Quite the opposite, actually. I don’t just want my wife with me, I need her. Even if that does make me a selfish asshole. She grounds me and is the only one I can completely let go in front of.
I type out the words I can’t hold on to anymore.
Me: I need to see you.
Reagan: Is everything okay?
Me: Things are fine, but I need to see you. I’ll fly down there if you don’t want to come here.
Reagan: It’s not that I don’t want to see you, babe. You know that, right? I’m just trying to get in some quality time with my mom.
Me: I know. But can you spare one night for me?
Reagan: Sarcastic much?
Me: Reagan. When and where? I need a night with my wife.
Reagan: Okay. Let me ask my mom what her plans are.
My dick is straining uncomfortably against my fly as I stare at the beige ceiling of the bus. I hate this feeling of not being in control. But my hand isn’t gonna cut it anymore. I need to fuck my wife.
The three dots that signify she’s writing a text appear on the screen, and I stare at them as I wait.
Reagan: Saturday night. I can fly home to Chicago. Can you swing a night at our place?
Me: Yes.
Reagan: Okay, I’ll text my itinerary so you can pick me up if possible.
My aggravation grows as I keep reading her messages, which sound the same as what she’d send to any lesser-known acquaintance. My balls look like a fucking Smurf, and she’s cool as a cucumber.
I fire off a hotheaded message.
Me: Thanks for the favor. Looking forward to seeing you too.
Reagan: What’s that supposed to mean?
Me: You could at least act like you’re excited to see me. It’s been almost two weeks.
Reagan: Of course, I’m excited to see you. We’re married, though. I didn’t think I had to say that every time I’m going to see you.
Me: What, married people don’t excite each other anymore?
Reagan: Jude, you’re being ridiculous.
Me: And you’re being indifferent.
Reagan: You’re just looking for a fight.
Me: No, I’m looking for my wife to give a shit that she hasn’t seen me in two weeks.
Reagan: You know why I needed to be here. And you’re busy with the campaign.
Me: Which I thought you wanted to be part of.
Reagan: I have been part of it. But I’ll be damned if I’ll stand there looking starry-eyed every time you speak just so photographers can take pics of me “standing by my man.”
Me: Yeah, God forbid.
