LJ Idol Week 24: Topic 1 of 2: Canard
It’s easier to lie than I thought it would be.
“I have to work late again tonight,” I say, and he doesn’t question it. Just looks at me with a smile on his face and love in his eyes and complete and total trust.
“Do you want me to wait on you for dinner?” he says, and I shake my head, ignore the guilt, and peck him on the lips.
“No,” I say. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” he says, accepting it easily. “See you tonight. I hope you have a good day.”
He touches my arm before he walks away, his fingers warm and gentle on my skin. I can feel them long after he has disappeared out the door.
I should feel ashamed for what I’m doing. For the lies and for the betrayal. This is the man I married after all. He loves me with all his heart. I see it every time he looks at me, feel it every time he touches me.
He tries really hard. I know he does. He takes care of the house, makes the meals, does the laundry, runs the errands. All to be the perfect husband he thinks I deserve.
I don’t deserve him, but I can’t find it in myself to leave him either.
Instead, I tell myself it’s better this way. I do care for him after all. I do love him - maybe not in the way that makes my heart flutter or my toes curl - but he is warm and familiar and my closest friend in the world. And I don’t want to hurt him by telling him the truth.
•••
I’ve never been one to believe in fate or soulmates or even The One.
When I was younger, I fancied the bad boys. The reckless ones with their long hair and their motorcycles doing weed in their parents’ basements underneath their noses.
He wasn’t anything like that. He was - and is - one of the good ones. We met in college, partners in a group project. He was easy to talk to. He made me laugh.
We kept studying together even when we didn’t have to. We kept talking. We kept laughing.
We fell into bed one night after a little too much to drink. He was horrified in the morning.
“We’ve never even been on a date!”
He asked me out, right then and there. I said yes. We kept going on dates. We kept talking. We kept laughing. He kept asking for more and I kept saying yes. The engagement, the marriage, the house, now the kids.
Sometimes I’m not sure if I ever wanted any of it. Sometimes I think I kept saying yes because it was easy.
And now here I am, living with a man I never stopped saying yes to and thinking about the bad boys I never could say no to.
•••
We meet at not-husband’s apartment that’s not too far from where we work. He lets me in, and our clothes are off before we’ve even finished saying hello.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone like him. Rough and strong and full of confidence. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone who made me feel like this. Like I need to have him now, like I can’t stay away.
It’s only been a few weeks but this man, who is not my husband, already know all the spots that make me tick. He knows just where to kiss me behind my ear, knows just the spot on my inner thigh to brush his fingers over, knows just how hard to bite down on a nipple before thrusting inside.
“We should go away together,” he says when we’ve finished. We’re still lying in bed, clothes scattered somewhere on the floor.
“I’m married,” I remind him.
“You don’t have to be,” he says.
“True,” I answer.
It’s not really true. I don’t want to not be married. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t want anything more from him than a friendly fuck every now and then. But I don’t tell him that.
Lying really does come easy now.
•••
My husband is waiting for me when I get home. I’ve checked myself over in the car. My makeup is fine. My hair is in place. Clothes are all on correctly.
“How was work?” he asks.
“Long,” I say. “I’m tired. I think I’ll call it a night.”
“Okay,” he says, and he leans in to kiss me gently. “Maybe this weekend we can have a date night. We haven’t done that in a while.”
I reach up to touch his face, give him my best smile.
“I’d like that,” I say, and I think I mean it.
I turn around to climb the stairs, pausing to turn back for just a second. “It looks like I’m going to have to work late a few nights next week too.”
“Okay,” he says easily. “Whatever you have to do.”
fiction. mostly. may or may not be based on some scandalous gossip I heard last week from my sister.
This was written for Week 24 of therealljidol. This week, we were given two topics and had to write entries on both. To read other people's works, please go here. We are down to the Top 13, so if you would like to vote, voting is here!