Page 20 of Leviticus
“Well, it smells delicious. How can I help?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood, hip propped up against the counter.
“Oh heavens, nothing is needed. Please sit and I will serve your food momentarily. I just need to plate the dishes and we will be ready,” I shushed him with a smile. But he did not return it this time. No, he had gone rigid again. Just like he had in the study earlier.
“You do not need to serve me,” he stated, his brow furrowed in something akin to anger. His tone wasn’t menacing or rude, or even angry for that matter, but he was a far cry from happy.
“Of course. I only mean —”
“I know what you meant,” he interjected, and with that he made his way to the table and pulled up the newspaper that still sat folded neatly atop it. I shook off his surly demeanor and quickly plated the meal. I felt deflated. This was supposed to be a meal to warm him up to me, to want to talk to me. Not to shut us down further.
“Here is your food, Leviticus,” I stated, looking anywhere but at his face as I set the plate in front of him. I turned away only to stop short at the sharp sound of his fingers snapping. It was loud and stopped me in my tracks.
“I’ve stated more than once, call me Levi. Not Leviticus.”
My back straightened and I nodded slowly, refusing to turn and look at him.
I quickly grabbed my own plate and sat opposite of him, as I had for every meal of our married life save the wedding feast where I sat beside him. I sat stiff and ramrod straight as I took my first bite. I couldn’t help the soft sigh at the flavor. It was a delicious dish, even if Levi was going to be surly about it.
“I’m not hungry. Thank you, but please put mine in the fridge. Perhaps I will eat it for lunch tomorrow.”
And with that, he all but stormed off towards our bedroom. I sat there in stunned silence until I heard the door slam, jolting me back to reality. Well, fine then. Just because he was going to be a right jerk about whatever had him in a tizzy didn’t mean I would miss out on the yummy food. I ate in blissful silence, deciding I would rather eat alone than deal with his sour attitude at the moment.
Marital bliss, indeed.
I took my time finishing my meal and cleaning up the dishes afterwards. His attitude and subsequent absence had me feeling a touch feisty; a sensation I was not superbly comfortable with. It did not do for a wife to be anything but compliant to her husband. And I was feeling anything but compliant at the moment.
I made my way to our bedroom, ready to prepare for bed, and put this awkward and ridiculous day behind me. When I entered the room, Levi was just exiting the attached bathroom.
In nothing but a towel and the water droplets that still clung to his skin.
My breath caught, and I felt… well, I felt a myriad of things all at once. His chest was lightly dusted with dark hair, his muscles taught and shifting with every move he made. The water droplets on his rosy-hued skin — obviously heated and warmed from the shower — clung to him before sliding down the length of his torso. I could barely look away.
“Oh mercy!” I exclaimed, finally looking away and remembering my manners. “I’m sorry, Levi.”
“It’s fine, Ruth,” he murmured. I watched as he began gathering his night clothes from his dresser, the towel hanging from his lean hips and drawing my focus.
“Levi? Um, I just wanted to apologize,” I began meekly.
“Whatever for?” he interjected, still not looking at me as he rifled through his dresser.
“For the whole thing this afternoon,” I explained.
“What thing?”
“The thing in the library,” I explained.
“I literally don’t know what you’re talking about, Ruth,” he sighed with an air of exasperation.
“The thing with the books,” I sighed right back.
“Spit it out, please. I don’t know anything about books.” He slammed the dresser drawer shut, turning to set his clothing on the bed.
“I didn’t mean to push about the books. I know you could probably tell I wanted to read them, but I also accept the rules of your home, Levi,” I began, but his humorless chuckle cut me off.
“You think I have an issue with you reading? My God, no! Read whatever books you wish. This house is just as much yours as it is mine. I only ask that you let me know which books you remove from my study to read. And I only ask that so that I know their whereabouts. I don’t like to lose things. I can be quite meticulous that way.” He explained. I almost didn’t catch it when he murmured “In a lot of ways” under his breath.
“Then why were you so frustrated with me?” I pushed. I don’t know why I pushed, but I did. He had made me feel on edge all day, as though I were walking around on eggshells.
“You didn’t frustrate me,” he countered, putting his hands on his trim waist.
