For the first few months, Mitch continued to be pleasant. He brought roses to Denise at the office for no particular reason, and took her out to dinner several times a month. He jumped whenever she attempted to lift even an empty laundry basket, and took over the cooking completely to help her out around the house. Once the newness of the pregnancy wore off, however, he went right back to being the same, disgruntled old Mitch.
“Mitch,” Denise called from the kitchen, “I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind taking the garbage out? The bag is overfull, at this point, and I can’t lift it.”
“I’ll take care of it later. Don’t worry about it.”
Denise sighed. “Whatever,” she muttered. To Mitch she said meekly, “But, honey, you said that yesterday…”
“Don’t get mouthy with me, Denise,” Mitch snapped. “I said I’d take care of it, and I will. It doesn’t have to be done right now. Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t give you an excuse to be bitchy with me, so lose the attitude.”
Denise didn’t bother to respond. She just shook her head in silence, and went back to washing dishes. Too busy doing nothing on the computer to help me out, as usual, she thought to herself. Big surprise there.
Mitch spent hours and hours in front of the computer every evening, playing video games, chatting with his buddies online, or, most frequently, looking at and downloading various pornographic pictures on the internet. Over the past several weeks, Mitch and Denise had numerous fights about this issue. At this point, Denise was just too tired to get into it. She decided to leave it alone this evening.
The couple hadn’t made love in weeks, and they hardly spoke anymore. Denise could feel their relationship deteriorating again, and she tried in vain to find new ways to rekindle the old flame. She was starved for attention, but had run out of ideas, and worse yet, had completely lost interest. She simply didn’t see the point in trying anymore. She was terribly frustrated, and hoped that the new baby might finally change things for the better. Unfortunately, that was five long months away.
The sound of the ringing phone snapped Denise back to reality. Wow, she thought, he’s actually not online for once!
“Hello?’
“Denise! How are you feeling?” It was Shelly Richards. She and her husband Robert had been the Farber’s very close friends since college. “We were hoping the four of us could get together soon and maybe have a little dinner party or something. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you!”
“Hi, Shelly!” Denise laughed. “We’d love to get together. I’ll check with Mitch, because I think it’s our turn to host. I’ve been feeling great, by the way! Thank you for thinking of us. What days would be good for you and Bob? Give me a few choices and I’ll compare them with Mitch’s schedule. I’ll give you a call at the end of the week to plan something. Does that work for you?”
The women chatted aimlessly for a few more minutes, and Denise hung up. She had written down some dates to run past Mitch, and went into the living room to discuss the idea with him.
“Mitch, that was Shelly on the phone…”
“I heard,” he interrupted. “What days did they give you? Do you feel up for company?” Denise handed him the paper with the dates scrawled on it.
“I would love to host a dinner party,” she replied excitedly. “We haven’t had company in an awfully long time.”
“Whatever. If you want to, then that’s fine.” Mitch circled two dates on the sheet. “Either of these days would be good. Just don’t invite them over too early, okay? Better make it for any time after six o’clock, just in case I get a call during the day.”
“That’s fine, honey,” Denise replied, jotting this all down. “I’ll take care of it and call Shelly to set it up.”
“Fine. Don’t expect me to cook for this, though.”
“Oh, okay,” Denise stammered. “I don’t mind. Anything in particular you’d like me to make?”
“I don’t care. Make whatever you want.”
“All right,” Denise replied softly. “I’ll think of something.” She returned to the kitchen and continued cleaning. Housework had become her best source of stress management, lately. Denise cleaned the countertops vigorously until they shone. She swept and mopped the kitchen and dining room floors, and straightened out the tablecloth and placemats.
“Denise, would you get me another cup of coffee?” Mitch called from the living room.
“Sure, Mitch,” she responded, trying not to let her resentment come through in her voice. “I’ll be right there.” Denise retrieved his coffee mug from the cluttered, cigarette ash laden computer desk, and tried to hide her disgust. She refilled the mug, added the proper amount of sugar and creamer, and handed it to him. Mitch took the mug without even looking up from the computer screen, and didn’t bother to thank Denise.
“Have you finished the laundry yet?” he asked her absently. “I’m running out of clean jeans and shirts for work.”
