I Married The Wrong Person(2)

By: Tiffany Taylor



“I was hoping to spend a little time with you last night but you came home so late.” I walked towards him and leaned up against his back and made little swirls as if I was writing something while playing with the towel that was wrapped around his waist. “I was feeling kind of lonely, and this morning, I thought we could make it up by at least taking a shower together.”

“Honey, please stop that. I’m in a terrible rush.” He turned around so that he could get me off his back. “I’m sorry about last night. My meeting ran extremely late. I have this big case at work and it’s been having me stressed with the long nights and countless meetings.” Even after explaining, he still didn’t mention I was standing there naked. I wanted him to notice. That would be enough for any man to lose his train of thought. But not Marlon.

“Can you at least fit me in to your schedule?” I asked, throwing up my hands and with that same disappointing look on my face again.

“Yes, I can,” he said it as if he was only trying to shut me up.

I walked out the bathroom with a sigh and grabbed my black robe that matched the gown that was now lying on the bathroom floor. I looked at him and thought for a second, why should I have to schedule time with my own husband? “Marlon, I’m serious. I’m feeling a little lonely.”

He walked out the bathroom and into our big walk in-closet that sat to the right of his side of the bed. “How about dinner tonight?” he asked, while picking out a shirt to go with the suit he had already laid across the top of the chair that sat next to the closet door. “Once I’m done debriefing my last client, I have some free time, so we can have a nice dinner here at home.” He walked out the closet looking down at his shirt and turned back to me and said, “This is a little wrinkled.” Then he handed me his shirt to iron and kissed me on the forehead.

“Did you forget tonight was my ladies’ night?” I asked, reaching for the shirt but not really wanting to iron it.

“I guess I did forget. Well, instead of me coming home early, I guess I’ll be working late.” He grabbed the matching tie off his hook very hard, as if he was angry. He hated when I mentioned the book club or my friends.

“Oh Marlon!” I said, throwing him back his shirt. I yelled while walking out of the room into the kitchen, “You iron your own shirt!”

He looked down at the shirt that hit the floor with disbelief. “I guess I’ll have to wear a shirt that doesn’t need to be ironed. I’m running late anyway,” he said to himself without picking it up and then reached for his Rolex off the jewelry isle that sits in the middle of the closet floor.

After getting fully dressed, Marlon walked in the kitchen to grab a glass of juice before rushing out the door. He noticed me sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in my hand and a pouting mouth. He knew he had to say something.

“Look Trey, I’m sorry, but you know how I am about my work. I don’t want you to get mad all the time about me working. Don’t you like having nice things? Look at all those clothes and jewelry you have in that room in there. You have everything. Except a house.” He looked around with a disgusted look on his face.

“This is my grandparents place and it’s not that bad.” I put the cup down and decided to listen to what he had to say.

“After we fixed it to fit us.” He grabbed the open black wooden chair and sat down next to me at the glass eat-in kitchen table. “After the remodeling of this kitchen, the bedroom, and fireplace we had put in, it’s not bad for someone else. But we should be living in a big house in the suburbs somewhere. Some place with a fence and a pool. A two car garage, both a living room and a family room and even a basement. A place where they have block club meetings with nosey neighbors. Well, with your friends, we do have the nosey neighbors.”

I let him speak and tried to take into consideration the reason why he worked so much. But the fact still remained on why I wanted to live in this apartment in the first place. “Marlon, I told you I wanted to be close to my grandparents. I need to be close. They’re up in age and they need us around. What if something was to happen to them or the store downstairs? The city is not so bad. You work here in the city. In the Suburbs, it would take you longer to get to work and that means longer to get home, which is more time away from your family.”

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