I Love My Wife

“Adeen!”

My name echoes throughout the house.

The sound waves bounce off the walls until my ears are alerted and my brain registers to wake up and respond.

“Yeah?” I call back.

I don't open my eyes because all I wish to do is sink into the bed beneath me.

“You’re gonna be...” Her voice fades..

She sounds as though she is walking further away yet still chattering away.

She has some hunch that I somehow developed supersonic hearing and can hear her whispers.

“I- I can’t hear you, what’d you say?”

Her voice cuts off abruptly and I say a small prayer in my head hoping that whatever she has to say can wait until we cross paths later tonight. I just want these extra few minutes of sleep.

It’s silent for a few more seconds and I relax, sure that she’ll wait to talk to me until later.
But by another second, her heels begin clicking down the marble hall, up the wooden stairs then grow mute as she makes her way across our lush carpeted floor.

There she stands in front of the California king bed we share. To no surprise, her eyes are hard on me and arms folded across her perky bosom, which is tucked in place by her snug-in-all-places-too-short-for-my-taste-dress.

I take in a deep breath and fully look at her, sitting up as I do.

“Morning,” I murmur sleepily.

“You’re going to be late to work, what are you doing still in bed?” she snipes.

I groan and close my lids rolling my eyes, she scoffs.

“Don’t roll your eyes, it’s 7:48!” she stomps her right foot.

I look at her again. Her hands on her hip and her necks craned, I’m surprised her left eye isn’t twitching. Instead of angry with me I imagine the real reason she’s gnawing at her lip is because of her heel slamming into her foot when childishly stomping, inflicting just a little pain.

“You need to get to work Adeen!”

She scolds me like a child trying to weasel their way out of school by faking sick. As much as I do dislike my job, I wouldn’t miss work to be under Quinn’s recent watchful eye and lashing tongue, especially on her day off.

You’d think today of all days she’d be relaxed and still be in bed sleeping in, but knowing my wife, I'm sure she’s booked her day with meetings.

Quinn stands there waiting for me to hop up, dash into my clothes and hurry out of the house like the trained puppy I am.

“Yes Dear,” I say in a patronizing tone.

Sitting all the way up at this point and back against the leather padded headboard. I bow myself in half extending my arms up and out at my sides. Keeping my eyes on her, she scoffs, storms out of the room cursing my name and she's gone before I’ve risen completely.

Beautiful start to my day.

Taking my time to get dressed and brush my pearlies I then go locating my wallet and keys. After making a mess of the dresser tops and drawers, now feeling a little pressured under time I hurry down the stairs. When I reach the bottom floor I see my waiting wife’s hand dangling the keys with my wallet in her palm. She stands at the front door silently beaming with glee as I was finally getting out of her hair.

A hop, skip and pathetic peck on the lips later I am out of the door, in the car and driving to my shitty job on yet another fine day.