The Backup Asset

…16

Vernon took another bite, absent-mindedly playing with his food. His wife was sharing some work story at the dinner table, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t follow what she was saying. His mind wandered a lot lately, escaping reality.

Two weeks had passed since he had met Michelle at his favorite bar, the 1700 Somewhere. He’d regretted the encounter immediately; that type of affair got people, careers, and marriages destroyed. Yet he’d gone back twice looking for her. No one had seen her since. Then he started avoiding the one bar where he felt like home, or even better. And that hurt. It felt like he’d lost his best friend somehow. A ridiculous thought, but that’s how he felt.

“Really?” His wife stood abruptly, pushing the chair back and slamming down her fork. “Have you been hearing anything I’ve said? Do I even matter to you anymore?”

“Madi,” he pleaded in a pacifying tone, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m just tired, that’s all. My mind wanders when I’m tired.”

“So how exactly am I supposed to reach you? Book a fucking appointment during business hours?”

She sometimes got irrationally angry, her bottled-up frustrations clouding her judgment and making her see everything in darker colors than they really were. Her eyes were throwing menacing glares, and her beautiful face reflected her internal anguish. Vernon braced himself for a long argument. Their fights were usually long and painful exercises in diplomacy and self-control. But he loved his wife. Deep down he desperately wanted to make her happy, yet he was doing stupid things like that Michelle encounter.

“Baby, you can talk to me now, I promise I’ll pay attention.” He pushed his plate away and focused on her. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“You’re what’s on my mind, Vern. You. You bring your work home a lot, and not in a good way. You’re down all the time, depressed, sour. Living with you is like driving through this endless dark tunnel. I want to feel alive. Is that too much to ask?”

“No… It’s just that I’m stressed out with work, baby, I can’t shake it off.”

“Well, you better figure out a way, Vern. You have a permanent frown on your forehead. I don’t even exist anymore; you don’t even see me. You come home stinking of some bar or another, and you don’t even make eye contact with me.”

“Oh, come on, can’t be that bad,” he attempted, aware that he was starting to get angry too.

“Can’t be that bad, huh? When’s the last time we went out? Did you even notice it’s been months? What’s happening to you, to us? We deserve to have some fun, to live a little.”

“It’s just the work, baby, nothing more, I swear.”

“Go easy with the swearing. Don’t think I don’t smell the stink of bar whores on you. I let it slide a couple of times, thinking it’s a phase and you’ll come out of it, but I don’t know anymore. I don’t know you anymore.”

He felt a wave of anger rise, triggered by guilt and shame. She didn’t deserve this… Yet he was pushed to the limit, backed against the wall.

“So I’m to blame for trying to make a living? Is that what you’re saying?” He stood and started to pace the room. My work is not that easy. It’s stressing me out. What am I supposed to do?

“Leave your work in the goddamn office, that’s what I do. I work, too, but I don’t get drunk every other day to forget about it.”

“Madi, you don’t get it. You don’t get how hard what I do is. It’s not your fault, but I can’t… I can’t extricate myself. I keep replaying things in my mind. Conversations, arguments, theories.”

“Well, you better try. You better figure it out. You’re a PhD for crying out loud. You’re smart, think of something. If I can come home with a smile on my face every day, give you a hug, treat you like you exist and live here, why can’t you? Do you think I’m not stressed out? Do you think my boss isn’t an asshole? Do you think I have it super easy at work? Everybody’s got crap going on in their lives, but some people are smart and decide to leave the crap at work. It’s a decision you need to make; it’s that simple.”

He stood by the window, looking outside at the faint city lights in the moonless night. That’s what they were, faint flickering lights in an endless pitch black night. What made it worse was that she was right.

“I wanna feel alive, Vern,” she continued, her voice turning from angry to pleading. “I want to go out with you, dance, have some fun. I want you to buy me flowers and make love to me. Do you even know how long it’s been?”

He felt another pang of anger.

“All you can think of is yourself, Madi. Jeez… it’s unbelievable,” he fired back. “It’s always about you and what you want! When’s the last time you cared about what I want?”

“How about today, when I asked you what you wanted for dinner, and I fucking fixed you precisely that! Or when I opened the door and let you come in, after drinking who knows where with who knows whom! You take it all for granted, don’t you? Well, I’m not your fucking servant!”

“But that’s not what I need… ” he said, letting his anger subside. “I couldn’t care less if you fed me tuna from the can. I need to be able to unwind at home just as I do at the bar, where no one judges me.”

“Ahh… you’re such an idiot, Vern, I just can’t believe it! Those people let you drink in peace ’cause they don’t give a fuck about you, that’s why. I care about you and I’m trying to help you. But you have to make a commitment to change. You need to bring your clipboard and start taking notes with what needs to happen to help our marriage survive. I have a whole damn list!”

“Oh, I am sure you do!” Vern yelled. “There’s no limit to your selfishness!”

He regretted the words the moment they came out. He saw Madison’s eyes open wide in dismay.

“Baby…” He reached out, trying to hold her hand.

“Don’t touch me!” She turned and started for the garage. “This is your final warning, mister, your wake-up call.”

She slammed the garage door behind her. He rushed to catch up with her.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your fucking business, not until you get your shit together.”

She started the car engine and left, screeching her tires against the pavement. Vernon stood there, speechless, unable to move, watching her brake lights disappear in the darkness. He couldn’t lose her. Oh, God, no…