Adult Fiction: The cold shoulder

The cold shoulder.
By Ell

It was a Tuesday night; cold and late. She had tried to get to bed at a ‘decent hour’, but somehow it was after 11pm again.

“What are you doing!?” she asked. She was waiting to turn the light off.
Her husband was making noises in the kitchen.

“I’m just putting the dishes away!” he replied over the clattering.
“Jeez!” he added under his breath, exasperated.

From the bedroom ,she prickled and called out,
“Don’t speak to me like that please. I was only asking a question.” Her tone was reproving like that of a mother telling off her naughty child.

“Questions!” louder this time, from the kitchen,
“Always with the questions. ‘What are you doing?’, ‘Where are you going?’, ‘Why are you eating ice-cream?’” He used a whiney voice to mimic her.

She made no reply as she set her plump lips into a thin line of anger and narrowed her eyes.

Her husband now entered the bedroom; he removed a wet-weather coat from the closet and placed it on the hall stand outside the bedroom door.

All the while, she was glaring at the ceiling.
He took no notice of her.

In the silence, their old moggy, Abby, coughed and hacked in her basket beside the bed.

Her husband sat on the bed, with his back to her while he set his alarm clock. He then lay down and covered himself with the blankets. Although he was obviously cold (he was shivering), and she was toasty, (having been in the bed for some 15 minutes beforehand with the hot water bottle at her feet) he chose to lay over the far side of the bed with his back to her.

As she snapped the lamp off, her anger subsided and was replaced by rejection and hurt.
His ‘cold shoulder’ wounded her more than his spiteful tone.

“Goodnight” he gruffed over his shoulder.

She was not impressed and replied non-verbally in the affirmative, drawing out the first syllable to show her disapproval, “Mmmmmm-hmm.”

She had expected him to snuggle up to her, the harsh tones forgotten; she was outraged that he continued this negative mood.

Still lying on her back, in a semi-receptive body position, she thought to herself in the darkness,
‘He’ll say something soon about tea tomorrow night or ask me to wash his work clothes. He’ll not be able to get warm and will back up to me and reach for my hand under the blankets and everything will be forgotten, like usual.’

Her thoughts were broken by his loud snoring.

A fresh wave of indignation washed over her ‘How rude! How uncalled for!’

She had the acute desire to kick him ‘accidentally’, just to wake him up, but settled on over-rustling the blankets and rolling over to see if he stirred.
He continued to snore.

She was determined to be cross with him the next day, but equally content to forget his rude actions if he left her a charming love note- as he did from time to time- apologizing.

She fell asleep with the comforting thought that he still had one more opportunity to redeem himself.

*********************************************************************

The next morning, she was surprised he hadn’t awoken her with the usual,
“I’m off now. Have a good day sweetie/honey/beautiful”
‘I must have slept heavily’ she comforted herself.

She wandered, bleary eyed, into the kitchen, expecting to find the apologetic note.

And there it was! On the kitchen table; a small, white piece of paper that was definitely not there the night before and the chair turned outward as if he’d sat at that very spot to write it!

She went back tot the bedroom to get her glassed from the bedside table, so as to better read his heartfelt words.

She picked up the unfolded piece of paper which contained his tight, printed handwriting she knew so well. She smiled smugly.

With a mixture of satisfaction and adoration for her husband, she put on her glasses to read the note in her hand….

“I have taken out rissoles for dinner.
I will be home at 5pm.
My work clothes need to be washed. -D”