Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) (7 page)

“Hello,” I said, gesturing to the leather couch opposite me.
“How are you today?”

“Nothing new to complain about anyway.”

I laughed. “Well, we can’t always make progress, but as long as
you aren’t going backwards, I guess that’s something.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Thanks for asking.”

He took a seat on the couch. “Please tell me you’ve seen someone
worse off than me and Judy in the last week.”

“Hmm.” I looked up out of the corner of my eye and pursed my
lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen at least two couples with bigger problems than
you guys.”

He laid an ankle across his opposite knee. “I’m probably a
terrible person that that makes me feel better.”

“You’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re just a regular
person.”

“So you wanted me to come on my own today?”

“Yes.”

“Is that so I get a turn to talk?”

I smiled. “It is.”

“I was hoping.”

“Well, let’s start with whatever you’ve been wanting to say that
you don’t feel you’ve had an opportunity to express.”

He cleared his throat. “Okay.”

I smiled and waited for him to find his words.

“I know that this is going to sound crazy. Especially because
you’ve only gotten to know Judy recently. As she is now. But I really want to
make it work with her.”

“That doesn’t sound crazy, Thomas. If that weren’t the case you
wouldn’t be here.”

“Just hear me out.”

I nodded.

“She wasn’t always such a- a…” He looked around the room for a
second and exhaled through his nose. “She used to be different, Dawn. She was kind.
And funny. Really funny.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you trying to say that lately she
hasn’t been the woman you married?”

He nodded.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess the best way to describe it is that
she’s gotten really uptight. She wasn’t like that when we met. She didn’t keep
score. She was like… helium.”

“Helium?”

“Light.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.”

“But I know the woman that I love is still in there. But it’s
like she’s overwhelmed by stress or something. It’s like she’s so stressed out
that she can’t even take time to choose words that aren’t… hurtful.”

“Does that happen a lot?” I asked. “Her saying hurtful things?”

He shrugged. “I don’t take it personally because it’s so out of
character.”

“How do you deal with it?”

He sighed. “I’m basically coping by pretending that she has some
kind of tumor that makes her act nasty all the time.”

I cocked my head.

“I told her that, too.”

“That you think she has a tumor?”

He nodded.

“Wow,” I said. I didn’t know he had it in him.

“I’m willing to do anything, Dawn. I’m convinced that if she can
just remember us- remember how we were- everything will be fine.”

“Okay.” I leaned forward and put my elbows on my clipboard. “Are
you also willing to admit that you’re not entirely blameless in this situation?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I
wanted to talk to you about that actually.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, you know how you’re always saying we should ask ourselves
What can I do today to make my marriage better
?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m at a loss.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, Judy is so impatient with me, and she’s annoyed by
everything I do lately. Except, of course, when I leave the house to go to
work.”

I nodded.

“I never know what’s going to set her off.” He took a deep
breath. “So when I’m home, I try to stay in my office and lay low. I just do my
best to keep out of her way.”

“I see. What if I phrase the question differently?” I asked.
“What if you asked yourself
What can I do today to make Judy’s life Easier
?”

The new thought in his head forced his bottom lip out.

“Look. You want to make it work, right?”

“Right.”

“And you think her stress levels are part of the problem?”

“The biggest part.”

“Okay, so do what you can to mitigate her stress. It doesn’t
have to be anything crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just offer to do little things for her. Try to anticipate what
she might be worried about getting done, and see if you can stay one step ahead
of her.”

He furrowed his brow.

“I know this might sound crazy, but women equate being supported
with being loved. So any way you can support her will make a difference.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“Sure. Take a minute to fold the towels instead of walking by
the dryer a hundred times ignoring the little light that says the load is
finished.”

He parted his lips to speak- perhaps in his own defense- but
closed his mouth again.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much, but even a little thing like
that will help her get ahead. Which will make her feel more relaxed. And trust
me. She’ll know you helped her get ahead.” I pointed straight at him. “Don’t
say anything about it. Don’t say
hey did you notice I did this or that?
She’ll
notice.”

“You really think that will make a difference?”

“I do.”

“I don’t mean to be difficult, but I don’t see how helping her with
chores is going to fix my marriage?”

“Because it will
soften
her. She’ll see that you're
trying to be helpful even though she hasn’t been her best lately. And she’ll
think
Maybe he doesn’t want me to feel like a crazy bitch all the time.”

“Of course I don’t want her to feel that way.”

“See, you say that now. But how often does she ask you to do
something more than once?”

He shrugged. “A few times a week.”

“And how do you think it makes her feel when she has to ask you
a second time?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at it this way. She probably does lots of things she
doesn’t want to do all day long without making a big deal about it, right?”

“I suppose.”

“And compared to all the stuff she does around the house, she
probably doesn’t actually ask for your help all that often.”

“Probably not, no.”

