Maggie, wife of Harold, trots past him wearing a black cocktail dress that stops inches under her bottom and exposes her raised cleavage. She checks herself out in the standing mirror to make sure her bun is neatly in place, high at the crown on her head and walks right past her husband again. He doesn’t raise his eyes from his cell phone. Maggie stands before him for five minutes waiting for him to say something about her appearance. Unfortunately, Harold’s only movement since she walked into the bedroom was a grunt towards a video playing on his phone.
She suddenly slaps him so hard he is briefly taken out of his body until the burning sensation of her hand print against his cheek brings him back from being stunned. Maggie places her hand on her hips and watches her husband register the past second.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Harold growls and gawks at his wife in complete bewilderment.
Maggie folds her arms across her chest, leans her weight against one leg, and returns a look with raised eyebrows and clenched jaw. He touches the spot where she slapped him, wondering if she broke the skin and caused him to bleed. Anger begins to boil within him and the longer she stands there staring at him with an attitude, the more furious Harold is becoming. He stomps towards her and grabs onto Maggie’s arms.
“Don’t you ever put you hands on me again!”
She cowers within herself like a terrified kitten as tears fill her eyes. Harold releases her with a hard shove and checks his face in the mirror. Only then, looking at her reflection he sees that she is dressed up.
“Where are you going.”
“Out!” Maggie yells. “I’m leaving you.”
“Leaving me?” Harold retorts. “Where?”
“To my moms, a friend. I don’t know. Maybe another man since you don’t seem to care about me?”
“What?” Harold huffs. Careful to not mess up her makeup, Maggie pats away tears with a piece of tissue before they could stream down her cheeks. When she is upset or cries, the tip of her pointed nose always turns from caramel to cherry red.
Harold leans against the dresser and stuffs his hands into his pocket. “So you’re going to leave me? For what?” He questions.
“Because you don’t care.” Maggie responds.
“Care about what?”
“Me. I walk around you and you say nothing. You don’t even look at me.”
“I know you’re going out, babe. I’m not going to stop you either. If you want to go then-
“That’s not what I want, Harold!” Maggie shouts. She raises her hand in the hair and extends her index, middle, and ring finger. “Three words, Harold. That’s all I want to hear. But you never say it. I never hear you say it anymore.”
“Babe.” Harold takes a step towards his wife and holds out his hands for her to take. She turns away from him. “I’m so-…” No, that’s not it. He’s apologized to her on numerous occasions like not taking out the trash, washing the dishes, or cleaning after himself.
“I love- Harold pauses before the last word could slip out. He said he loved her this morning after having a nightmare of her leaving him for someone else. What was the three words she wanted him to say? Want some money? She needed cash to hang out with her friends. Can I come? No, Maggie knows he hates clubs. Harold looks up at his wife once more. She looks at him and sees the corners of his mouth curl.
“You look beautiful.” He says softly.
Maggie smiles, wraps her arms around Harold’s neck, and gives him a soft kiss.
