Page 15 of The Wife
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Every damn day I had to see her. I had to look at her. I had to think about what it would be like. Every time she laughed or made a goofy face and I wanted to kiss her so badly.
But I was in control of my dick. I could fight this. I had been fighting it. I could continue to fight it.
For another three fucking years.
I thought about going to her again. Now that I was calmer. Now that my brain was once again working. Everything I told her about my reasons for not having sex were true, but of course it wouldn’t have made sense to her.
Then I thought maybe this was a good thing. Maybe by hurting her a little now, it would help her to not see me like…that.
Right?
It was a pretty hard shutdown. Actually, too hard. I’d pushed her away, not really thinking what might happen to her. All I could think of was that if I didn’t stop I was going to take her on the damn kitchen floor. It was okay. Nothing happened to her. She was fine. Physically.
A little raw emotionally. Probably her confidence was shaken, but she would get over that in a quick hurry. She was Ellie.
And if she stopped looking at me like I was her personal hero, then maybe that would keep me in check. It wasn’t like I had ever panted after a girl who wasn’t into me.
Yes, this was probably for the best.
She would be pissed at me for a few days, then she’d realize I was right. Then, knowing her, because I told her I didn’t want her, she would move on. We could go back to being how we were. This was all contingent on the fact that she was hurting enough from my words that it wouldn’t have registered with her that I did kiss her back.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
If she stopped looking at me likethat, then maybe I would stop wanting to pound the ever loving crap out of her.
What a fucking asshole I was.
I made my way to the living room, sat in my chair, and drank my beer. It did absolutely nothing to make me feel better. Knowing nothing would, I got up and went to bed.
I heard her, of course. Through the door. Even though she was trying to muffle it. Crying because of me.
I remembered when she’d cried for days after Sam died. Always under the covers or into a pillow. I never really understood back then why she had tried to hide it from me. Her father was dead, it was only natural she would cry.
Had she thought I would think less of her? I hoped that wasn’t the reason.
Now, I knew she didn’t want me to hear her because it was a matter of pride.
Yeah, I told myself, this was good. Exactly what I needed to happen. She’d be angry and pissed. A little heartbroken. Then eventually she would get over it.
As long as she didn’t come to hate me. As long as that didn’t happen, we would be okay.
* * *
Ellie
There wassomething to be said for physical labor. I was in the barn, hacking away at a bale of hay, thinking what it would be like if I took said pitchfork to Jake’s head.
Okay, maybe that was a little over the top, but I was still super pissed at him. He was pretending to ignore it and mostly we were civil to each other, but after three days I was still not over what had happened.
At this point I was done crying over him. At least I hoped so. But it wasn’t just about the pain of rejection. Sure, my feelings were hurt. Sure, I was sad that what I thought had been changing between us was only changing for me. Those were things I could rationally deal with if I had a semblance of the maturity I claimed to have at my age.
What lingered was the anger.
Because I think, for the first time in my life, Jake lied to me.
“Ellie, I need you,” Jake called from outside the barn.
