Chad
The next day I woke up with my neck twisted to hell and my whole body aching from scrunching my tall frame to fit on the foot of the bed.
Bitsy, meanwhile, had moved back to the top of the bed and was spread out like a starfish.
Things should be back to normal. But they didn’t feel back to normal.
When we finally found my car again, unfortunately I had parked in the wrong spot, and the vehicle had slid down a bank and into the swamp.
“Sorry, baby, I fucked up there.”
Bitsy only said, “if a MAN did it, how can it be a mistake?” and called a towing company to take care of it while we headed to the airport.
“Bitsy, please, you know I don’t like this robot wife shit,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Don’t you?” she asked sweetly.
And it was even worse on the plane.
Before we sat down, Bitsy produced a handkerchief and wiped off my seat, drinks table, and armrests.
“Here you go, your lordship,” she said again. “I hope it is all to your liking. I live only to serve you.”
Everyone stared at me like I was a total monster in ill-fitting overalls, and I tried to laugh it off, licking dry lips.
“Ha ha ha,” I croaked. “My wife is a real comedian.”
“Bitsy—please—”
“Not enough?” she cried. “Well, Chadley, I’m very sorry but I tried to prepare the seat for you. I did my best.”
“Oh, honey,” several other passengers cried, an older lady clicking her tongue in disgust at me, while the man behind me kicked my seat in a menacing fashion.
And it was just the same when I got home. Bitsy refused to get out of her robot wife persona and show me anything of her real self.
I tried everything I could to get my wife back but it was to no avail.
My throat was raw with begging, pleading for a second chance, but Bitsy only flicked a duster over me.
The next day there was a staff meeting and usually Mr. Van Buren used this as a thinly-veiled excuse for jostling for position.
Seeing who had the more cutting takedowns of each other.
Pontificating about how it was best to pump out 3-5 babies before age 30 so the C-suite executives knew our seed could stick.
But I wasn’t in the mood for him or his jokes.
“Got all that settled at home?” he asked, his beady little eyes gleaming at me. “Really showed that little lady who is boss? Women are good little creatures really. Pat on the ass and a kind word or two and they’ll do exactly what you want.”
I had to bite my tongue not to snap back that I didn’t think any amount of pats on the ass was going to fix this with Bitsy, and in fact, they’d only make things worse.
Could I really do this? Would he get off my ass once I was VP? Or was I going to hear this shit in perpetuity?
I went to the Sloppy Joe on my lunch break, just to reassure myself that Bitsy was still there.
And because, frankly, I felt even grosser than usual after hearing all Mr. Van Buren’s jokes.
It was one thing to tune them out and focus on work. But now after my colossal fuck-up? Hearing any of it made me want to puke.
To my astonishment, Zach was there in front of me, cradling an extremely tiny yappy little poodle and holding a sign that said A WOMAN’S PLACE IS IN THE SENATE.
“What the fuck are you doing here, punk?” I hissed, and he whirled around to display this dog absolutely cut and pampered to the nines. It looked like a tiny little ice cream sundae.
“What do you think I’m doing, bro? Talking about the real need for women’s liberation around here.”
“Since when do you even have a dog?”
“Since today. She’s a purebred toy poodle.”
“My husband doesn’t believe in women’s liberation,” Bitsy said in her sweet voice. “So I’ll have to ask for permission to talk to you.”
And, to my horror, she winked at Zach.
What the hell?
“He’s a brute and a savage,” Zach said. “I and my extremely cute dog will have to be in here a lot.”
“I’m afraid I can’t cheat on my husband,” Bitsy said. “Much as I might want to. I’m just too good of a little wifey for that.”
“Get the hell out of here,” I hissed to Zach, but he only smirked at me. Angrily, I grabbed this douche by the collar and dragged him outside, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Man, I heard you split with Bitsy,” he protested, banging on the window as he and the dog both glared at me.
“NO! We’re never splitting up!”
“Bitsy, you’ve—you’ve got the wrong idea about me,” I whispered urgently at her. “You know that shit is not me. It’s just work shit!”
“I thought I knew you,” said Bitsy, suddenly in a very frosty voice. “Apparently I don’t, because the man I know would never have asked me to be small just to please your boss. Why the hell are you working here anyway, if he’s so horrible?”
“I—” I floundered. “Well, you know I don’t agree with him!”
She shrugged and turned back to where she was stacking up a pile of diner menus.
“Sounds like you don’t actually care that much.”
“Baby, please. Want to go get a coffee?”
My stomach was wracked with anxiety and nerves. How could I fix this? How could I get my wife back?
“No, thank you, Chadley. Maybe another time. I’m very busy right now.”
Since there were exactly two old men here, this was obvious bullshit, but I had no option but to go, unless I wanted to chain myself to the table.
There was a little smirk on Zach’s face as I walked out the door that I wanted to punch off his smug mug.
“What the hell was that all about?” I demanded when we were back in the elevator.
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I patronize this lovely diner that’s right in the same building?”
“Find another diner,” I said between gritted teeth. “Stop going around talking about women’s rights to Bitsy.”
“No, man, I don’t think I will.”
“Is that even your dog?”
“Nah, it’s my sister’s. But it’s a real chick magnet.”
“Are you trying to make a move on my wife?”
“Bro, if I’m able to make a move on your wife, don’t you think that means you fucked up? Maybe you should reflect on that.”
When I had no response, he snorted and made a mock bowing gesture as we reached our floor.
“After you, idiot.”
“You always said she would cost me the promotion! Why were you saying that shit about her if you wanted her so badly?”
Zack laughed heartily. “That was just opsec, man. Who in their right mind would ever dump Bitsy? She’s every man’s dream woman.”
“Stay away from my wife,” I warned, straightening my tie again and going back inside.
Well, as much as I hated to admit it.
Zach might be an asshole but he was right about one thing.
It had all been my own damn fault.
Only I had no idea how to fix it.