Mood Swing

The living room blinds were open. The two men sat sprawled on the sofa with their feet on the coffee table, which meant they were probably watching Monday night football, and that irritated the hell out of Tonya. Her husband was in there drinking beer and watching the game with one of his firefighter buddies, while she sat out there with her hands clenching the steering wheel and her heart tied up in knots.

Two weeks ago, after the court proceedings, she’d given him the cold shoulder—no talk, no sex, no nothing—just so he’d never forget how pissed she was. When he hadn’t seemed to care about that, she’d gotten progressively more frustrated, until one day she lost it a little and gave him an ultimatum. She told him that if he didn’t apologize for everything he’d done and swear he’d never look at another woman again, she was going to leave. He told her he wasn’t apologizing for anything. Then he went into the kitchen, grabbed a beer and a sack of pretzels and headed for the living room, where he sat down on the sofa and flipped on a NASCAR race.

It stunned her so much that she said fine, packed some clothes, her toothbrush and her makeup and told him she’d be in the apartment over her hair salon whenever he came to his senses.

A week later, she was still there.

Go, she told herself. Drive away. Go back to your apartment and stay there until you get that apology you’ve got coming.

But deep inside she had the most horrible feeling that the week she’d already waited would turn into two weeks, then three, and then Dale would realize he didn’t need her after all and she’d go to the mailbox one day and the divorce papers would be there.

Tonya lit a cigarette and took a hard drag, forcing herself to think. Finally she decided that the house was hers, too, so of course she had a right to walk in anytime she wanted to. And she looked just hot enough tonight that she was sure to get Dale’s attention. He’d always told her he didn’t like her wearing this particular skirt around other men because they couldn’t keep their eyes off her. Maybe if she strutted through the living room, Cliff’s gaze would wander a little, and then Dale’s possessive streak would take over and he’d want her to come home. Men weren’t like women. Sometimes you had to get right in their faces to remind them of what was important.

She took a last drag on her cigarette and ground it out in the ashtray, before popping a few Tic Tacs. After checking her makeup and putting on more lipstick, she took a deep breath and got out of the car. On the way to the door, she made up a reason why she’d dropped by just in case Dale didn’t jump right up and beg her to stay. But she hoped he would, if for no other reason than that he hadn’t had sex in a week.

Unless he’d gone back for another round with Kendra Willis.

Shoving that horrible thought aside, Tonya stuck her key in the lock and opened the door. Dale came to attention right away, and when their eyes met, she smiled. Just a little. And when he sat back on the sofa, his face stoic, her heart crumbled.

“Now, don’t you boys get up on my account,” Tonya said, with just the right amount of offhanded sarcasm, as if she really didn’t give a damn about any of this. “I just came by for a few things.”

She went into their bedroom, where she found the bed neatly made. That didn’t surprise her. Whenever she told other women that Dale actually did housework, they always said, All those good looks, and he helps out, too? It had always made her feel so good to be able to give them a superior little smile that said, you bet he does, and he’s all mine.

But that wasn’t true. He wasn’t all hers. Not anymore.

She pulled back the bedspread a little and gave the pillowcases a sniff, relieved to find no evidence of Kendra’s god-awful perfume. They just smelled like Dale. She leaned in closer and inhaled again.

“Tonya?”

She spun around to see Dale leaning against the door frame, his arms folded, those big, beautiful biceps bulging.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I told you, honey,” she said, dropping the bedspread and heading for the closet. “I came to pick up a few things.”

She opened the door and blindly pulled a few sweaters off hangers, then grabbed a pair of shoes.

“Those are sandals,” he said. “It’s forty degrees out.”

“Fashion before comfort, you know?”

“Did you go to your first class tonight?”

“Of course I did. Legally speaking, I didn’t have a choice, now did I?”

“Because we’re not going to work this out until you learn to control your temper.”

“We’re not going to work this out,” she said, “until you stop screwing other women.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could yank them back. Making him mad wasn’t going to help things. A little shaky, she turned to grab another sweater.

“Why are you really here?” Dale asked.

“To get some things, like I told you. Oh, yeah. And I was thinking maybe you’d want to give me that apology I’ve been waiting for.”

“It’s the other way around. You assaulted me.”

“Yeah, and you cheated on me.”

“I’ve denied that all I’m going to.”

“And you called the police on me, too. That was really low.”

“It wasn’t the first time you’d thrown a few dishes around. Enough was enough.”

“But calling the cops?” She rolled her eyes. “Didn’t the boys down at the station house think that was a little wussy?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“They’ve all met you.”

The insult hurt more than she would have imagined. “You’re six-three, two-twenty! Like I could actually hurt you?”

“Size doesn’t matter.”

Tonya snorted. “Is that what Kendra Willis told you?”

He turned away. “Take the clothes and go.”

As Dale disappeared down the hall, Tonya felt her eyes tear up. No. Don’t you dare cry.

She sniffed a little and blinked a lot until she finally got herself under control. Then she strode out of the room with her sweaters over her arm and that stupid pair of sandals dangling from her fingers.

Damn it, damn it! How had everything gotten all turned around? She hadn’t wanted to fight with him. She’d wanted to make up with him and enjoy all the perks that went along with that. She missed his big, strong body wrapped around hers at night, his warm breath against her ear, the slow, steady beating of his heart. Just the idea of him holding another woman like that was more than she could bear.

She went back into the living room, where Dale and Cliff were whooping up a storm over a Cowboys touchdown. At the sound of her footsteps, Cliff turned around. His smile evaporated, and he gave her a look that said he hoped she wasn’t thinking about grabbing a few cups and saucers to use as projectiles.

Dale didn’t bother to look at her at all.

Tonya left the house, resisting the urge to slam the door behind her. She got into her car and reached down to start the engine, only to have her eyes fill with tears again.

Men cheat.

She’d heard her mother say that since Tonya was old enough to remember. With three cheating husbands, her mother probably knew what she was talking about. The minute you give a man an inch, she always said, he’ll take a mile.

And her mother had never given an inch. Not one.