Chapter Two: Vivian

I heard him come home last night around 11pm. You would think he’d come upstairs to say hello or maybe even ask how my day was, but no, he just went to his room. I can’t remember now the last time we’ve slept the entire night in the same room. It was four years ago maybe? Or five? Five.

Neither of us was sleeping well. The bed is too small and honestly, I’ve gotten too big. My ass alone takes up the middle third of the bed. Then again, I thought he liked holding my butt at night. It would keep him warm when I turned on the ceiling fan at night. After a few nights of tossing and turning, pulling sheets that suddenly became too small once I got under them, and freezing in the middle of the night, he tiptoed downstairs with his pillow and never came back. Since he’s been away our room has become my room. I don’t miss his pillow either; I’ve always dressed the bed with too many in the first place. I even redecorated last year.

We stopped making love a long time ago, but he still fucks me every now and then.

We stopped making love a long time ago, but he still fucks me every now and then. Which is another reason why I’m surprised he didn’t come upstairs last night…it’s about time for him to get his fix.

Don’t pity me, though. I am very sexually satisfied even though I have to do it myself. I’m on a first name basis with the owners of Bliss, our neighborhood adult toy store. My new favorite is a vibrator that your partner can control from a distance via Bluetooth so it’s ideal for those who are in long-distance relationships. You could say I’m in a long-distance relationship since Adrian essentially lives downstairs. Only, he doesn’t know I have it. My best friend, Vanessa, is very familiar with it because she’s usually the one who has to control it. No judgment. Your best friend isn’t really your best friend until you’ve had some quasi-lesbian moments.

I’m running late for work. I move the hangers in the closet quickly from left to right. I can never find anything in here!

“Adriaaannnn!! Did you finish the laundry last week?!” I scream from my bedroom.

“Yeah. I hung up everything that was cleaned,” he yelled back in a tone that sounds more dejected than irritated. I turn around and scan the room. My eyes land on the chair in the corner that is now covered with weeks of outfits. I shuffle over and start tossing pieces onto the floor until I find the shirt I’ve been looking for. After a quick sniff of the armpit I figure I can get away with wearing it one more day. I put it on and pick up all the clothes in the chair and shove them into the basket in the hallway. He’ll probably wash them this weekend.

I limit my makeup to lipstick this morning. (Let’s be real. I only wear makeup for special events.) I rub my lips together, wrap a Kleenex over my fingertip, get close to the mirror, and slowly remove the smudges along the edges before I pause. I stand up straight and stare at myself for a minute. The fabric on this shirt is unflattering and there are sleeves everywhere! When did I start looking 50? I don’t have time for my self-esteem right now. I turn off the light in the bathroom, but not before taking a glance at myself from the side. At least my ass looks good today.

I run down the stairs and see Adrian in the kitchen. He’s on his phone again. He’s always on that damn phone. He puts it away when he sees me. I like that I can still get his attention and it makes me feel better about what I just saw in the mirror a moment ago.

“Good morning, dear,” I say with a little extra sugar in my voice.

“Good morning.”

“I found my shirt.”

“I see.”

I get offended. Do I wear this shirt so often that he knew which one I was looking for? I make a mental note to go shopping.

“What time did you get in last night?”

“Around 10:30.”

*silence*

“Well how was your day yesterday?” I ask, starting to feel like I’m annoying him.

“Busy…as usual. Nothing to write home about.”

“The bed was cold last night,” I say with a slight smile.

“It’s always cold. Maybe you should turn the ceiling fan down.”

That hint fell flat. It’s been about six weeks since we last had sex. I guess it hasn’t been long enough for him after all.

“Will you be home for dinner tonight?” I ask, hoping that he proposes a date night. It is Friday after all.

“I should be. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

I decide to plan something for us to do tonight. He needs to do something fun to take his mind off work. I think I remember my co-worker telling me about a wine tasting event tonight. I should be able to get us tickets for that. I give him a kiss on the cheek and head to my car.

I hear the ringing on Vanessa’s line before I make it out of the driveway. She picks up in her usual cheerful voice.

“Who’s on first?” we ask at the same time before bursting into laughter. I don’t remember when we started beginning our conversations like this, but it’s our way to prompt the other to go ahead and spill the details of the previous day, night, or two hours depending on the last time we spoke. She starts.

“Did you get some yet?” she asks.

“Not yet.”

“Uh-huh.” I hear the disappointment in her voice. “I guess I’ll be your dildo for another week.” She laughs. I don’t find it as funny, but I appreciate that she’s willing to help me out that way. It’s a bit embarrassing and short of cheating on Adrian (which I’d NEVER do) it’s been the best way to add a little variety to my solo sex life. Another mental note: I should get a new toy.

“Viv, you need to go buy some lingerie and put on a show for him!”

“I don’t know where to go!” I lie. The truth is I do know where to go. I just can’t bring myself to buy some of the things they’re selling these days. It’s all so whore-ish and ever since Fifty Shades of Grey came out everything has studs and bolts and chains and whips and all kinds of attachments that freak me out. I don’t even let him pull my hair so why on earth would I let him pull my neck by a leash?

“I’ll send you some links,” she continues. “This is getting out of hand. It used to be once every two weeks and now it seems like it’s stretched out. You guys are too young for this!”

She’s right. We are too young for this. I might be 50, but he’s just turning 40. He should be voracious! I might have to use more lubricant than I used to, but hell, I’m not frigid!

Ness keeps talking and I don’t hear anything she says. It’s not until I hear someone honking the horn behind me that I realize that I’ve completely spaced. I press the gas pedal so quickly that I jerk forward and my stomach sinks at the same time.

My husband loves sex and he’s still having it. Just not with me.