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Dirty Laundry II
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2021-11-24 09:00:25It was barely four in the evening. The floorboards were weathered and the table somewhat tacky. Relying on the light coming through western-facing windows, Blue couldn’t comment on the ceiling lamps—only two of which were functional. Sun slipping behind the dense hedging that was the central business district, she worried that she was keeping the café open; and as such, lack of natural lighting was not usually an issue.
She didn’t have it in her to critique Anya’s timing. After all, she had asked the impossible. Dinner preparations usually began promptly at three-thirty, serving at five. She made a pretty safe bet that there was plenty of laundry to keep her occupied in the meantime. If not, there was certainly no shortage of windows to clean. With each hour, it seemed more and more uncertain she’d see the woman she had come to miss. Regardless, she couldn’t help but hope. A fool’s errand.
With each hour it seemed more and more uncertain.
Perhaps she should h
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The duvet laid rolled at their feet, top sheet masking their tangled legs and cutting short of the girl’s pantless hips. Despite the heat and the fear of a light sweat sticking their stomachs together, there was nothing Blue wanted less than to break herself from her perch on the man’s stomach to roll over. Similarly, Vincent had taken quite a liking to the brush of her exhale on the bare skin of his chest and the tangle of her fingers through his hair.Never had he been so focused on something so inconsequential. National Geographic filled the void of silence where conversation fell short, but his eyes remained fixed to the fluttering of her own and the tangles of her hair as her cheek turned to the opened window and she stared into the void of the city, almost overwhelmed by her own insignificance.“What were your parents like?” Blue paused in running her fingers through the hair that had grown wild and begun to form a veil over the base of hi
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Perched on the windowsill, Blue wasn’t nearly as consumed by thoughts of marriage and murder as she had been the first time. And unlike the last, she was on speaking terms with her husband. It had been half a week without any kind of verbal altercation—if Blue’s silent evasion was to be counted. Thankfully, Vincent hadn’t pressed the issue in much the same way Blue had skirted around Vincent’s being in her father’s office. She had been thankful to be kept awake by him rather than another argument; something she wasn’t all too eager to risk. Instead, she was rather focused on the sound of the rain pelting against the glass and the smell of bacon that aroused both hunger and nausea so conflicting. She knew too well if she looked to the man who stood over the stove with little more in the way of clothes than a pair of joggers a size or two too small, she’d be bent over the counter if she had her way. Her stomach couldn’t fare an extra half-hour without a decent
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Feeling her spine press the skin of her back and stretch against it with each inhale, she had never felt more naked than she did by the hand of the rippling bathwater fallen to her hips. With the gentle rake of Vincent’s hands and a coarse washcloth, she couldn’t help but accept the gentle reminder that she was more hopeless than she had hoped to be by eighteen; she still woke suddenly gripped by worry. She still soaked through the sheets in her sleep with sweat. She still ate a warm breakfast cooked for her. And still cowered from a gentle embrace.But there had been quiet victories.She had showered once a day for weeks she’d lost count of. She had eaten three square meals and washed and folded her own clothes. Stripped the bed on her own and took the linen to the dry cleaner. All the things her parents had hoped she’d never know—less from love than it was grooming her for subservience.And she felt happiness. At least more than s
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The irony wasn’t lost on Blue that the only restaurant accepting a reservation for six happened to be one so awkwardly nestled between the division of upper-and-lower-class Manhattan. At least the only one accepting reservations for such a large table only three hours earlier on a Friday night. Which also happened to be the very same she had met her now-husband for their first official date.Almost two months later, she felt extremely overdressed—so as not to avoid confrontation from her mother. Her stockings stuck to her legs from the rain, the skirt of her dress whose empire waist already wasn’t doing her any favors had creased in her Uber and her hair had broken from its bun. The one she had redone four or five times out of pure terror.Of what?How many glasses of wine she could turn down before she caved? How much groping she could ignore from her beloved fiancé? Or how much terror her mother could unleash in a one-hour win
