The Girls Of Mischief Bay. Susan Mallery
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in the basket by her side of the sofa. The ones she’d gotten through would go into recycling. Lulu, curled up in her bed on the other end of the sofa, raised her head, as if asking if it was time.
“Ten o’clock, baby girl.”
Lulu stood and stretched. Ten o’clock was the phrase that meant “last time to pee before morning” or however the dog translated it in her head.
John got out of his recliner—because yes, they were that couple. The ones with a recliner in the family room. At least they weren’t at the stage of having two recliners. John had suggested it, but Pam knew she wasn’t ready. She was sure the time would come, but not today.
“You going to take her out?” he asked, which he did every night.
Pam wanted to ask when he let the dog out. Not that he wouldn’t if she asked. But the routine was him asking and her doing it.
How did things like that happen? she wondered. How did people get stuck in ruts? It must be part of the human condition—a need to not think about everything, maybe. So the brain found routines and being in a routine was oddly comfortable. Until it became a rut, at which point it wasn’t comfortable anymore.
Pam smiled at her husband. It wasn’t his fault she was thinking too much these days. “I’ll take her out.”
John nodded and walked past her. As he did, he paused to lightly pat her butt.
She would guess he didn’t even know he was doing it. That if she mentioned it, he would look at her blankly. Which was so like him, and mostly endearing. It was yet another routine. A signal that the outside observer would never catch, but that a wife of thirty years knew intimately.
Later, when he finished in the bathroom, he would look at her expectantly. The question would hang in the air until she nodded and said something along the lines of “I’d like to.” Because the butt pat was John’s signal that he was interested in sex that night.
Pam and Lulu walked to the back door. She opened it for her little dog, then waited while Lulu took care of business. They walked back to the bedroom.
When Steven had moved out, they’d done a remodel of the rear of the house. They’d expanded the master and added a second bathroom, while redoing the first. They’d also enlarged the closet. Pam didn’t mind sharing any part of her life, but she’d always wanted a completely girly bathroom and a few years ago, she’d gotten it.
There was a huge shower with a built-in bench so she could shave her legs easily. She had an oversize tub, a single sink with long countertops on both sides and as much storage as the makeup department at Macy’s.
John’s bathroom suited his needs, as well. There was a TV so he wouldn’t miss any part of a game if he had to pee, a steam shower and a vanity that was several inches higher than usual.
Now she went into the closet and pulled out the drawer designated for Lulu’s pj stash. The little dog had already gone over to the bed and used the pet stairs to make it onto the high mattress. Pam selected a soft T-shirt—pink, of course.
“All right, little girl,” she said softly as she sat on the bed.
Lulu dropped her head as Pam removed the light sweater. The garment slid off easily. Then Pam held out the T-shirt. Lulu stuck her head through the opening and raised her left front leg to step into the arm hole. She always tried to do the right one, too, but usually missed. Pam got her shirt on. Lulu went up to the decorative pillows on the bed and burrowed in behind them, where she would stay until the humans got into bed.
Pam retreated to her bathroom where she removed her makeup, applied three kinds of serums and creams, then brushed her teeth. As she performed the familiar rituals, she tried to think sexy thoughts to get herself into the mood. But she couldn’t seem to summon any energy about it.
Sex with John was fine, but it wasn’t exciting anymore. She remembered how it had been at the beginning. The thrill of seeing him naked. The constant need to make love. How every touch had been arousing. Time and familiarity made that difficult to maintain. Add to that three kids and busy lives and it just wasn’t the same.
But she loved him and wanted him to know that. While the words were always welcome, he also needed her to desire him. Something she’d figured out the second decade of their marriage when she’d been caught up in the exhaustion that came from having three active kids in the house.
She slipped on her nightgown and returned to the bedroom.
John was already there, sitting up, reading. He wore reading glasses—something that he’d resisted until any kind of printed material had become impossible. Lulu was on his lap. When she spotted Pam, she jumped up and came over to her side.
She put the dog in her bed in the corner. John put down his glasses and e-reader, then flipped back the covers and patted the mattress invitingly.
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