Chapter Twelve Joel in the Doghouse
Quinn cleaned up her bedroom and ensuite and debated painting and changing the colours while making the bed with an older comforter set. Maybe go with something brighter than the current forest green. Hearing the door open, she glanced at the clock. After ten. Wow. He was barely trying to hide it now. She walked out to find her husband painfully removing his shoes.
“Dinner is in the microwave.” She leaned on the wall, biting her tongue so she wouldn't smile at his pain.
“Thanks.” He straightened up with a groan and came over to kiss her cheek. “Sorry, I'm so late. I had trouble staying seated for long periods; it took me forever to finish my paperwork.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor; make sure you haven't done any damage.” She suggested, trying to sound reasonably concerned.
“Maybe.” He nodded in agreement. “Could you make an appointment for me?”
“Or you could, considering you're a forty-year-old man, and I'm not your mother.” She rolled her eyes. She was expected to handle everything in the household. Appointments, bills, the calendar. She was over it.
Joel moved slowly into the kitchen. “You always do that stuff. I don't even know the name of the clinic we go to, just where it is.”
Quinn followed him to a small, built-in desk at the end of the counter, opened the drawer, and pulled out an address book. “All the important numbers are in here,” she said, laying the book on top of the desk. I suggest you put them in your phone.”
Joel paused from removing the tin foil from the plate and looked up at her with a frown. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it's what adults do?” Quinn raised her eyebrow. “Independent, self-sufficient adults anyway.”
Joel put the plate in the microwave and turned it on. “Why does it feel like you're preparing me to be single?”
“I don't know, Joel, why would I do that?” She rolled her eyes. “I moved all your things to the spare room. You'll be sleeping in there going forward.”
“What? No! That bed is too uncomfortable!” His face turned red as he spun to stare at her. “You're the one who decided we need to sleep separately; you sleep in there.”
“If the bed is that uncomfortable, the one from my bedroom is in the garage. Move it in there.” She shrugged. “And you made this decision. You just decided not to communicate it with me.”
“You bought a new bedroom set? Why?”
“I wanted one. A fresh start.” She smiled at his clear confusion.
“Quinn, come on.” Joel sighed as the microwave beeped and turned to take out his food. “Don't do this.”
“What am I doing exactly?” She yawned. “Shutting you out? Ignoring you? Making you feel like I don't want to be in this marriage?”
“YES!” He shouted angrily. Seeing her eyebrow go up and the defensive stance she adopted, he immediately modified his voice. “Yes, that's exactly what you're doing.”
“And how does that make you feel? Scared? Unloved? Hurt? Rejected? Angry? Embarrassed? Please share with the class here, Joel; I'm dying for you to tell me.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, and she knew she was being passive-aggressive but didn’t care enough to modify her tone or words.
Too late, Joel realized he had walked into a trap. “Quinn... Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you feel that way.”
“But you did. And when I told you that was what you were doing, you continued to do it despite promising me things will change. And since you couldn't be bothered to make those changes, I've started making my own. The first change was no more Sunday dinners. The second is you moving to the spare room. Starting tomorrow, you have to start fending for yourself; I'm not cooking for you or making your appointments. We are three weeks into you promising you would change without putting a single ounce of effort into it, so there are three consequences. Next week, there will be another one, and if you haven't made changes by the first of June, you will get a thirty-day eviction notice and divorce papers.”
Joel swallowed. “It's a rough patch, that's all. I have a lot going on at work. I haven't made sales lately, and I'm not getting my commissions. But I promise I'll do better. We can work through this; it's not even half as bad as the last time we were fighting, and we got through that.”
“We got through that because you made an effort without me asking you to. You showed genuine remorse, spent months rebuilding my trust, and made me feel like you wanted to be with me. Do I have to be hospitalized again for you to take me seriously?” Quinn folded her arms and stared at him, wondering how he could be so two-faced.
