14. Theo
FOURTEEN
THEO
Once again, we’re two strangers merely hovering over each other.
We’re sitting on the couch, me on my side with Clara tucked against my chest, watching some stupid romantic comedy she picked out. Every now and then, she twists in my arms and kisses me, smiling fondly before turning back to the movie.
I should be paying attention to Clara and the movie, spending the quality time she asked for together, but my mind is somewhere else instead.
It’s on the way Matteo adorably frowned today when I beat him at his new game. He had been so upset about losing, those luscious brows of his wrinkling in the center with annoyance. He had pushed me when I teased him about it, and we ended up in a shoving match like two college kids. He put me onto my back, hovered on top of me, and?—
Nothing happened between us. It’s not like I wanted it to happen in the first place. We were having some fun and joking around, spending time together, and relaxing after planning the Fall Festival. There’s no way I have any actual feelings for Matteo, and if I did, it’d probably just be hero worship or gratitude for being my friend.
That’s what I keep telling myself.
But then why do I keep thinking about him in the darkest hours of the night while my beautiful wife is probably thinking of me?
Why do I stand in the shower, mere feet away from Clara where she lays in bed, itching to touch myself to the memory of Matteo’s hands on me?
Why do I constantly wonder what his lips would feel like? What would it be like to just lean forward one day—to have a taste—so I could get it out of my system?
“Theo?”
I blink myself out of my haze, face flushing red. There’s an irritated pitch to her voice, and I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed. “Y-Yeah?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” she questions, turning in my arms, a frown on her lips. “I asked you a question.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “I zoned out for a second.”
She furrows her brows. “What were you thinking about?”
Yeah, there’s no way I’m telling her about… No. Just no. It’s just a silly infatuation. Just me fixating because I’ve never had a real friend. Not just that but it would open the door to the little things I’ve been keeping from her, well, the thing I’ve been keeping from her.
My friendship with Matteo.
Our little secret.
“Nothing,” I tell her, trying to smile as genuinely as I can. I look over her shoulder at the television. “So, what did I miss?” When she doesn’t answer, I look back down and am surprised by the sheer annoyance on her face. “What?”
“Why won’t you tell me what you’re thinking?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. “Just tell me.”
I gulp. Why is she pressing? “I…”
“You know, you don’t tell me things anymore,” she says, sitting up and forcing me to go with her.
“Clara, I just zoned out.” I’m only partially lying as I shake my head at her. “It’s not a big deal.”
“But it is, Theo. Don’t you see that?” She presses her fingers against her temples, closing her eyes as she lets out a deep breath. “You know what? Let’s just finish the movie and go to bed.”
I know that I should do as she says, but now I’m the one growing irritated. I’m irritated that everything between us is just shoved under the rug. I’m the biggest hypocrite on the planet, but she’s pissing me off. Her tone, her demeanor, the way she angrily settles back in my arms, it all sort of tips me off a cliff I didn’t realize I was standing on. “No, say what you were going to say.”
She turns again and raises a brow at me. “So now you want to talk?”
“I want you to say what you were thinking.”
“Why should I tell you if you won’t say shit to me?”
“What the hell, Clara?” I mutter, moving her gently away so I can stand. “I swear…”
She jumps to her feet as well, crossing her arms over her chest. “You swear, what? What is it, Theo? Are we finally going to have a real conversation?”
“It’s like you’re asking for a fight!” I yell, throwing my hands in the air. “Is that what you want from me, Clara? You want me to fight with you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know what the fuck I want from you anymore!” she shouts back, reaching for the remote and clicking off the television.
“What is that supposed to mean?” She turns and goes toward the stairs, and my jaw drops. “Clara! Don’t walk away from me!”
“This is obviously not going to be a productive talk!” she screams over her shoulder. “So, I’m going to bed!”
I march up the stairs right behind her, opening the door she slams shut. “You wanted to talk, let’s talk.”
She yanks off her shirt, throwing it in the corner as she starts working off her bra. “Well, I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Clara, don’t start that shit. You obviously have something you want to say.” I don’t curse at my wife. I’ve never cursed at my wife, but am I the unreasonable one here? “Let’s just?—”
But I’m immediately cut off when she slams her lips against mine. I’m not prepared for the way she jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, my hands immediately grabbing her ass to support her.
It’s like I’m stuck on startled, giving into her angry kisses, and walking her toward our dresser. Before I know it, my hands are in her hair, digging at the strands. We’re about to have hate sex right now, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
“Theo,” she moans, throwing her head back when I bite down on her neck. “Fuck, yes.”
Something’s not right .
She reaches for my pants.
This isn’t what you want.
No, it has to be. I need it to be. I have to do this.
You need to stop.
Her hand brushes against my cock and it’s a splash of cold water.
I stumble away from her, hands trembling, mind at war, completely hating everything about myself.
Clara’s breathless, lips red and swollen, eyes expectant and hungry as she stares at me. Years ago, I would have fucked her into the dresser. Years ago, I would have loved some angry makeup sex. Years ago, I would have been aching for her, so full of love I couldn’t control myself.
But I just can’t. I can’t do it. I don’t know why, and I loathe myself for it, but this is just something…
No.
“Theo?” she asks, hands reaching for me. “Come back.”
I shake my head. “I think we should go to bed.”
“W-what?” she stutters, jaw dropping. “You… We were just about to?—”
“I know, but I’m tired,” I rush out, spinning away from her, feeling like I’m crawling out of my skin. “It was a long day at work.”
“What the actual fuck?” I look over my shoulder to see her jump off the dresser. “We’re just going to stop?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You were in the mood three seconds ago.”
“Clara—”
“We haven’t had sex in a year!” The way her voice cracks shows all the pain she’s feeling. Her face falls, frustrated tears in her eyes as she reaches for a shirt to cover her chest. “Do you not find me attractive anymore?”
“What? That’s not true,” I genuinely say. Clara is the most beautiful woman in the world to me. She’s entirely physically desirable. This is a me issue, this is my fault, and she has nothing to do with it. “I don’t… I’m sorry.”
She looks to her left, tears still in her eyes. “We’re always saying we’re sorry to each other. Have you noticed that?”
I have and it’s because there’s nothing left to say. I’m sorry for eating breakfast without you. I’m sorry for bumping into you. I’m sorry for not doing the dishes.
I’m sorry I can’t have sex with you. I’m sorry I can’t find the spark anymore. I’m sorry I don’t want to have a baby.
At what point do apologies become meaningless? To what extent can you say those words until your life is just filled with empty spaces where action should have taken place?
When do you apologize for simply existing together?
“I think I’m going to go to my mom’s tonight,” she whispers, still not looking at me.
I take a step toward her, reaching out, but stop at the last minute. She doesn’t need my touch right now. I don’t know what good it would do, but I know I don’t want her walking alone at this hour. “No, stay. I’ll just take a walk.”
She nods slowly, sniffling a bit as she turns to go to the bathroom. “Okay.”
I can’t leave it like this. I take long strides to reach her, spinning her in my arms so I can cup her face. “Clara, you know I love you, right?”
Because I do. It might not be like I used to, but love is still there. I… I must love her, right? She’s my wife. All these years together mean something.
She doesn’t meet my eyes as she nods again. “I know. I love you too, Theo.”
But the words sound just as empty and hollow as they felt when I said them.
I let her go into the bathroom as I leave our room. I snag my phone and wallet from the counter, grabbing my coat because it’s too cold now to go out without one. I go to reach for the door when I realize there’s only one person I need right now. I take out my phone, fingers flying against the keys faster than ever.
Me: Can we meet?