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While Blue was so sure that Sandra’s coy smile would elicit some confrontational response from her mother, the woman simply returned a rather friendly smile. For that brief moment, it was almost as though she was proud of her daughter. Or at least she was pretending to be.It seemed that Marian had chosen to be rather civil, let it be because it was the first time seeing her daughter since she fled shoeless in the night or because she had to make a good impression on the family she’d hope would absorb her own. After all, she knew better than to bite the hand that fed her.They had survived entrees and mains without incident. Marian had even gracelessly complimented the outdated charm of Blue’s dress and told her she looked much less washed out with her cooler highlights. She had even survived the whole meal without Richard laying a hand on her, though she assumed it had less to do with her luck and more to do with the stern gaze of his father. Some sm
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“Blue… Off already?” releasing his grip on the woman, she took a cursory few steps back, almost tripping on the heels of her shoes. With dark hair and deep-set eyes, it seemed the only difference between Christopher and his son was the markings where time and age had taken its toll. They wore the same sneer as though it had been burned into their face and squared their shoulders in much the same way. As she returned the man’s firm smile and crossed her arms to brace the cold, Blue fought against the creeping notion that her destiny was to follow in Sandra’s footsteps as the blonde trophy wife. The only difference between them, of course, would be the fact Blue’s firstborn wouldn’t have Richard’s hair or eyes—they would be Vincent’s. “I was hoping we’d get the chance to talk,”“Yeah, I have to get home,” Meeting the man’s firm gaze and studying the eyes that bore such resemblance w
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By the time Blue had made it home, she’d soaked half through the dress she hadn’t the energy to take to the dry cleaners and would much rather ruin in the washing machine. The awning of the restaurant had done little to protect her from the eastern-slanted rain that slipped beneath the roofing just to drench her. Her car had taken five minutes too long to arrive, time enough for her hair to stick to her face and goosebumps to set in. Yet meeting the gaze of the man who sat on the couch in a pair of enviously dry slacks and a sweater she’d kill for, she couldn’t help but mirror the grin he instantly offered. “I told you to let me buy you a car,” As he spoke, his arms opened almost instinctively, chest aching as she kicked her shoes to the side and made a careful approach. Aching with longing and lust and the deepest affection he had yet felt. Things he failed to vocalize. Things yet so constant. “I’m soaking, I’ll ruin your clothes,” Though she offered some refusal,
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The pair had kept one another up far too long the night before to muster any energy for cooking. Sat at the kitchen island, knees touching like a pair of high school sweethearts after their first sweet yet somewhat disappointing quickie and breaths smelling rather suspiciously stale and of sex, Blue found it rather hard to concentrate on her breakfast cereal. With that, Vincent was in agreeance.He wasn’t as disappointed in himself for such a late start to the day as he would have been two months prior, sans Blue. Instead, he found the time to relish in the charm of Special K at one in the afternoon. Rather, the sight of his wife with tangled hair and his own tee-shirt hanging loose on her shoulders inside-out. Milk dripping from the corner of her mouth in a way that made him think of something else entirely. Suddenly, he wanted no less than to bend her over the kitchen counter and rail her as he had time and time again. “Can I ask you something?”
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Staring out at the living room floor, Blue saw a sight she never thought she would live to see: Marian playing with her grandson on the floor. It was unsettling, in an uncanny-valley way. Something so close to resembling human but just short of enough. She spun her engagement ring back and forth on her finger. He slid his arm around her waist. “’You okay?” She glanced up to the man stood at her side. His dark hair gathered into a short, thick ponytail. Eyes as bright as ever. Smile as devilish. Would it be so wrong to fuck like animals with her mother in the room next to them? After all, to a married couple, sex was the most natural thing. Or so she'd heard. “Yeah,” Blue sighed. Hugged her arms around herself. “I think so,” “How long is she staying?” “Until she can get the settlement money from Bradley,” “I didn’t think he had any left,” “It’s all
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It could have been hours by the time Blue came to. Usually, the state of her coffee would be a good indicator, but it had been stone cold for god knows how long. The sun was still up, if that counted for anything. She had left her phone at the house. Vincent was with the baby. She had stolen herself away for some quiet at the very café she had shared with both Vincent and Richard. Sat staring at her right hand where the engagement ring of the latter sat without a band. What was he doing? A thought that crossed her mind often. She hadn’t heard from him after the verdict, though still awaiting the sentencing. She had the thought that he was arrested for assaulting a police officer after his fiasco of escaping custody in the courtroom. Christopher wouldn’t have set any bail, would he? Not after he pretended to have been oblivious to his son’s sins. It would be hard to act surprised if he was actively helping his son as someone ought to. Vincent