Joel's face became solemn. “You are still eating, right?” His eyes swept her body, and he reached for her shirt, pulling it up and studying her ribs. He breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled away and yanked it back down. “Don't make jokes about that, Quinn. Fuck!” He slammed his hand down on the counter and took several deep breaths. Quinn watched him in confusion. Where was this coming from?”
“Yes, I'm still eating.” She said quietly. “I wasn't joking or making threats. I was trying to point out that you only seem to care when I've reached a crisis point.”
“I care, Quinn! Seeing you lying in that hospital bed with a tube in your nose, hooked up to all those machines monitoring your heart, knowing it was my fault you were there... I can't go through that again. I won't go through that again.” He shook his head. “You have to stay healthy.”
A piece slid into place for her. He was afraid she'd relapse, and it would be his fault again. Yeah, his standard of living was important to him, but he didn't want to live with the guilt of her getting sick again because of his actions. Considering he wasn't showing any signs of wanting to give up the affair, she knew he would go on living his double life for as long as he could get away with it, and that knowledge hardened her heart. “I'm fine. I'm eating. I haven't even restricted myself in two years. As a matter of fact, Wednesday is the second anniversary, and I've booked a couple of bowling lanes at Lucky Strike Fenway to celebrate. Quill, Rilla, Bishop, and Tenn are going. I also invited Viki, and you're welcome to join us.”
“I'm welcome to join you. Well, thanks so much for the invite, Quinn.” The sarcasm made Quinn narrow her eyes dangerously.
“I booked the lanes this morning and invited people in the order I spoke to them today. I asked Rilla this morning at work, and she confirmed for her and Bishop. I saw Quill at lunch, and Tenn came over this evening to work on our project, so I invited him and Viki to join us. You were still asleep when I left this morning, and you don't like it when I interrupt you at work. I know you like bowling, which is why I chose it, so you'd have some incentive to come, but I also know you don't really like my friends, so I'm giving you an option of coming or not.”
“I thought you had an HOA meeting on Wednesday?” He looked almost hopeful, and Quinn was confused until she remembered about Viki’s Porsche in front of Anita’s house.
“Yeah, at four. Bowling is at six.” She covered quickly as she went to the fridge and pulled out the cheesecake. It was in the back of her mind throughout the entire conversation, and she wanted another piece. “Are you coming?”
“Tenn and Viki are going?”
“Tenn is, and he's going to extend the invite to Viki but said she probably won't come.” She shrugged. “The museum-approved our project, in case you were curious.” She injected the same amount of sarcasm into her voice as he had into his.
“What about the library?” She could hear faint hope in his voice again and wondered if it was for or against the project.
“The library already approved it when I brought the idea to them. We had to modify my proposal when we made it longer.” She grabbed a spoon and scooped some cheesecake into a bowl.
“That's great, Babe.” She watched him struggle for a minute. “I'm really proud of you.” He cleared his throat. “No chance of you rubbing icy hot on my back again, is there?” He put his dishes in the dishwasher and frowned when he saw the extra plates and glasses.
Quinn had a moment of indecision, but he was in a lot of pain judging by how he moved. “Yeah, come on.” She led the way down the hall and into the spare room; finding the box of bathroom supplies, she dug into it and found the muscle relaxers and icy hot. Joel walked in behind her and frowned.
“Wow.” He muttered as he looked around. The spare bedroom had a small, three-piece ensuite off it, but it was smaller than the master. Putting the queen bed in there instead of the double would limit his space. “You were busy.”
“Yes.” She said shortly, holding out two muscle relaxers. He took them from her and pulled off his shirt. Quinn rubbed the icy hot in, and he let out a low moan when she hit a particularly sore spot on his spine. She poked it, and he jumped, moving away. “You need to make a doctor's appointment.” She murmured. Finishing up, she stood up to go, and Joel reached for her hand.
“Stay.” His voice was soft and pleading, but Quinn felt her stomach roll, and bile rose up in her throat, making her swallow hard.
“No thanks.” She frowned and pulled free. “Good night.”
He sighed. “You're not giving me much incentive, Babe.”
She stopped at the door, looked over her shoulder and laughed. “Because you've given me so much.”