I didn't call her. Experience told me she'd be enraged, and we'd row before I got home at all. The journey took ten minutes and I pulled into our drive.
"You're late," she shouted.
"Sorry, sweetie. But I'm here now, so go and enjoy your night with the girls." I wasn't surprised by her tone. After twelve years of marriage, I was used to it.
I poured myself a cocktail and sauntered upstairs to our bedroom.
My beloved was standing in front of a full-length mirror, wearing what can best be described as a figure-hugging dress, if only one had the figure for it to hug.
My gut told me to kiss her neck and leave. However, I'm a guy not known for listening to my inner voice. I was tired. It had been a long day. I picked up the newspaper, kicked off my shoes, and lay back on the bed. I sipped my drink and sighed with pleasure. Then she asked:
"Does my bum look big in this?"
It was always the same If I said no, she'd call me a liar, and if I said yes she'd dissolve into tears. I looked up for a mere second. Any longer meant I needed time to think
"No, dear. You look lovely." I smiled.
I buried my head in the newspaper. Above the rim of my spectacles, I watched her twist and turn, trying to view the reflection from every angle.
To be honest, over the years, and after carrying our three children, my wife had gained some weight. However, in my eyes, she was still the girl I fell in love with fifteen years ago Next was the question I'd been dreading.
"Honey, are you sure? I don't want to go out looking like an elephant."
Should I tell the truth and suggest an alternative from her wardrobe? I couldn't break her heart so without looking up I said. "You look fine."
She believed me. After applying some lipgloss and brushing her hair, she blew me a kiss.
"I won't be late. We're having dinner and some drinks at 'The Plaza.'"
"Don't worry. The kids are fine. You enjoy yourself."
"I'll say goodnight to them before I go."
Our sons were sleeping, so she quietly closed their door. I heard her tiptoe into our four-year-old daughter's room. Katie was still awake.
"Honey, why are you not sleeping?"
"Not tired, Mom," she said, just loud enough for me to hear.
"Well, sweetie, it's late, so please try."
There was silence before I heard words that chilled me to the bone.
"Mom, did that dress used to fit you?"
As my wife approached I locked the bathroom door. It was dawn before she stopped screaming and I let myself out.
Who said women are the weaker sex?