Tessa left the bed soon after, making her way to the bathroom and turning on the shower. She looked out the window into the thick forest that lay beyond their stretch of property, the gentle upward curve of Bear Mountain leading to a rising sun that shined brightly in a cloudless, azure sky. She watched as a bird she recognized as a black-capped chickadee perched on a nearby branch, the branch dipping slightly under the weight of the animal. Opening the window as the bathroom filled with hot steam, she listened to the bird chirping out a chiming, pleasant melody.
The bathroom was small and cozy, like every other room in the cabin, with thick walls of dark, rich wood, facilities of sleek, modern stainless-steel. There was a large basin tub where Tessa loved to spend lazy evenings with a book and glass of cabernet, letting the evening breeze and steady pulsing of cicadas lull her into a state of tranquility.
But there was no such calm to be found today. As she put her hand in front of the stream of water to confirm it was hot enough before stepping inside, the events of the last half hour ran through Tessa’s mind. She knew that something was going on with Lucas. For as long as she had been pretending otherwise, Tessa knew that the time had come for her to accept the fact that Lucas was doing things out late at night that he was keeping from her.
He always told her that he was simply out with friends that he met in the nearby town of Branlen, a cheerful, quaint hamlet where they purchased groceries and went out for drinks whenever they felt the need to be around civilization, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Lucas had brought a few of these friends to the house one evening and the two men that he introduced her to were both sleazy men wearing ratty denim clothes and the smirks of troublemakers; they were men that anyone with the slightest bit of intuition could sense were up to no good, and Tessa worried that they were getting Lucas involved their shady goings-on, whatever they were.
As she let the hot water wash the sweat and scent of sex from her body, she decided that the time for turning a blind eye was over, and that as soon as she got dressed, she’d speak to Lucas. She would demand that he tell her what was going on, what was new in his life that was causing him to act so distant towards her. And as she considered what he might be hiding, the thought of cheating, causing a sick, tight feeling to take hold in the root of her stomach and spread throughout her body. It made her heart race and skin go cold, despite the heat of the water.
They got married when they were only 22 and since then, they’d been each other’s everything. Tessa wondered if he could possibly be cheating after all this time. She tried to dismiss the idea, but it stuck in her head like a splinter, radiating with psychic pain every time she poked at it.
Soaping up the curves of her body, she considered what to do. She knew that she had to ask him to explain what was going on- there was no getting around that. But what if he denied it? What if he wasn’t up to anything? Tessa tossed these thoughts out of her mind; there was simply no way that Lucas’s change in behavior was in her imagination.
Tessa finished washing up and stepped out of the shower. She grabbed one of the fluffy white towels from the brushed-metal hook on the door and, after drying herself off, stepped out of the bathroom. The towel wrapped around her body just above her breasts, she stepped in front of the mirror, wiped away the thin patina of steam that had accumulated on the surface, and looked at the reflection that stared back at her.
Even now, getting on into her late thirties, Tessa knew that she was still a beautiful woman. She had thick, dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders in full tresses, shimmering blue eyes that sparkled like frozen water catching the setting sun, and perfect Cupid's bow lips. Her skin was fair and clear, and her neck was long and graceful.
But as the years went on, the sense that her looks were fading by the day was a feeling she couldn’t shake. Crow’s feet were forming in the corners of her eyes, her bright complexion seemed to be fading, and, looking down, she noted ruefully that her breasts weren’t exactly those of a 22 year old. But she took good care of herself, eating right and exercising, and her body was still more than capable of turning heads, even if it was not as many as when she was fresh out of art school.
There was only one head she was interested in turning, however, and he was growing more distant by the day.
Shucking off the towel and tossing it onto the back of the vanity mirror, Tessa let the morning air wick away the last bits of water on her body. Listening to Lucas rummage through the kitchen, Tessa pulled a pair of matching black underwear out of her drawer and put them on before finishing her outfit with a simple, form-fitting white V-neck t-shirt and a pair of tight, black jeans. Stepping into a pair of black low-top sneakers, she took one last breath before heading into the kitchen.
