Work Husband

She came downstairs ten minutes later, and I could tell she had washed her face. Her eyes were red. We didn't exchange more than a dozen words the rest of the evening.

The next night, she barely closed the door to the garage behind her before she made her jubilant proclamation in a loud voice.

"Would you like to know what Dylan said when I told him how you acted last night? He told me that I was wrong to react the way I did. He said it was obvious that you were only trying to protect me against what you perceived as a threat. It showed how much you loved me and wanted the best for me. He said the proof was that you backed off from interfering with my career. You weren't trying to clip my wings is how he put it, but you were worried about the dangers of me flying too high."

I listened but said nothing. She waited for me to respond, gave up and spoke again.

"Aren't you going to say anything? I'm angrier at you than I've ever been, and he didn't try to take advantage of it in any way. He took your side. What do you say to that?"

"I said everything I wanted to say yesterday. I've got nothing to add."

"You are really too much. Dylan may think your motives are noble, but I know better. You've blown your cover. I've always thought of you as well adjusted and centered, but this shows you can be as insecure and jealous as any man.

"Why are you making such a big thing out of this? I've never given you any reason to feel threatened. It's pathetic how fragile your ego is."


As I listened to her abuse, I was encouraged more than insulted. I felt that I had jarred her out of her complacency, and her anger would make her examine what was happening. She was too smart not to see through Dylan. I had to be patient.

She didn't talk about Dylan for a few weeks. She did tell me that Emma agreed with Dylan that she ought to forget our fight and patch things up. She half-heartedly apologized for provoking me unintentionally. I said I forgave her. She didn't bring up the threat I had made, and neither did I.

What worried me was we stopped making love. She had never before used sex to punish me or persuade me. Even when we had a big running battle about where Louise was going to college that lasted months, it never disturbed our love life. Minerva's needs were always much greater than mine. She craved sex like a junkie craved drugs, and I was always happy to feed her need.

Every time I thought of starting something, I couldn't see any way to do it, because she didn't come near me and her cool attitude gave me no opening. I didn't think she could go this long without an orgasm, so I began wondering if she was getting what she needed somewhere else.

I kept close track of her, but I never went further than that. I think I was afraid of what I'd find out if I spied on her. If this was going to be the end of us, I wasn't in a hurry to get there. I was happy that I didn't notice any change in her schedule or activities.

She liked to cook, and never stopped making dinner every night. She used to enjoy my compliments on her cooking skills, but now all I got was an abrupt thank-you. One night, she prepared dinner but got ready to go out as soon as I came home. I asked her where she was going and felt stupid when she reminded me that she had told me about the lecture by an expert on cutting techniques last week.

She didn't seem that excited about her evening with the mum nuts, but I took it as a good sign that she was going without Emma for the first time. When she came home, she looked happier than I had seen her since the big fight.

I wasn't so happy when she informed me why her mood had changed.

"You'll never guess who I ran into at the lecture."

She didn't give me a chance to guess.

"I had no idea Dylan was a mum aficionado, and he was just as surprised that I was there."

I didn't respond right away because I was stunned that she couldn't see something as obvious as this.

"I know what you're going to say, so don't bother," she continued. "I never told him about my passion for mums, and you know I haven't gone to any events since Emma left. Even though I told you about the lecture, it wasn't until I was driving home this afternoon that I decided to force myself to go. The only person who knew I was going to be there was you. Do you have an answer for that?"

"Are you sure you never mentioned your hobby?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Afterwards, we had coffee, and I found out he grows mums at home. Do you think he would try to fool me about that? Let's go to his house tomorrow and see if he's lying."

"No," I said.

The Dylan mystery had me stumped. I'm sure Minerva must have told him about her mums, because she tells everyone. But how did he show up tonight? Was he stalking her? It didn't make sense.

After that, things got better at home. We even had sex, though not nearly as often as we used to. Minerva was happy with life, and she rarely gave me withering looks anymore. It was almost like Emma was back, because she began devoting herself to her mums again and went to all the events.

