The Cracks in Our Foundation

I stood in front of the mirror making sure my eyeshadow was even. I hated it when one eye was darker. You had to go back and fix that eye and then...

CRASH BANG CRASH

The sudden noise from the bedroom startled me enough to drop the make-up brush. It left a long streak of grey down my cheek.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I didn't even need to look into the bedroom to know what the sound was. HE was looking for something. HE was making a god awful mess in the room I just cleaned looking for something that was probably right in front of him. And was he going to clean that mess up when he was done? Of course not. That wasn't the sort of thing he concerned himself with. Why should he? He knew I would just come along and clean up behind him.

I sighed. It would be over with quicker if I just helped him. Maybe I could avoid having him completely tear the room apart.

"What are you looking for?" I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. If he heard it, we would be here all night.

"My fucking shoes! I can't find them anywhere. Did you move them?" His voice was muffled inside the closet. Good. He wouldn't be able to see me roll my eyes.

"Why would I have moved your shoes?"

He mumbled something that sounded like that's the kind of stupid thing you do sometimes.

I moved closer to the closet. He was on all fours digging through the junk on the floor. Clothes, books, and other shoes went flying as he tossed them behind him. The room was a disaster area. He even thrown clothes out of the dresser drawer in his insane search for his damn shoes.

"Where did you see them last?" I always asked him that when he couldn't find something. He always gave me the same answer.

In three...two...one....

"If I knew that I wouldn't be looking for them now would I?"

It was the same thing every time. Every. Fucking. Time.

In an effort to get on with the night, I helped him look for his shoes. I'd taken two steps when I saw them half-hidden under the bedspread.

"Sweetheart, did you look under the bed?" If he said that he had, I was going to hit him.

"Of course I did. That was one of the first places I looked," he yelled over his shoulder, not bothering to look back at me.

My hand curled into a fist and I resisted the urge to throw the goddamn shoes at his head. I decided to count to fifteen this time. I love him, I repeated to myself, I love him and I don't want to bludgeon him with his own shoe.

Done with his search of the closet, he finally turned to me. "Hey you found my shoes. Where were they?"

"They were not quite under the bed," I answered flatly.

"Damn I must have missed them," he smiled his charming little smile and all thoughts of where to hide his body disappeared. He stood up to take the shoes from me. He laid a quick kiss on my cheek. "Don't worry about this mess, I'll clean it tomorrow."

He wouldn't. He never did.

"You might want to work on your make-up baby. It looks pretty bad," he called as he left the room.

I grabbed a random shoe from the floor. Maybe in the backyard....