The Perfect Rose

The perfect rose

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

I lay on my back and he took off my pants. It took a lot of shuffling. Then he kissed me and set to work. His tongue working its way around the folds of my skin, periodically sucking, until he was through. Now it was my turn to arouse him. He stripped himself and moved me to where I was needed. Kneeling, I pump on his penis to stiffen it, before putting the thing into my mouth. It slipped in and out of my mouth with his movement. One hand gripped around the base of it, the other on his hip to steady me. His hands around the back of my head, knotted in my hair.

“Arghh, good girl.”

He always says that. Right before he comes. It’s in my mouth and I swallow. Good girls always swallow!

He needs a rest now before we go on. He lies on his back on the bed while I stare into space. I compose the shopping list for the week in my head; milk, bread, cheese, something for Sunday dinner, bin bags. The usual. I twiddle the little gold band around my finger between my thumb and forefinger.

He is ready now so I lie back. He is on top; it’s how it has always been. He tells me to lift my legs even though I know the routine. I lift my legs and wrap them around his back and he lies on top of me. He pushes in and it hurts. The first one always hurts. I always flinch. Then he settles into a rhythm and it doesn’t hurt any more. His sweat drips onto my face but I can’t wipe it away because he has my hands pinned to the bed. He groans. I make the face I know he likes. I say the words I should. I am his plaything. He doesn’t talk much while he’s working so neither do I. He’s happy so long as I make the right noises. He comes again and I hope I’m not going to get pregnant. I know he wants me to be. It’d mean twice the shopping, a different routine, change. We couldn’t afford it.

He’s climbed off of me now. He lies panting next to me. He doesn’t notice I don’t. He doesn’t notice I haven’t come.

“Fix us a tea.” I get up and he adds “and that ice cream I bought.”

I long since stopped being embarrassed about walking in our house naked. He doesn’t care so why should I? And there’s no one else to care; just him and me, and the kettle and the freezer. There’s hot water in the kettle because I filled it earlier. I flick the switch, it’s gonna break soon. We need a new freezer as well; this one doesn’t freeze right. Everything has a thin layer of ice crystals on it. It’s almost the time of year when I defrost it now. Twice a year, on hands and knees with a bucket, a scrapper and a jay clothe. There’s more ice than food in it right now. The ice cream is on the top shelf, all 500ml of it. He likes vanilla; I like strawberry. It’s vanilla. The kettle’s boiled now, so I find his mug. It’s the same one he’s used for years, wishing him a happy tea break. The tea is on the bottom shelf so I can reach it easily. I wanted the cupboards lower but he said he’d end up banging his head all the time. I guess he had a point. Milk first, then the tea bag then the water. Quick stir then out with the bag. He likes it weak. I think it tastes just like flavoured water that way. I wipe the spoon on a tea towel then take everything back to him. He’s up now sitting by the computer. I hate having that thing in the bedroom; he has an office for it.

“Thanks love.”

I don’t bother to reply, he’s not listening anyway.

“The meetings been moved, I have to go in half an hour.”

“Okay.”

“Give you a chance to clean up the kitchen.”

“Okay.”

“Looks like the freezer needs defrosting.”

“I was going to do that next week.”

“Well whenever, it’s so iced up I can barely get my hand in there.”

“It’s on its last legs. We really need a new one.”

“No, it’s fine, it just needs defrosting.”

“Okay.”

“Come here and have some ice cream.”

I sat on his lap and we ate the ice cream.

~

Deborah came round to complain about Gavin again. She said she needed sugar but she lives closer to the convenience store than I do.

“He’s always working these days, I never get to see him.”

“Ah ha,”

“I feel almost as if I’m a widow, not a wife.”

I tried to look sympathetic. Rumour had it the reason he was away from home so much was because he had a child in Pennsylvania.

“I mean don’t I do enough for him? He’s dinner is always on the table when he comes home from work. All I ask is too see him ever now and then. That’s not unreasonable is it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Your Frank isn’t like that, is he?”

My Frank.

“You don’t think he’s got someone else, do you?”

“I don’t know Deb.”

“You would tell me if you knew he had someone else, wouldn’t you?”

Would I?

“Of course Debs.”

“Oh my look at the time, I have to get Ashley’s cake ready before her and her friends get back from horse riding. Thanks for the sugar.”

My Frank.

My tea was cold by now so I chucked it down the sink and washed up the mug. My Frank wouldn’t be back for hours yet. I got the brandy from the back of the cupboard and a glass then turned on the radio.

~

“You didn’t defrost the freezer.”

It wasn’t a question but I said no anyway.

“Have you been drinking again?”

“Why do you ask when you know the answer?”

“Why do you do this too me? We are supposed to be going to Sheila’s house party tonight. You can’t show up pissed again, what will people say?”

I don’t care what people say. Bunch of phoneys.

“You’ll have to sober up.”

~

“Oh how lovely, I’m so glad you could make.”

“Thanks Sheila, oh what a lovely new carpet, is it a Persian?”

“Yes, how good of you to notice, it took my Geoffrey three days.” She tittered.

“Come come Sheila, don’t keep our guests out in the cold.”

“Oh, of course, come in, come in. Everyone is in the lounge, John is behind the bar.” She tittered again, “Where else would you find him?”

I laugh back. It isn’t funny.

“Frank, over here, we need an educated opinion. What do you think about that new building on 54th?”

“I’ll see you later love.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be over here with the girls, go have fun.”

He disappeared into the usual cloud of smoke that accompanied the men in these things.

“Aww you two are just such a cute couple, how do you keep the romance after all these years?”

I shrug and she laughs.

The ladies were talking about how their children had done in their riding exams, or how clean their new product got their oven. I tuned out. How do you keep the romance? All these years!

Sheila was talking about her daughters amazing flute playing now; any second the girl would be summoned in order for her mother to show off.

“Oh that sounds amazing,” as if scripted, “I’d love to hear her play.”

The girl could have been hiding around the corner waiting for her cue considering how quickly she was there flute in hand.

“I need a drink.”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, I just said she’s very good.”

“Why thank you.” As if she was playing.

~

“Thanks for the party, we had a great time?”

“That’s okay, it was great to see you Frank, it’s been too long.”

“Yes we must do this more often, but next time it’s at our house.”

“Hadn’t you better check with the misses before you say things like that.”

They both laugh.

“Well we must be going. Thanks again for a lovely evening.”

We walk down the driveway just close enough to look right, but not too close. He doesn’t speak to me the whole journey home. The 4x4 handles the driving for him. We go straight to bed when we get home. Matching pyjamas, a gift from his mother. He wants to read for a bit, I just want to go to sleep, so I roll over and cover my head with the pillow to try and block out the light. When he finishes reading I’m still awake but I pretend not to be when he kisses me. He rolls over the other way and soon he’s snoring. I look over at him and notice he has more nostril hair than he used too. The streetlights shine through the curtains that look pretty but do nothing. How do you keep the romance after all these years? I get out of bed and head to the bathroom. It’s so white, white tiles, white towels, white shower curtain that clings when wet. I got to the toilet and remove the top of the cistern. The bottle is just where I left it; he never looks in here, not even if it stops working. I drop the lid and sit down. The vodka burns on the way down. I finish the bottle and go back to bed. He’s still snoring. That much nostril hair must make it harder to breathe.