It didn't make me happy that Dylan was at the lectures and competitions with her instead of Emma. Once, I let down my guard and made a remark about it, but she didn't lash out at me. It sounded as if she had been waiting for me to say something, because she immediately suggested that I accompany her.

She laughed when I declined.

"I owe Dylan a coffee. I was sure you'd want to come with me. But he told me you wouldn't, because you're coming to accept that his role in my life doesn't change your role. I guess he's right, even though I still feel hostility radiating from you when I talk about him.

"I haven't been telling you about us lately, because I can sense your resentment of him when I do. He keeps reminding me that I need to stop keeping secrets, and I know he's right.

"Anyway, the latest news about us is that it looks like we've landed Consolidated. Everything should be signed in the next two weeks, and my year-end bonus will be triple what it was last year. Dylan thinks I need to spend a chunk of it to take you on an expensive vacation in Europe next year."

I resisted an urge to remind her that we could afford to go on any vacation we wanted to, but she loves her work more than traveling. She didn't wait for me to say anything and kept talking.

"Once the deal is done, there's going to be a big party. You'll get to meet Dylan and his wife."

****************

Since it was only two weeks to Christmas, the celebration was merged with the Christmas party, and everyone in the company was invited.

Minerva surprised me when we were dressing. She put on a dress she must have bought recently. It was a skimpy, sexy red dress with green and white trim, and it showed a lot of skin. I hadn't seen her in anything that risqué in fifteen years, and I told her it looked great on her.

"You think so? Or are you just being nice? Do you think I can carry it off?"

"Absolutely!"

She seemed happy with the dress, the celebration, the party, and, dare I say it, even me. But on the drive to the hotel, she got serious for a moment.

"I have a favor to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"Would you mind if I danced one dance with Dylan? You are welcome to watch us, but what I'd really like is for you to dance with Lorena while we're dancing."

"You can dance with anyone you want to. You don't need my permission."

"I know, but I don't want there to be any unpleasantness tonight. So if you feel strongly about me not dancing with Dylan, I won't."

"Is he a good dancer?"

"I have no idea. We didn't talk about tonight, but I'm sure he's going to ask me to dance. I'll decline if you don't like the idea."

"I have no problem with you dancing with Dylan. And I'll be glad to dance with Lorena. Who is she?"

"She's Dylan's wife, and I have to warn you. From the photo I saw and what Dylan tells me, you might find her a bit strange."

Minerva didn't dance with Dylan at the party. Nobody did, although I saw a lot of women look at him. He had movie star good looks, and it was clear that he also worked out when he wasn't planting mums.

Lorena, on the other hand, had a thick, lumpy body and a puffy face. Her fat made her look much older than Dylan. She could almost have been mistaken for his mother.

When Dylan saw Minerva, he brought his wife over and introduced us, but before we could exchange more than a couple of sentences, he dragged her away to meet someone else. It was that way the whole evening. He clung to her like a tick on a dog. They moved around the room and never stayed with anyone longer than a couple of minutes.

I watched them curiously and watched Minerva watching them. She danced a few dances with me and a few with some of her colleagues, but her eyes were always on Dylan. All eyes were on her when she and a young man on her team let loose during a fast number. She almost shook herself out of her outfit, and she put on a funny, come-hither look on her face that made everyone laugh.

I noticed that all through her frenzied steps, she was glancing at Dylan, who was with Lorena not far from her. But his back was turned to her, and I didn't see him look at her once.

After her exhausting display, Minerva slowed down. When I looked at her watching Dylan, it seemed like air was slowly escaping from a flat tire.

I was gazing in the same direction as she was most of the time, but my focus was on Lorena. As she and Dylan moved around the room, I moved, too, keeping within a few feet of them while I waited.

When Minerva, Dylan and their team were called to the podium by their boss, I finally got my chance. Dylan seemed reluctant to drop Lorena's hand, but he finally went up and stood with the team, nowhere near Minerva, who turned to look at him a couple of times.

While the boss was talking, I made my way to Lorena's side as quickly as I could and asked her the question I had been rehearsing all evening.

"Are you a mum nut, too?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. I saw intelligence in her eyes, which were sunk deep inside her puffy cheeks.

