A Long Night [Contest Edit]

CHAPTER 1:1

The evening was planned out to a tee.2

First, she took a long Jacuzzi bath to make her skin glow and her mood lighten. She used all his favorite scents in her body wash, lotion, and perfume. She dressed up in sexy black skinny jeans, velvet navy pumps, and a long golden-yellow sweater with thin white stripes. 3

She called in Mediterranean food and set it out on their wedding china. She had ordered a French fruit tart from his favorite bakery the night before, and hidden it in the vegetable crisper.4

She carefully arranged and decorated everything, adding touches she knew he would appreciate. She turned down the lights, lit cappuccino-scented candles, spread out the lace tablecloth his mother had hand-crocheted for them, then sat down to wait. He was due home at six. At seven, she put the food in the oven to keep it warm. At eight, she took it out so it wouldn’t stale. At nine, she wrapped it up, put it away, and went upstairs to change. 5

The whole time, she listened carefully for his car in the circular, gravel driveway under their bedroom‘s large bay window. She finally climbed in bed to wait, wearing her sexiest pajamas. Eventually, she fell asleep. Several times she woke up and rolled over, but his side of the bed remained cold and empty. She didn’t want to be a nagging wife, and always tried to stay far away from the fine line between it and caring. But now she was scared. So she called his cell phone. It went straight to voice mail. She laid down again, and a warm tear slid out of her eye and dissolved into the sheets.6

She woke up around two in the morning, vaguely aware of a car in the driveway. She sat up. The front door opened. Then she heard someone puttering around in the kitchen. The refrigerator opened. Then a chair scraped away from the table.7

Melissa crept down the stairs and peered into the dim lighting, being careful to stay in the shadows.8

Peter sat at the table, eating cold hummus and pita bread from the Styrofoam carton it had arrived in. She watched him eat for a few moments. He was so blasé. How could he not have noticed how much effort she put into this? All the evidence was still there--the lingering scent of cappuccino, the dead candles, the fancy tablecloth, the Mediterranean food, the dirty wedding china in the sink. But he didn’t seem to notice or care. She turned and walked silently back up the stairs and slid under the covers, shivering.9

Minutes later, she heard his distinct step on the stairs. She heard him undressing in the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth. Moments later, he was in bed next to her, feeling warm and smelling minty-fresh. He slid his arms around her and pulled her over to him.10

“You awake?” he whispered in her ear. She could smell a chicken kabob through the strong Colgate scent.11

“No."12

He chuckled, ignoring her annoyance. “It seems like you are.” He paused, waiting for an answering laugh or some form of acknowledgement. When he didn’t get it, he continued, “I like your PJ’s.”13

She squirmed away from him. “Peter, I’m trying to sleep.”14

She heard the crinkle of his silk pants and felt him pull away. She tried not to miss his arms. It was silent for a long time. She realized couldn‘t go to sleep without saying something; she sat up sharply. “Where were you?!”15

“Hm?” he muttered, startled out of sleep.16

She swatted his shoulder, but he barely reacted. “I waited for you for hours! I dressed up and cooked and made everything the way you like it. And you didn’t even call. What happened? Were you with someone?”17

She heard his careless, infuriating chuckle. “You didn’t cook.”18

She pushed away the sheets and stormed over to their walk-in closet, snatching random clothes off hangers and pulling them on over her skimpy pajamas.19

He sat up now. “Where are you going?” he asked, but he didn’t sound particularly worried.20

Tiny, angry tears poked at the back of her eyes. “I’m going for a drive,” she said in a low voice, grabbing keys off the nightstand.21

He leaned over and caught her wrist gently. “You’re not supposed to drive angry.”22

“You noticed I was angry? Really?” she retorted heatedly, snatching her hand out of his grasp.23

He followed her out of bed, grabbing his t-shirt off the bathroom floor, where he’d left it. “I’ll come with you.”24

“No!” she said too loudly, on the brink of erupting. “I want to be alone now!”25

He didn’t answer, just grabbed both of their coats, and followed her downstairs and out the door. Once in the driveway, he held her coat for her, silently insisting with his eyes that she put it on. She slid her arms reluctantly into the sleeves, and then started over to the driver's side of his tropical blue Corvette.26

“Melissa.”27

She frowned, but went over to the passenger’s side, where he was holding the door for her. As he closed the door and walked around to the other side, she wondered who her husband was. Did he really love her? And if so, why did it only show sometimes? The times when she was ready to leave him. Even if only for a few hours, to clear her mind. Maybe he didn’t love her, just the idea of her. She was gorgeous and successful. A dancer. Above and beyond the callings of the average trophy wife. They made a good couple. And image was very important to Peter. It made perfect sense.28

The opposite door opened and Peter slid into the driver's side, glancing over at his wife’s face as he stuck the key in the ignition. “You okay?” he asked.29

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Peter, I know you are not that dense. Of course I’m not okay. I don’t even want to be here.”30

“I thought you wanted to go for a drive,” he said, playing the clueless card.31

“Not with you,” was all she said, but the comment hit its mark.32

He didn’t answer, but pulled speedily out of the driveway, flooring the accelerator. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. She was aware of a bad feeling swirling in her stomach. She turned to face her husband. 33

“Peter.”34

“Yeah?”35

“Do you love me?”36

His foot shifted from the gas to the brake reflexively. The car slowed, a horn beeped, and a pair of headlights swerved around them, still beeping. Peter swore at the passing car, then slowed even more, pulling into the shoulder lane. He looked at Melissa.37

“Are you serious or are you playing some dumb game with me?”38

She stared at him for a moment, wisely keeping her jaw clenched shut. How dare he even ask her that? She never played games. It was a trait that she had always hated and he knew that. She had just put herself in a completely vulnerable position and not only did he not answer her question, but he accused her of being a foolish manipulator.39

He seemed to realize that he had made things worse somehow. He started to touch her cheek but she jerked her head away, bumping it hard on the window. Again, the angry tears stabbed at the back of her eyes but she refused to let them surface.40

“Of course I love you,” he said softly. He waited for some sort of response. All he got was a shrug. He frowned. “Do you love me?” he asked.41

“You shouldn’t ask me that right now.” They sat in silence, both very aware of the lack of noise and movement. Finally she spoke again, “Honestly, Peter, how could you doubt that after all the effort I put into tonight? Or, more accurately, last night.”42

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”43

She shrugged again. “Whatever.”44

He waited to see if anything was forthcoming, particularly an, “It’s okay.” But none was, so he restarted the engine and took them back home.45

He had thought when he’d set out that night, that it would be easy to make things better. And when he realized it wasn’t, he wondered if there wasn’t more to the problem than him missing a special dinner.46

As Melissa climbed the stairs in their home once again, she knew there was more to the problem than him missing dinner. And it all started with the Clearblue test in the waste-basket in their bathroom. She had left it there deliberately, so he would see it, in the off chance that dinner didn’t go as planned. It didn’t and he didn’t.47

And she had no interest in telling him anytime soon.48

CHAPTER 2:49

Melissa had never been good with late nights, not even in college. But in the morning, she made herself get up early so as to avoid him, and get to work without delay. Peter was a sound sleeper and she was fairly certain he wouldn’t notice her leave the bed, or hear the shower turn on.50

She dressed quickly, stepping into a pair of smart, black pants and a pomegranate red button-down top that showed off her flat stomach. ‘Not flat for long,’ she thought with mixed feelings as she stared at her reflection. 51

She abruptly looked away, grabbing her big metallic bag and heading downstairs to leave. She resolved to get her morning coffee elsewhere, so as to further avoid seeing Peter.