Looking around the small, suddenly overcrowded bathroom, he realized that Charmaine was taking over his space… literally. Putting her mark on every bit of his home. Okay, their home.
Opening the medicine cabinet to get a much-needed aspirin, he got another jolt. A little round plastic case containing a month’s supply of birth control pills. Now, why would a born-again virgin need birth control pills? And since she claimed not to have had a date in six months and her new virginity presumably started only a week ago and three weeks worth of pills had already been consumed, a guy could only wonder.
I should not be wondering. I should not care. I need to focus, to prioritize. And Charmaine cannot, will not, be a top priority of mine. No way! He sighed deeply at the jumble Charmaine was making of his life.
After a really long, hot shower, he picked up all his dirty clothes and put them in the hamper. He didn’t want Charmaine picking up after him. Next she’d be waxing things he didn’t want waxed. Then he wrapped a towel around his middle and walked to his bedroom.
He was tempted to lie down on the bed with its clean quilt and take a nap, but he knew he wouldn’t wake till morning. And his stomach was growling with hunger.
Dropping his towel, he went to his underwear drawer and pulled out a pair of briefs. He paused at the scent of flowers that wafted up from the drawer, where she’d neatly arranged all his folded briefs in two long rows. “Jesus!” he murmured under his breath. Flowers! My underwear smells like flowers. He soon realized the cause. Charmaine had placed a dryer sheet in the drawer, something she used to do when they were still married. When they were still married and living together as man and wife, he corrected himself.
He noticed something else at the bottom of the drawer. Their framed wedding picture, which he’d placed there a long time ago. He took it out and gazed at it. They’d run away and eloped. No big wedding with long white gown and fancy tuxedo. He’d worn a plain black suit and dark tie. Charmaine had worn a pink frothy dress with long sleeves and a ruffled hem that ended just below her knees. Sheer stockings ended in pink, high-heeled sandals, which she’d worn for him later that night, with nothing else. She’d been nineteen and he’d just turned twenty-one. So young and so damn good looking, both of them. They stared at each other with so much love it made his heart ache.
He exhaled with disgust at his maudlin reverie and placed the photograph back in the drawer, under the briefs. Charmaine had to have seen it when she’d straightened out his drawers. What had she thought?
Enough dwelling on the past! He pulled on his briefs, a pair of clean jeans and T-shirt, ran a brush through his too-long hair, saw that he needed a shave as well as a haircut, but was too tired to do anything about either one. Then he walked to the kitchen in his bare feet.
His eyes about bugged out at the scene before him. Everyone, including Charmaine, sat around the kitchen table which was covered with a tablecloth today. God only knew where Charmaine had found a tablecloth. Two mismatched, lit candles, one blue and one green, sat at either end. A huge tureen filled with what looked and smelled like chicken gumbo held center stage, flanked by about five quarts of dirty rice, corn bread, some kind of lettuce-and-tomato salad, and a pitcher of iced sweet tea. A be-still-my-heart bread pudding cooled on the stove next to a pot of steaming coffee.
The whole scene was something out of The Waltons TV show. She’s killing me here. With kindness, for chrissake. And birth control pills, and lilac shaving gel, and folded underwear, and Obsession perfume.
“Well, dontcha wanna say sumpin?” Clarence prodded him.
“Uh, everything looks great. Dig in. Don’t wait for me.”
He glanced over at Charmaine as he spoke and added a silently mouthed “Thank you” just for her. Her response was a little curtsy move with her shoulders.