"Sorry, that's what I call chrysanthemum enthusiasts. I hope you weren't offended."

"Not at all."

That's all she got a chance to say, because suddenly Dylan was by her side. He must have traveled at the speed of light to get there that fast. He excused himself and her because he wanted to introduce her to an important member of the team. She looked at me as he dragged her away.

The rest of the evening, I watched Minerva's face slowly turn from the excitement she had radiated as we entered the room into barely concealed disappointment by the time we walked out. I also watched Lorena as she and Dylan continued moving. As I did, I saw her staring at me every chance she got. Once it seemed that she was shaking her head as if signaling that she wanted me to move closer.

I wasn't sure that's what she was doing, but I decided to start stalking her again. As they moved, I kept close. Then I saw the boss walking toward them. He began talking to Dylan, and when he did, I saw Lorena use her left hand to slowly pry herself loose from Dylan's grip on her right.

He tried to prevent it, but he couldn't pull her back since he had to listen to his boss. As soon as she was free, she walked quickly away from him in an arc until she was behind him and he couldn't see her. In three more steps, she was in front of me. I smiled at her.

She leaned over and spoke softly but clearly.

"You are a perspicacious husband."

She flashed me a pained smile, and then she rushed away in the direction of the ladies room. I saw Dylan and her depart soon after she came out.

On the way home, Minerva didn't try to hide the fact that she was unhappy. I thought of saying something, but I decided to just give her hand a quick squeeze and stay quiet. As we were getting undressed for bed, she never spoke. She did hold onto me tightly as we cuddled for a few minutes before turning away. I looked at her back and wondered what she was thinking.

***********

She brooded all day Sunday and Monday morning before she left for work. Something came up just before I was going to leave my office, so she got home before me. When I walked in the door, her greeting told me she was back to her normal chirpy self. I followed the delicious smells to the kitchen, where she gave me a big hug and wet kiss. She was so happy that as she moved around, it seemed as though her feet weren't touching the ground.

I found out the reason as soon as she served the food and we sat down.

"Dylan explained what happened Saturday night," she said.

"Yeah, I wondered why he didn't dance with you or anyone. Did he have some kind of injury?"

"No, no. It was his wife. I didn't want to say anything about her, because I had never met her, but she was just like he said."

"What did he tell you?"

"Well, he doesn't talk about her much, but --"

"Because he's too busy listening to you talking about me," I interrupted.

"Please don't go there. Do you not want to hear this?"

"I want to hear, and I also have something to tell you about Dylan and his wife."

"What?"

"You first."

She looked at me quizzically for a moment before speaking.

"You saw what she looks like. Dylan told me she was a knockout when they were married. But she's let herself go and turned into a bitter woman. He thinks she has some kind of bipolar problem because when she's with their kids, she's positive and energetic. But the minute they are not around, she becomes what you saw Saturday night, a depressed, overweight woman whom people are embarrassed to look at.

"Dylan explained that when he has to bring her to business functions, he tries to spare her feelings. He was moving all over the room so they were never in one place long enough for her to see that people were staring at her and talking about her."

"Does Dylan have any explanation for why she's changed since he married her?"

"No, but he guesses it's a chemical imbalance. He doesn't know for sure, because she refuses to see a doctor or psychiatrist about her moods."

"I'm not a psychiatrist, but I think I've diagnosed her."

"What do you mean? Is that what you were going to tell me?"

"No. It's something else."

She listened raptly as I told her about my brief interaction with Lorena. I asked her what she thought it meant.

"I think it confirms what Dylan told me. How bizarre!"

I sighed.

"Minerva, Minerva! When are you going to start using your brains again?"

She bristled.

"You just can't let it go, can you? You probably interpret her behavior as a sign that he's after me. How can you possibly make that connection? How long are you going to play the fool? You must really love humiliating yourself."

I ignored her attack and spoke to myself, but loud enough for her to hear.

"How am I going to get that beautiful head to start thinking again?"

She reacted just the way I wanted her to.

"Yes, Frank. Tell me, how do you propose to do that? I've lost my mind, and there's nothing you can do to make me sane again. Maybe we should see a therapist. You can pick him, because I know you'd prefer a man. You could tell him all my symptoms. But after you do, I'll tell him your symptoms. Then he'll tell us which one of us is delusional."