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Blue stared at the city; Vincent stood at the counter behind her. The windowsill seemed to share her most pivotal moments more than even the universe shared them with her. Though her grief was one of the poorer-kept secrets of the world she felt marginally better whispering her thoughts to the brittle pane. Just as she felt gratitude Vincent had kept the apartment they’d outgrown with the baby for nostalgia’s sake. Or to bolster his net worth. Either one.She was muttering the same three words over and over. Repeated hoping that enough times would unencumber her or the rage that swelled with each inhale to expel them. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate… The world?“I should write him a very strongly worded letter.” She glanced to her husband, the man fiddling with a steaming tea as though debating which moment would be safest to present it to his wife. “But
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“It is found,” Blue glanced up at her husband, her arse feeling rather sore from the wooden bench. They had been sat in court for what ought to have been five hours at that point. The room smelt of wood varnish and stale air, having the look about it of a church with generous natural light and the buzz of Catholic choir. Only the silence rattled through much the same way any prayer would. “That the Commonwealth has proven beyond a reasonable doubt,” She had stared at the back of Richard’s head the whole time, if only hoping he would meet her eyes for just a second. She feared he thought no one in the room was on his side, a feeling she had become well-acquainted with over the years. Nothing seemed more dreadful than being carted off to prison with that same feeling. How strange it was to think that the man she was so sure she would murder given the chance had sat on the living room floor playing with her son just a day or two before. Staring into her husband’s deep green eyes, she w
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“So, I have a question,” Blue reached for her coffee, eyeing her maid. Well, she wasn’t her maid anymore. She was her mother-in-law. It was complicated. Pregnancy had somehow made her even fonder of coffee, maybe because she hadn’t had it. “Why did you tell me not to stay with Vincent when I told you I was pregnant if he was your son this whole time?” She couldn’t help but smile at her own sentence, taking a long gulp of the latte that had since gone flat. Vincent stared between the two silently. It was news to him.“I thought he was going to prison,” She simply shrugged. It was a good enough answer. Blue wasn’t sure whether Anya—Alfonza, as she had come to know—liked her all that much. “I thought I was doing what was best for everyone,”“So, you tell my wife to leave me?” Then came her husband’s booming voice, deep and accented. Ho
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Blue stared at the deep purple wrap dress in the mirror, sleeves to her elbows. Loosened the strings around her waist and tightened the knot again as though it would magically make her thinner. She was yet to properly mourn her pre-baby figure. She looked like a rectangle. A bloated, lumpy rectangle. Or so she thought quietly to herself. She tore the dress over her head.“I think we’ve found a winner,” Vincent entered the wardrobe quietly. Tried his best not to gawk at the woman in her underwear as though he’d never seen her half-naked before. Failed miserably. Wrapped his arms around her middle instead and pressed his mouth to hers. But she shoved him away. Turned back to the clothes instead.“We can’t do this, we’ll be late,” though she spoke as firmly as she could, she couldn’t help but smile softly to herself and blush as she leafed through her clothes without looking. The idea of let
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“It’s not fair, why can’t I go with Richard?” Vincent dug his heels in as he stopped behind his mother. Hoped a childish frown would move her enough to let her son be with his only friend. “I’m not a child anymore,”“I’ve seen the awful lot Richard hangs out with, you can either help me out for the rest of the day or go to the deli with your father,”“I’m a vegetarian.” He spoke expressionlessly.“Housekeeping it is!” Alfonza sounded a bit too cheerful for Vincent’s liking. Was it too late to call back the Taxi that had brought him straight from school? “Now find somewhere quiet to sit, I shouldn’t be any longer than an hour,”“I’ve got homework tonight, Ma.”“Then do your work here,” She smiled again. A bit too cheerful. Aga
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Her skirt was over her stomach in a matter of seconds, underwear kicked beneath the bed. Heart racing, fingertips beating in the tips of her fingers curled up into her palms, Blue spread her legs with no further instruction. Released a long, shaky breath as her husband hooked her legs over his shoulders and breathed into the inside of her thigh. But she stared at the roof. Watched the shadow cast by the lamp behind him loom over her, growing in size as he neared. And all she could feel was his hot, damp exhale fanning her center; his opened mouth quick to follow. “I still can’t believe I’m your wife.” She grumbled the words quietly, arching her back as his lips closed around her and his teeth grazed her labia. “I’m a lucky man.” He grumbled back, his voice twisting through her and carrying its echo deep into her stomach. “I can’t believe that you were so adamant you never wanted to see me again after your birthday party and now you’ve got your pussy i
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“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’
