. He’s gone upstairs. I bring the dogs in from the cold and head back to bed . . .