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how it works

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By kate mackereth
10/18/18
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With every rise and fall of the spit ball attached to his lip, Ali despised him more. She waited for it to pop with the next snort of his nose. This was her nightly routine. She was living one bubble to the next.

‘Pete?’ Nudging never helped. At least she could flick the channel to something other than news. Between that and his snoring her sex-life was doomed.

So much for the flirty thirties.

She could see her small pink reflection in the next bubble, chopping vegetables her kids wouldn’t eat and in yellow, hoisting her husband’s clothes off the floor into the dirty clothes basket only a meter away. There she was in green, using hot wax on body parts that wouldn’t be seen.

She wasn’t seen.

Ali longed to burst her own perfect bubble and smear all those colours to the true murkiness that marked her marriage. She was tired of waiting, hoping. If Pete was like this now, she couldn’t imagine him in their sixties. Why she had waited all those years was lost on her now. While all her friends had been out drinking and gettin’ it on, she had filled the church roster where she could. While they were dancing the night away wearing things that made little old ladies gasp, she had cooked meals for the husbands of said ladies who had taken their final breaths.

And all for what? To sit around growing wrinkles herself? Maybe Pete never wanted her, but someone sure would.

Kicking off her slippers, Ali tip toed to the bedroom and pulled a dress from her closet she’d bought for a date night that never happened.

She stuffed her mum-tum into a sleek looking pair of stockings and double dipped her mascara brush. Pete wouldn’t miss her. He’d think she’d fallen asleep with one of the kids.

But she was done.

The door closed behind her a little loud but probably not enough to wake the old fart. She carried her black stilettos so they wouldn’t clip clop down the driveway and drove to a local club, one known for its sleazy singles.

The first man to slither beside her at the bar was a bit too greasy so she downed a shot and excused herself to the dancefloor. The flashing lights were as bad as a maternity ward but at least they hid her awkward foot shuffles. She could see a man smiling at her. Ok, so maybe that look was for the young twenty something behind her… but there were a few hopefuls.

Finally she found her victim. Or maybe he thought he’d found his. His hands drifted south of her waist pretty fast and a delighted panic rushed through her. Was she really about to do this? It was Pete’s fault. He never bothered to delight in her.

'I delight in you.'

The voice was lost in the beat of the music and Ali didn’t care to hear it anyway. She followed the stranger instead to his Holden Monaro out back. His harsh mouth kissed hers before she could protest, his pine-needled stubble hurting her face.

The fist came out of nowhere.

Pete.

The man’s body staggered away from her and received another blow, twice the strength of the first. Pete’s voice boomed fiercer than she’d ever heard it. The man didn’t bother peeling himself off the road.

She scrambled into her husband’s car like a scared street rat.

‘What’s wrong with you Ali?’

‘I’m wasted on you. You never want me!’

Pete hit the brakes a few streets down, fuming.

‘I’m a labourer Ali. I get tired that’s all.’

‘Rot.’ She swiped at a tear. ‘You’ve had women all your life. I waited for you and this is what I get!’

‘What? So you regret a life covered in God’s grace? You envy my sin? Isn’t that a waste Ali?’ It’s true I’ve been with lots of women, but none of them I respected the way I respect you.’

‘So respect me a little less!’

Pete’s laughter rippled down her spine.

‘I want to have fun with you. I just don’t want to bring my mess into our marriage. I’m sorry. Don’t give up on me okay.’

Ali kicked off her shoes, embarrassed by her foolishness.

‘Take me home?’

‘No, I’m taking you to bed.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘Where’d you get that dress anyway?

’It was for you… you boring old man.’

Pete put the car in park.

‘We’ll see about that.’

Fiction

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