“It’s in the dryer now, Mitch,” Denise sighed. “You know I wouldn’t let you run out of work clothes,” she answered timidly.
“What the hell is your problem?” Mitch’s eyes flashed with anger. “I just asked a simple question for crying out loud. I don’t need your attitude.”
“Mitch, when have I ever not done the laundry and the housework, for God’s sake?” Denise hurled back at her husband. “Maybe you wouldn’t get so much attitude from me if you helped me out around here once in a while, and didn’t spend all your free time on that stupid computer!” She turned angrily and rushed out of the room. Time to clean the bathroom, she thought to herself. Good time to do that. Mitch flew after her, grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around to face him.
“How dare you!” he snarled at her. “How dare you speak to me that way! I work my ass off for you, and this is the thanks I get? Typical. I don’t see you working outdoors in the cold and the snow and the rain. You could never do what I do for a living, so don’t you dare give me any crap about relaxing in the evenings. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up with the house.” Denise winced in pain, and her arm was turning red where he clutched her tightly.
“Mitch, let go,” she squealed in agony, “you’re hurting me!” Denise’s eyes filled with utter terror from her husband’s outburst.
“That’s the only way I can ever seem to get your attention, Denise, so stop your whining. It’s your own damned fault.” Mitch flung her away from him. “I’m going out. The house had better be spotless when I get home or you’re really in for it.” With that, he snatched up his coat and keys, slamming the door behind him, as usual.
Denise fell to the floor sobbing uncontrollably. She didn’t know what to do. He didn’t work any harder than she did. He worked only forty hours a week or less, while she worked nearly fifty or more herself every week. Plus, she was now four months pregnant and he never lifted a finger to help her with the housework. She felt a sharp twinge of pain in her abdomen, and shrieked. Denise scrambled to find the phone, and dialed 9-1-1. The ambulance screamed into the driveway in no time at all, and the paramedics rushed in to see what might be wrong.
After much interrogation, poking, prodding and listening, the EMT’s decided it would be best to admit Denise to the hospital for further observations to be safe. One of the attendants noticed the fingerprints on Denise’s arm, and frowned.
“Mrs. Farber, what happened here?” He searched her face as she responded.
“Oh, that?” Denise stammered. “I was washing the countertops in the kitchen and tripped over the cat,” she managed a weak smile, “and my husband caught my arm to keep me from hurting myself.” She wasn’t sure the emergency worker believed her, but she tried to maintain the lie.
“I see,” he murmured. “Where is your husband now?”
“He went out for a while. Probably to his best friend’s house to watch the game.”
“Ma’am, you look like you have been crying. Is everything okay here?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” Denise spoke up right away. “The pain from the baby spooked me so much that I became quite emotional. I’m just fine now.”
“I see,” he replied again. “Well, let’s get you to the hospital now. I’ll give your husband a call when we get there.”
After the doctors examined Denise thoroughly, they decided the pain she had experienced was the result of Braxton Hicks contractions, which are very common throughout pregnancy. They cleared her for returning home, but had been unable to locate Mitch. Denise called Anne to come pick her up at the hospital to bring her home. To the women’s dismay, Mitch was already home when they arrived. He flew from the house in a worse rage than before, screaming at her in the yard.
“Where the hell have you been?” he yelled, loudly enough for the neighbors to hear. “Do you have any idea what time it is? The house is still a mess! I told you it had better be clean when I got home or there would be hell to pay. Now get your lazy ass in there and clean up that mess!” Mitch waved his arms madly as he screamed at her, then grabbed his wife and pushed her toward the house. Denise stumbled and fell face down onto the walkway, crying. “Get up and stop your damned crying. I told you what would happen if I came home to a mess.”
“Mitch!” Anne screeched as she jumped to help Denise to her feet again. “I just picked her up at the hospital because no one could locate you! Leave her alone, for God’s sake, she is pregnant!” Anne’s eyes flashed with anger and hatred for Mitch at that very moment. “Keep this up and she will probably lose the baby.”
“Maybe that would be best. She can’t keep up with the housework now without whining at me. There’s no way she could ever take care of a baby, too.” He turned his back on the women. “I’m leaving. I’ll deal with you when I get home.” And with that, Mitch climbed into his truck and peeled out of the drive again.
No comments:
Post a Comment