Sunday night they kicked back. The afternoon at his wife’s parents was quite routine. Bill played with Chippy, the German Shepherd, and spent most of the time in the family room with his father-in-law. They drank gin and tonic and watched football.
Bill’s mother-in-law was the sweetest woman you’d ever want to know. If her daughter had asked her to do their laundry, she would’ve done it happily. That was her nature. She served the men snacks and sat for a bit with them all, when they were all together, to chat. Mostly, Bill’s wife and mother-in-law stuck together.
Family times were good times. They were quiet, leisurely afternoons and evenings that ended with a full-family dinner in the dining room. Bill’s mother-in-law and his wife served, they all ate, the women cleaned up and did everything in the kitchen. While the clean-up happened, his wife’s brothers went about whatever they were doing. Bill and his father-in-law had a last gin and tonic in the family room.
“Have a good day?” his wife asked. They were sitting on the sofa in their living room.
“Swell,” Bill said.
“What time you have to be in in the morning?”
“Ten.”
“Busy day?”
“Not really. We have one small afternoon thing, goes off at one. Then it’s prep work for Tuesday. I don’t think there’s anything for tomorrow night.”
“What about The Falstaff Room?”
“It’s Monday. It’ll be somewhat slow.”
“Home early?”
“Hard to tell. I’m hoping. What about you?”
“Regular week. Same as always. Classes to teach, rehearsal, regular.”
They were quiet a moment. Wasn’t much more to say. Bill was thinking about how quickly the weight of responsibility for their support had been put upon him. He was thinking, in light of what had happened to him now a year and a half ago and ending about a year ago with his time in the workhouse, how his life/their lives had changed. He was thinking how important it was for him to work and make money, not just enough money to cover their expenses, but money to put away for a safety net. The more the better, he thought.
He was also thinking about work. It was better to be busy and occupied than to be idle and have to think about things. Thinking about the things in his life had never been productive, had never led him anywhere that he could consider a good place. He was happy to have a job. It most certainly was not the type of job he’d imagined or dreamed about and it was a job that took him far away from doing that which he really wanted to do in his life. But it was a job. It was turning out to be a good job, one at which he could make extra money.
Then there were the girls. All this time since last night when he’d gotten home they were out of sight and out of mind. Now, as he sat next to his wife whom he’d been close to, very close to, for the past time, they popped back into his head and he felt anxiety start to creep in. He had no taste for any of them, not now, not here, not sitting here with his wife. He hadn’t meant to mess with any of them. He hadn’t meant to mess with anyone. He had only meant to make a clean slate of it once they’d moved.
But the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
“I’m gonna take a bath,” his wife said. “Wanna join me?”
“You love your baths,” Bill said. “Really want company or just being polite?”
“If I didn’t want you with me, I wouldn’t have asked.”
Bill knew that was true. Bill knew his wife would not do anything she didn’t want to do. Well, maybe sometimes she did things for him she didn’t want to do, but she wasn’t one to compromise much. He was the one…
As he thought this he wondered about its veracity, and even though he didn’t like baths, he did want to be with her.
“Sure,” he said. “Wanna smoke a joint?” he asked.
“I’m good,” his wife said.
