An Indecent Obsession. Mudrooroo
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over not being able to get her application approved to study for her Ph.D. and he added, staring up at me though those half lens reading glasses he affected, ‘there are also personal problems.’ I replied: ‘Well, what is wrong with her exactly.’ And he answered as doctors do to lay people: ‘I presume there is an aggravation of her cervical Spondylosis due to muscular contractions secondary to her distress and posture.’ ‘Is that all,’ I cried. ‘Well, there are problems, she obviously is an unhappy woman and needs more attention.’
I tried to give it to her and when I mentioned what the doctor had said, she retorted that yes, she did have neck pains which brought on terrific headaches and if I really loved her, I wouldn’t bother her so much. I did not retort that I helped around the house which meant doing practically everything, including the cooking. Her problems worsened after our little talk. Often I came home to find her lying in the darkened bedroom with a hot compress on her neck.
Not content with Dr. Arclay’s professional opinion, I went to another of her doctor’s. Dr. Kettle. He too was given to jargon, but to the suffering husband he translated that she had come to him suffering from chronic lower back pain and that x-rays taken of her cervical spine indicated some muscular tension.’ ‘So there is basically nothing wrong with her,’ I replied. ‘Well, you can’t say that,’ he replied with a smile. ‘You know, women?’ And it was he that prescribed the Prozac.
She had always complained of back problems and this meant that I did not try to get her to adopt difficult positions in the bedroom, or even simpler ones such as bending over while I fucked her from behind. She claimed that this was what she liked best of all which, in practice, meant while lying outstretched on the bed. I rapidly grew bored with this and to give myself variety I got her to assume the top position, which would not aggravate her supposed back injuries. The Kama Sutra described this position as the most enjoyable for men. I did find it more satisfying than sprawling on my hands and knees and banging away at her passive cunt. With her in the dominate role, I could also reach up to grab her breasts and even watch my penis entering and leaving as she raised and lowered her body. She became quite adept at this position, sometimes facing me and at other times turning towards my feet. In it she could manipulate her vagina as much as she wished to ensure the maximum pleasure, still she complained about my not being on top, though when I did assume the missionary position, she soon returned to the reverse. I couldn’t understand it, but then her back pain aggravated and with her headaches any positions were few and far between.
It wasn’t long before she suggested that I sleep apart from her as she was too restless in bed with the pain and kept me awake. I protested, but she spoke in that little girl voice of hers she affected when she wanted a favor granted and I gave in, though being upset at being denied the marital bed. Elaine had never ever forced me from our bed. In fact, it would have been a sign that we were drifting apart, and after that last blow job, when I did sleep on the sofa, it was then that she told me to go. And now with Darlene , to please her I slept on the futon which I kept in my home office to have a rest when I needed to relax from my work. Now came an increasing lack of affection. Once, in the kitchen I caressed her behind in passing and she said that I had no respect for her. I even used to wander naked about the house and once, she told me to put some clothes on.
Of course, all this did not mean that we gave up sex entirely. A few times, she led me to her bed and when I say led I mean it, taking my hand much like a prostitute takes the hand of her client. I found it somewhat distressing, but well, it was something. I tried to talk about our problems once or twice, but she had taken to eating her meals in front of the television, watching inane American sitcoms and there was no space for serious conversation.
So this was the background to my marriage when I came home from work that Monday afternoon to find her gone. Our relationship was not of best, but still I became distraught and prowled the house like a caged beast. I imagined all sorts of things, mainly bloody. I rang the hospitals in case she had had an accident. I visualized her lying there inert and passive with drips entering her veins. No Darlene Davis and no one answering her description. I went back into the kitchen to make a sandwich, but couldn’t. How could I eat when my wife might be lying injured?
Then on the kitchen counter, I saw the list she had made of the things to take on her camping weekend. I took it into the sitting room, sat on the sofa and studied it. There were listed: tent, sleeping bag, Rid (by which she meant insect repellent, a brand name), togs, shorts, sarong, mozzie coils, sunscreen and lastly hat. This certainly indicated that she had gone on the camping trip with her brother, or perhaps someone else. I couldn’t prevent the thought from arising. I examined the sheet further and saw a series of parallel lines around the list which might be the coast of the island, but below that was another doodle. A series of concentric circles around a raised centre which as I stared resolved into the head of a penis and the whole doodle resolved itself into a vagina about a penis. I studied it for what seemed hours. No doubt, but why? The way Darlene acted with me I had concluded that she was frigid as well as sterile. I pushed thoughts of infidelity away and rang the Stradbroke Island police again. No one had drowned and no vehicle accidents. This settled, I checked the yellow pages for camping grounds. Under Stradbroke Island, I found three: Myora, Dunwich and then two at Point Lookout.
Everyone in Brisbane travelled to Stradbroke Island. It was where we went if we wanted a quiet weekend by the seaside. I had thought nothing of it, when Darlene had said that she wanted to go camping with her brother. It had been rather hot and humid in Brisbane and since I was to attend that weekend seminar, I had agreed as it would get her out of the house and hopefully into a better mood. Now the upshot of this was no wife. I got the street directory from my SAAB, stopping to give the deco a rub with a soft chamoiscloth, then although I knew where the camping grounds were, checked to be doubly sure. Myora was too far from the beach. Still, I rang Myora first. I’m an academic and do my research thoroughly. I gave the woman that answered her names, her married and single one then a brief description. No luck. I tried one of the others, staring at that damnable sketch at the bottom of her list. No one by either of her names had been there. I mentioned her brother, Johnny White. Still, no dice!.
Well, three times lucky and I phoned the last one, which was the best bet, North Stradbroke Island Redland Shire Camping Grounds. As the phone rang out, I noticed that my hands were slightly shaking. Would she be there and make my agitation all for nothing? Would I be listening to her voice with that contrite girlish tone as she apologized? Pay dirt of sorts! They remembered Johnny White because he had come with a whole Rugby team, but they could not remember a woman, my wife, being with them. In growing desperation, I went back through the yellow pages and found the Stradbroke Tourist Park. Again nothing! Frantic with a growing anger and despair (how could she do this to me?), I made up my mind to go to Stradbroke Island on the morrow to find out if she had been there for sure. But I had classes… what to do? With my marriage falling apart, I had been slack at my work lately and if I didn’t pull up my socks I would find myself before the Dean again. Then I thought of Rhonda Smythe-Jones, who had a different tone of reddish hair to that of my wife as she got her hair dyed professionally, who might take them. Even though it was rather late, I rang her and said that I was coming down with something and would she look after my students. For some reason, she always manifested a friendliness to me that I thought meant that she was keen on me. Well, no matter. She would take my classes. I slammed down the phone, strangely in elation, and for a moment thought about Rhonda and how perhaps I should have cultivated her more, even to having an affair. Darlene had been so cold and frigid with me that I would be justified in seeking relief elsewhere, but then I had been so absorbed in my wife that I had allowed myself to be overwhelmed by her misery until I too was suffering. God, I wished that nothing had happened to her. I stared at that thing she had sketched on the paper. The circles about a roundish raised object, a cock within a cunt, made me perspire. If she had been unfaithful to me, I would pay her back. Yes, I would hurt her in a way that would make her back pain feel like a tickle.
CHAPTER TWO
Early next morning I was on my way, with her photograph on top of my dashboard and for some reason that list with the doodle. Every now and again, I took my eyes off the road to glance at one or the other. The road to Cleveland was not that busy on a Tuesday morning and just after an hour my SAAB purred into the queue for the barge.