When Not to Use That Present

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

A wife figures out her straight-laced detective of a husband is cheating on her. She is broken hearted and wants only his love, but what she gets isn't what she was expecting.

“Honey! How did you get that cut on your lip? With a page from that paperwork you’ve got your nose buried in for the past week?” Elizabeth tossed down her dishrag as she skirted past the couch to greet her husband’s tired face. Her eyes flitted from his green eyes back to his lips.
“A cut? What? I didn’t even notice, though it should be nothing to worry about. I guess I’ve been so involved with trying to take care of the case I forgot to take care of myself.” Steven bent down to kiss his tiny wide, brushing his lips up from her forehead to her bright red hair. He turned swiftly while saying, “I’ll go clean up, and you should finish cooking. I haven’t had the time to savor your delicious meals lately.”
Steven walked down the carpeted hall, not really noticing the new picture frames his wife put up in the midst of recollecting how seemingly perfect their relationship was in the beginning. Steven was an attentive boyfriend who doted on Elizabeth and constantly went out of his way to surprise her and keep himself in her heart and on her mind.
Steven reached inside the bathroom to flip on the light, while pulling his self in to shut and lock the door. Steven peered into the mirror, giving himself only a few inches from his reflection. Steven’s heart was thumping and his lungs felt swollen shut. At first he could not concentrate and his eyes looked at his black hair, to the bags underneath his eyes, to his unshaved beard, and finally fixated on a red swollen bump near his lip.
Steven instantaneously sneered at the unattractive blemish and upon noticing it, started to feel a slight itch. He thought better than to pick at it and instead reached inside his pocket for Chapstick. He knew Elizabeth was not stupid and decided he got the cold sore from all of the unusual weather and the stress of finding the culprits behind the linked sex crimes around the area. Thinking about the case almost caused his mind to relapse to an image he was quite fond of, but dismissed it by telling the mirror, “Everything is okay.” He then unlocked the bathroom and joined his wife in the kitchen, setting himself down at the table.
While he was admiring the soft curves of his wife, hypnotized by the sway of her body while finishing what smelled like parmesan chicken, Steven told her, “I think its just a cold sore, what with the funny weather and how stressed I am about finding those perverts.”
“That’s understandable, but for the four years we have been together, I have intimately explored every inch of that wonderful body of yours many times and never seen a trace of anything that looks remotely like a sore, much less a pimple,” Elizabeth replied, setting down plates and the dinner on the round dining table. “Eat up, babe.”
Steven helped himself to a healthy portion of Elizabeth’s chicken and potatoes, thinking about something her regretted to have eaten.
Dinner was quiet, with every sip, cut, and stab heard, with only small conversation between the couple. They chatted about Elizabeth’s day, gossiped about a few poker and potluck friends, keeping sentences short and simple.
Afterwards, Steven disappeared into the family room with a quick, “Thank you,” and as Elizabeth started cleaning the kitchen she heard the soft idle murmur which is so familiar from the television.
Elizabeth walked past the couch with her eyes settling upon Steven for a few seconds as he gazed intently on the news, wondering how it could not bored him after dealing with detective work all day prior.
Elizabeth went into the bathroom, and turned on the shower after quickly glancing at the door to make sure it was unlocked. As she slowly undressed she was saddened at the thought of how dispassionate Steven had become the past few months, and vainly tried to send him brain waves to come in. She was twenty-six and still was not a mother after being married for three years. Elizabeth kept these melancholy thoughts as her company while she showered.
Steven was absentmindedly cleaning his teeth with his tongue while watching the television flash from sports to the weather to a wild fire to the box office hits and he felt something weird on the roof of his mouth. He ran his tongue up and down it several times and discerned that it felt a bit bumpy. He got to his feet and opened his mouth up, trying to get a look in the hall mirror with no success. Steven ran to and from the kitchen, returning with a wide knife. He caught a reflection of a reflection and the roof of his mouth reminded him of caviar, because of the rounded pinkish projectiles.
Steven heavily brought down the knife upon the little catch-all underneath the mirror. He felt so angry. He was angry at himself, but more so at the pretty little sister of one of the victims. He knew he was a professional, but this girl had beauty only a fairy tale could conjure, with huge green eyes similar to his own, and long blonde hair, with high rosy cheeks that suited her pouty lips well. Her sister was a bit plain and it did not surprise Steven that she had gotten into adult entertainment, though Sasha, who was barely nineteen, could have found a decent husband and lived a life of luxury with her looks.
When Steven questioned Sasha about her sister, it was hard to look her in the eyes because of the shame of infatuation he felt. After the interrogation, she approached him, and they started talking on a more personal level. Unbeknownst to both coworker and wife, Steven started visiting the club that Sasha worked, watching her show and spending time with the girl when he could.
Steven loved Sasha, because of how unprotected and broken she was. He felt a need to take care of her, even after their escapades in sleazy motels his wife would never even glance at. He still came home to his wife at night, thinking of how simple and independent she want. He still found her beautiful, yet he was bored of playing house and he still did not have a son to play with.
Steven heard the bathroom door open and he turned his head to look in that direction. Elizabeth stepped out stark naked and dripping wet. She sauntered over while demanding, “Make love to me! You don’t put anything into this relationship and I miss the passion we used to share!”
“Liz, darling, not tonight, please. I love you so much but I can’t,” Steven pleaded.
“Show me how you love me. I don’t think you do darling, because actins speak louder than words, and you refuse to make love to me!” Elizabeth started to tremble because she was so upset and angry.
“Oh please don’t cry, Elizabeth,” Steven said as tears became visible and she started sobbing. Against his better judgment, Steven stepped towards his wife and started kissing her. Steven gave Elizabeth the passion she had been yearning for, knowing he could not fail her as a husband in that aspect of their relationship.
After their coming together, Elizabeth stood up to straighten the couch cushions, though she was still bare.
 
