“ I’M TRYING HERE NICK ! “ i don’t know why i am. i don’t know why i bother with him. no longer do i feel like the cool wife. i’m the old wife, the nagging wife, the boring wife … and doesn’t he make sure i KNOW it. “ you could at least try to do the SAME. “ i’m on the bed putting on my shoes, readying myself for another day filled with battles. this is us now, this is our marriage. we’re the kind of couple i’ve always hated - the kind we used to laugh at together. some may call it karma but i just call it nick dunne cheating on his wife. he doesn’t know that i know … but i do. i know fine well that it’s my husband who has turned us into this married stereotype. “ or at least pretend to try ━━ pretend that you STILL love me. “
light hues focused on that beautiful skull as it moved so fluidly, so carefully with each action. how awful it was that over the past few months, those thoughts had returned though more palpable than before – what would be revealed if i cracked that beautiful skull?
as i shifted through the coils of my wife’s beautiful albeit clever brain, would those primal questions that storm clouded above most marriages be answered?
most husbands did not envision that sort of macabre imagery. those normal husbands nodded and smiled, apologized and professed adoration. maybe the new york nick dunne might have been more subservient and obliged ( “pretend? i don’t need to pretend, amy! i love you down to your very core.” ). but not me. my attention was focused elsewhere though not on the essentials such as my job or the bar. no, it was focused completely upon the depraved actions committed nights ago whilst in the presence of his mistress. such a nasty, awful word to describe a woman. but most would believe it fitting, would they not? after all, andie had stolen all the love that should have been provided to my wife.
❝ i am trying! ❞ a response akin to a child in the throes of a tantrum. all mental strength devoted to the suppression of laughter. how awful amy might have perceived me if – instead of conversation – i offered little more than laughter? the temptation existed, but i could not bring myself to commit. for as much as i had grown to loathe our marriage, i would not stoop to the level wherein my father had resided until the divorce.
❝ what do you want me to do, amy? i can’t help that i’m busy. between the classes at the college, working at the bar. ❞ i made certain to avoid mentioning that fucking the brains out of my student had been an addition to my sudden withdrawal from my wife’s affections.
❝ i thought you were happy, amy. maybe i have been too busy if i wasn’t able to see that you’re miserable. ❞