Her voice was highly charged, but I replied calmly.

"No need to bring anyone else into this. You're smart enough to solve this problem, and I'm smart enough to know that's the only way we'll get past this. You've just got to get your brain going and solve the mystery."

"Fine, Frank. But how do I get my brain going, as you so politely put it."

"I'm not sure, but I have an idea."

"Okay, spill it."

"You're not going to like it."

"Then why would I do it?"

For a moment, I thought it was a rhetorical question, but I looked at her flared nostrils and furrowed brow and decided I better have a convincing answer. What could I say that wouldn't backfire on me? While I was thinking, she got impatient."

"I'm waiting."

"All right," I said, throwing caution to the winds. "You'll do it because it would prove once and for all how I'm completely wrong about Dylan. I'd have to bow and scrape and beg you to forgive me for being such an asshole about your innocent friendship with your work husband."

She thought for a moment.

"All right. Let me hear your sick idea, and I'll decide if I can stomach it."

"Pretend you're Columbo and trap him," I blurted out.

She waited for me to say more, but I outwaited her.

"That's it? That's your idea?"

"Yes."

"I may be smart, but I'm not smart enough to understand what you're talking about."

"You remember those old shows we used to watch. Columbo knew who was guilty, and he always found a way to trick the criminal into giving himself or herself away. Dylan may be smart, but you're the smartest human I know. You'll find a way to expose him."

She looked at me with disgust before she spoke.

"What if I can trick you into admitting that you're guilty of being hell bent on becoming a pitiable fool in his wife's eyes?"

"I confess, Detective Columbo. I plead guilty. Put me behind bars so you can get to next week's episode, the mystery of Dylan."

I waited while she was thinking about her reply, hoping she wouldn't soften her answer, because I wanted her to stay angry at me. I wasn't disappointed.

"You think Dylan is a predator, and I can't see straight because he's good-looking and a smooth talker. Saying it out loud makes me want to throw up.

"You're talking out of both sides of your mouth. You praise my intelligence, and at the same time, you tell me I'm a stupid aging woman who can't see through a young guy's plan to have me. If that's what he was up to, he'd want me to hide our relationship, not tell you everything. You're the one who isn't using his brain."

"What if Dylan's thing is that he wants me to know he's doing my wife?"

"Why would he want that? Wouldn't he be afraid you'd try to take revenge on him?"

"Not if he thinks I'm a wimp who will let his wife do whatever she wants because he's afraid of losing her. He may be the type who gets more satisfaction out of putting horns on a man and humiliating him than having sex with his wife."

"You are deranged. He's never once said you were weak."

"No. He only goes on about how great it is that I'm so open-minded and understanding and how wonderful it is that I go along with everything you decide to do."

"Ugh. You distort everything and make it sound dirty. He's never dropped the slightest hint that he wants to --. I wish you could see the women at the office who are panting after him, but he ignores their hints."

"I think we're starting to get off the subject. If you do what I just asked you to do, I think we'll find out pretty quickly who's right. Otherwise, I'm afraid you won't wake up before it's too late."

"I still don't understand what you want me to do, and you won't tell me. Maybe you don't even know yourself. Let's say I agreed to put myself into your fantasy and become your detective. How do I prove how wrong you are?"

"I have some ideas, but I'm not going to tell them to you."

"Why?"

"Because you'll think of something better. Once you start playing the role and decide he's guilty, you'll come up with the perfect trick to prove I'm right."

"Or you're wrong!"

She spat out the words at me.

"That's the spirit. Your motivation is to prove conclusively that I'm insanely jealous of poor, innocent Dylan for no reason."

"I see a problem. What if the results of my inquiry are what I know they will be? You'll just say he saw through me and figured a way around my trick."

"I can't do that."

"What's to stop you?"

"What I've been telling you all along. You are smart enough that you're going to devise a foolproof way for him to prove what he really is. I'll have to accept your proof. If I don't, it would mean I don't trust you anymore. In that case, we're finished anyway."