Several weeks passed silently in the couple’s abode. Elizabeth played house while more frequently emerging herself in Steven’s alcohol stash. Steven still visited Sasha, never questioning her about his blemished, and never been asked about them.
One morning, Elizabeth woke up a bit sore and lightly touched herself to find a few bumps. They tingled and burned. She went into the bathroom and propped one leg on the counter, hiking up her nightgown to find a bundle of sores. Steven was already at the office, so she called her doctor, requesting an immediate appointment, fearing the worst. The assistant told Elizabeth to come in for an emergency appointment.
Elizabeth threw on a long skirt and a blouse, twisted her hair up, and grabbed her purse on the way out. Elizabeth impatiently drove to the doctor’s office in her red Mini Cooper. She parked as close as she could and signed in at the front desk. Then she waited.
She was called back, inspected, and swabbed. She was told she would be receiving test results in a day or two, but the doctor told her it looked like a case of Herpes. Elizabeth thanked the doctor and went home, sipping a few drinks. She reasoned to wait for results before doing anything rash.
Elizabeth did wait. Barely twenty-four hours. The nurse advised Elizabeth to set up an appointment for treatment options, but Elizabeth told her she would call back. She hung up the phone and got in the car. She drove to Steven’s work and walked straight towards his private office. She silently shut the door behind her. “Who have you been fucking, Steven Gardenerelli?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Steven said, his eyes darting towards the ceiling.
Elizabeth spread her legs, rolled up her skirt, and pulled aside her panties to show him her inflamed red sores. “This is Herpes. My doctor told me it shows its ugly self about two weeks after contracting it.”
“Oh,” was all he could muster.
“Now, you are going to bring that little tramp to our house tonight, or I will have your fucking nuts in court, darling.” Elizabeth composed herself and stepped out of her husband’s office.
When she got home she threw herself onto the floor and started crying uncontrollably. She fell asleep on the tile and woke up only a few minutes before Steven was due home.
She unlocked a box in her closet which held the handgun she received for protection on her eighteenth birthday. She loaded it with a round and then heard Steven’s car door. She walked back to the living room, feeling an explosive heat from inside. She was excited for what was about to happen.
Steven brought in a doe-eyes blonde who was too young, and too pretty for Elizabeth. “Sit down, you whore,” Elizabeth demanded, waving the gun into view. Steven shoves Sasha behind him, drawing his own Government-issued pistol out.
“Darling dear, you forgot you were married to a detective. Please put that down so we may talk,” Steven reasoned with his sad wife.
“You have brought filth into the house,” Elizabeth yelled, pointing the gun at Sasha, “and dishonored our marriage!” She threw off her wedding ring. “Steven, you broke out perfect life!” She shot at the mirror behind him, with perfect aim.
Steven raised his own gun and shot his wife in the chest, spewing blood all over their white carpets and beige upholstering. Tears were trickling down his cheek as he looks at the clock. He wants the death certificate to have the right time, 8:15 PM. This was the time he lost everything.


Submitted: April 17, 2010

© Copyright 2021 PrettyCherish. All rights reserved.

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