“So when she does and you make a big deal about doing whatever
it is in your own sweet time, you don’t exactly come across as a team player.
Or someone with a lot of respect for her time and breath.”

"I guess I could see that."

“Look at it this way. Let’s say you act annoyed and drag your
feet when she asks you to help her with something.”

“Sure.”

“Well in her mind, that leaves her with two choices, right? She
can nag you which makes her feel ugly and horrible and unsexy. Or she can just
do it herself which makes her feel resentful and makes her wonder if she’d be
better off without you.”

“I didn’t know it was such a big deal.”

“That’s okay. Women aren’t meant to be understood, just
appreciated.”

He squinted like he was trying to filter all the words I’d flung
through the air into his brain. “You really think that will make a tangible
difference?”

“I promise that if you are more helpful and considerate, the
dynamic between you will change for the better.”

“Won’t I look like I’m whipped, though? I don’t want her to start
taking advantage. Does that make sense?”

“Yes it does, and I’m so glad you asked that. Being helpful is
only the first part of the plan.”

“What’s the second part?”

“I want you to find your voice and start wearing the pants in
the relationship again.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that I want you to boss Judy around the way you
would if she were a slutty princess.”

His whole face pinched around his nose. “Can you elaborate on
that?”

“Sure,” I said. “I want you to say stuff like: put on a dress,
I’m taking you to dinner. If she admires something in a store, I want you to
surprise her by buying it for her. And I want you to get her flowers for no
reason other than the fact that
they were so pretty they made you think of
her
.”

“That’s a lot.”

“I’m not suggesting you do them all at once,” I said. “I just
want you to remember how you treated her when she was enchanting to you. I want
you to think back to when she was the woman you most wanted to woo in the whole
world, and treat her like she’s that person again.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

I shrugged. “Then at least you will have tried everything.”

“I’m too tired when I get in most nights to do that stuff though.”

“Too tired to save your marriage?”

“Touché.”

I smiled. “Try it for two weeks. What have you got to lose?”

He sighed. “My wife. My best friend. The mother of my children.”

“So fight for her. You said you were willing to do anything
right?”

“Yeah.”

“So help her find her way back by treating her like the woman
you fell in love with.”

Thomas cocked his head. “You think I can pull it off?”

“I know you can.”

Thomas left that session with renewed hope, and I was happy for
him. But I was jealous, too.

Because he still had time to make things right.

And because he knew what I didn’t. He knew how to reach out to
the person he loved most and show her that he’s cared all along.

I was so nervous the week before the dance I was sure my anxiety
would manifest itself as some kind of monster pimple. But for once, I got lucky.
My skin looked great, and I actually felt pretty. And my purple dress was only
tight on top so I wouldn’t have to suck in all night.

Our group of eight couples met up to take pictures at the
Hendricks’s house before the dance. And as soon as I saw Ian all dressed up in
his tux in front of his house, I could barely contain my excitement.

He was the coolest guy I’d ever liked. And the fact that he was
taking me to the dance meant that he was happy for the whole world to know he
liked me back.

Of course, I was a little worried about meeting his parents. Especially
since I’d already met the inside of their station wagon trunk. But they were nice,
and his Mom even told me I looked pretty while I was pinning on his boutonniere.
And when he gave me my corsage, it felt like the cherry on top.

I mean, I know the whole thing is a bit old fashioned, but I
think there’s something kind of sweet about being decorated by your date. Plus,
it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to a guy giving me flowers. And Mrs.
Hendricks went out of her way to say he picked the corsage himself. So I think
it counts.

My Mom came along to take pictures, but I knew she was more
interested in checking out Ian and evaluating his parents’ maturity. Fortunately,
they assured her that they would be home for the duration of the after party.

I suspect they didn’t know there was a keg on ice in one of
their garbage bins and several cases of beer hidden in bushes around their
house. But that was for the best. The important thing was that my Mom seemed
relieved after she talked to them.

Once everyone arrived, we stood in a line to take the pictures.
Ian had his hand around my waist the whole time, and I was beaming.

And for a few minutes, I didn’t hate my Mom or think about my
eating disorder. I didn’t worry about whether my bush was too bushy or whether
Ian and I were going to have sex later or whether we were all going to be okay.
I just enjoyed having a good looking guy’s arm around me while I wore a pretty
dress.

When we finally arrived at the decorated school gym, Ian asked
me to dance right away. I followed him onto the basketball court and draped my
arms over his shoulders.

“I’m glad your Mom finally ungrounded you,” he said.

“No kidding.”

“I missed you a lot the past few weekends.” He pulled my hips closer
and his eyes sparkled.

“Really?”

“Of course,” he said. “I wasn’t even going to come to this thing
if I couldn’t take you.”

“You could’ve asked somebody else.”

He shook his head. “There isn’t anybody else.”

I smiled. His attention made me feel so special and wanted.

But things went downhill from there.