Kzine Issue 14 by Graeme Hurry et al

Author:Graeme Hurry et al. [al., Graeme Hurry et]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kimota Publishing
Published: 2016-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

THIS NARROW ESCAPE

by Betty Rocksteady

I pretended to sleep for as long as I could, but my husband was persistent. He pushed against me and murmured in my ear, “Come on.” Work was only hours away, but he would not be sated by reason. I would never get back to sleep if I refused him, I would be up for hours, worried about his feelings being hurt. I turned to him. He pushed his mouth against mine, rough and mean, and pulled me on top of him.

He felt different. Luke was a large man, but his body felt angular beneath mine. My thighs looked thick as tree trunks on either side of his hips. When I settled on to him, my legs fell awkwardly from the sides of the mattress and splayed across the floor. As I moved my body, my head brushed against the ceiling.

Afterwards he was snoring in moments, but I lay awake, disturbed.

* * *

Luke waited for breakfast, his face buried in the newspaper. He ignored me while I rushed around, manic in my attempt to cook and get ready at the same time. The day outside was cloudy and gray. I wished it were warm enough to open a window. The kitchen felt stale. Faded yellow walls loomed closer than they had before.

I handed Luke his bacon and eggs and sat down with my own. I had to balance myself carefully on my chair, the sides of my slender hips spilling over the seat. He put his newspaper aside to dig in, and I noticed again how much smaller he seemed. His shoulders had once rivalled that of a linebacker but now they were diminutive, almost feminine.

The windowsill, usually a comfortable distance away, pressed painfully into my side. I ate slowly, my elbow banging into the wall with each movement. “Are you losing weight?” I blurted out. My real thoughts were too insane.

He barely glanced up at me and rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so. Maybe you’re gaining some.”

I didn’t speak again through breakfast. I was hurt, and it was too much effort to talk to him in the morning.

* * *

Work passed in a pleasant blur. Weekdays always went by so fast. I was caught up in conversation with some of the girls in the office, and ended up leaving a bit late. Luke would not be happy. He didn’t like that I worked at all, but financially it had become necessary. I dreaded the day he got a raise and decided I didn’t need to work anymore. Then I would have to be my husband’s substitute mother again, keeping the house in order according to his ever-changing preferences.

My mood worsened again when I saw the cars wedged in our driveway. Company, and I hadn’t been there to greet them. Luke wouldn’t be pleased at all.

My living room was packed with men who looked like Luke; dark suits poorly cut, hair parted to the left, the same half smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. I squeezed through the doorway.

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