“You make us turn it off,” I say.
She shrugs. “Well, I like them now. So, shouldn’t you guys be happy?”
This unpredictable Rya has got me confused all over again. I’m glad she’s listening to them. It’s something we can finally listen to together. With everything going on with her and her changes, maybe she’s going through a quarter-life crisis.
Rya has always been the type of person you could read like an open book. Lately, she’s been hard to read. I know she’s keeping losing her job bottled up from me. All I know is that something feels off, whether that be her job, her envy, or something else, and I can’t shake the feeling.
After a long day at the lake, I sit on my bed with the fan swirling above my head, trying to cool down. I stripped my swimsuit off and wanted to lie naked, to cool down my body from being out all day in the sun. I’m waiting for Zay to get out of the shower so I can get in after.
Then I think, why am I lying on the bed naked while my husband is in the shower naked? I slide off the bed and slowly open the door to the bathroom. He’s turned away from me, so he doesn’t see me coming in. Steam clings to the glass doors as I walk in. I reach for the door and slowly slide in, making sure I don’t slip on the water.
I’m now standing behind him and he still doesn’t notice I’m here. The suds from his soap glide down his body as he works himself with the loofah. I reach up and wrap my hand around his midsection.
He jolts forward from my sudden touch and quickly pivots his body all the way around. My grin widens as I look over his naked body, but once my eyes reach his face, my grin falls. His jaw is clenched, and his brows are furrowed.
I tilt my head in confusion. “What?” I ask.
“Why would you do that?”
My brows furrow at his question. He stares at me with red cheeks. I’m not sure if the redness is from his anger or from sitting out in the sun all day. “Do what?”
“Come in here like that?” he says and takes a step back as if I’m overstepping my ground.
Am I overstepping?
“I’ve done this before, and you’ve never had a problem with it.”
“Yeah, well, you scared me,” he says and steps past me, swiping my shoulder, and hangs his loofah on the knob of the water valve. I step further away from him to give him more space. It’s obvious he didn’t want me to come in.
But why?
I stand here with a familiar heavy sting of rejection, heavier than I’ve ever felt. Ever expected. I feel so exposed and unwanted. Confusion swirls in my mind with the ache in my stomach.
Have I done something wrong?
Is he tired?
Or is it something more?
Why do I keep trying when all he does is turn me down?
A coldness rushes through my body as I stand here facing my husband’s back as he continues to wash his hair. I feel so out of place, but I’m frozen in shock.
The last time this happened, he said he was stressed when I questioned him. But everything seems to be good with him at work. He has said nothing otherwise.
The last time I questioned him about it, it became a bigger deal. So instead, I slip out, grab the towel off the rack, and wrap myself in it. Once the door shuts behind me as I step out of the bathroom, tears drop from my eyes. I wipe them away and push the hurt aside. We’ve been doing so good, and we had a goodday. I’m not going to let this ruin it. I lay down on the bed again and wait for him to finish showering.
Even though I told myself I wouldn’t dwell on what happened last night, I couldn’t help but think about it the next day. I started thinking of other ways that I could switch our sex up. Maybe he’s sick of being the one who comes up with new things to try. It’s common for marriages to get into a rut after being together for so long. Zay brought it up before.
After running my morning drop-offs, I decide to stop by Zay’s work. He should be at lunch right now; if I hurry, I can get to him before he leaves to eat somewhere.
I’ve always tried to pack him lunch from leftovers from the dinner the night before. Mainly to save us money, but it’s also healthier. Sometimes he takes it; sometimes he doesn’t. When he takes it, I don’t know if he even eats it. I’m sure him going to the gym every day and moving around as much as he does at work saves him from his diet. And his age. Because his diet isn’t the best. The meals I cook us for dinner don’t overcompensate for what he eats aside from that.
I pull into the shop and see his truck parked in the corner. I drive up next to his truck and park.
Before I can walk up to the shop, he’s already walking toward me with his eyes narrowed at me in question. “What are you doing?” he asks.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t leave. Now that I’m here, I’m too shy to say what I wanted to say tohim. Which is weird because I usually don’t care. But this feels different.
