Beginning

Jeremiah Rogers angled his body away from the other person in
the room, shifted his gaze to the window, and caught sight of the reflection of
his own face. Gaunt and aged in ways he hadn’t been a year ago, he stared into
the echo of his eyes.

Without turning, he said, “I can’t offer an excuse, because there isn’t one. I won’t insult you by saying it never meant anything, because you know how I am. You’ve always known how I felt about her. She…” Here he paused, at a loss for words for so long his soon-to-be ex-wife stirred restlessly, the fabric of her jeans making a shirring noise as her legs crossed and re-crossed. The mattress groaned softly, a sound that had often been heard in this room in years past, and one that made guilt dig its hooks a little deeper into him because it had masked their lie.

Her silence drove him forwards. At this point, they’d been talking so long he was ready to just have it over with. “I knew when I took you to my bed we’d wed. Your father wouldn’t have allowed anything less. I also—” 

He turned and saw her tear-streaked face looking at him out of the shadows.
They’d been talking so long the sunset had stripped the color from the room,
leaving everything in banded shades of gray and beige. He swallowed and pushed ahead, needing to have all the secrets laid bare. “I also know you didn’t love me then. We’ve made it work all these years, because neither of us wanted
more.” Retro shook his head. “I’m no longer content to live this way.”

“What’s changed?”

“You know what’s changed, Wanda.” She was smart, and he
suspected she’d already put two-and-two together. He was done living like this,
forcing himself through the days and avoiding the nights. Her lack of follow-up
on her question told him he was right.

“What about our kids, Jerry? How will we tell them?”

At her words, he pulled in the deepest breath he’d taken in days, because with two sentences she’d aligned herself at his side. She knew the lay of the land. She’d always known they weren’t a love match. It was one of the things that made her so bitter towards his brother Isaiah, because he’d found his love. Gone now for too many years, but Isaiah had kept his Hope’s love alive in how he was raising their children. Wanda had tried to drive a rift between the brothers over it. Unsuccessfully.

“Nelda won’t be surprised.” Their daughter was always putting together unexpected puzzles, and from the sadness she’d borne in the past months, Jerry knew Nelda had seen how he’d been pulling away from her mother.

“Boys will follow her lead.” He lifted his hands and scrubbed across his face.
“I never meant—”

“You’re not the only one to stray, Jerry.” Wanda’s declaration took him by surprise and his palms were still pressed to his cheeks as he jerked and looked at her. “I haven’t been happy for years.”

His blood started to boil and he dropped his fists to his hips, staring down his nose at her for a moment. Then he laughed once, a humorless bark of noise meant to keep him from saying things best left unsaid, and he turned back to the window, their dimmed and blurred reflections now highlighted by a deep blackness. “Since it all happened years before you came to my bed, I wouldn’t actually classify it as strayin’, Wanda. Can you say they were important to you at least?” He’d had suspicions once or twice, but Wanda had been so… blameless. Every time he’d thought to bring up the idea of separating, just the look on her face would seal his lips.

“One was.” She gave him that, and then he saw her reflection move, shifting to the opposite side of the bed. She slowly stood and then waited for a moment, and when he didn’t turn, told the room, “I’m going to start supper.”

Surreal.