Lucas’s back was towards her as she entered, a box of sugary cereal in his hand that he was eating straight out of the package. This struck Tessa as strange- junky food like that was something the two of them never typically kept in the home.
“Hey, baby?” asked Tessa, as she stepped through the sunny living room and towards where Lucas stood through the doorway to the kitchen.
“Yeah?” he grunted, not turning around, his bare back still sheened with sweat.
“Can we talk?”
He shoved down another handful of cereal.
“About what?” he asked, through loud crunching.
Tessa finished walking into the kitchen, made her way to the clean, white counter that Lucas stood in front of, and leaned against it.
“I need to know where you’ve been going at night. And where you’ve been leaving to so early,” she said, having trouble forming the words, fearing the conflict that might arise as a result of them.
“I told you,” he said, still not looking up. “I’m out with friends.”
“I know that, but what are you out doing?”
Lucas shoved down one more handful of cereal, chewed it, and set the box on the countertop, the cartoon bear on the front of it giving Tessa a broad smile that almost appeared to be mocking her. He placed his hands on the edge of the countertop, his jaw grinding as Tessa watched the muscles and bones work through the skin of his face.
“Why do you need to know my business?” he asked.
“Because you’re staying out later and later, you’re going out in the mornings without telling me where, and you’re hanging out with this these…these weirdos that you’d never normally be around?”
He turned to her, his face tight and his green eyes narrow.
“Again, what business is it of yours?”
“What business is it of mine?” she asked, feeling more indignant by the second at his stonewalling. “How about that I’m your wife?”
“That doesn’t mean you need to know where I am at every exact second of the day,” he said, his voice shifting from dispassionate to angered.
“I don’t need to know where you are every second of the day, but when you’re staying out late, not telling me where you are, I start to wonder, you know? And, on top of everything, you’re acting…I don’t know, different.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.
“And look at that,” she said, pointing at the lawn beyond the kitchen window to Lucas’s latest sculpture- a tall, human-shaped figure of bent and shaped wrought-iron. “You haven’t touched your work in months. I thought that the whole point of getting out of the city was so we could have time and peace to focus on our art.”
“Don’t worry about how I spent my time,” he said, his voice rising.
Tessa stepped back and extended her hand as if gesturing to something on display.
“And this!” she said. “You’re angry and impatient all the time. You barely talk to me anymore and when we make love, it’s like you’re not even there!”
“It’s all in your head,” he said.
“Don’t tell me I’m imagining it or that I’m crazy or something. I know what I see.”
Tessa watched as the red flush of anger spread across Lucas’s face.
“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” he said, his voice rising as he stepped towards Tessa.
He shook his head and Tessa noticed with shock that he was clenching and unclenching his right fist.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve to accuse me of whatever the hell you’re accusing me of, telling me my friends are ‘weirdos,’ that I’m acting ‘different,’ that I have to check in with you like you’re my goddamn mother!”
He closed the distance between himself and Tessa, until his six-three frame was looming over her.
“This is the end of this conversation,” he said. “And I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about the subject.”
Then, at that moment, Tessa felt something that she’d never before felt in the presence of her husband: fear.
Tessa stood her ground, trying to appear calm and undisturbed, but inside she felt as scared as a child.
Lucas looked her over one last time, glowering at her with hot, angry eyes. Then, he turned and began stomping out of the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor. Part of Tessa wanted to let the conversation end there, to not risk having it blow up into something more. But another part of her, one that was desperate for answers, one that wanted to know more than anything what had gotten into her husband, began to well in her.
“No!” she exclaimed, her voice high and shrill, stopping Lucas in his tracks.
“What?” he asked, not turning around.
“I said ‘no,’” she said, her voice quivering slightly. “I’m your wife. And you don’t get to dismiss this conversation just because you don’t feel like it. That’s not how this works.”
Lucas said nothing as he turned around to face her, his expression red with anger, with impatience, with frustration. Tessa didn’t know how he was going to react; for the first time in the 15 years of her marriage, she felt scared and unsafe around her own husband. Then, with slow, measured steps, he walked towards the small, two-seat wooden table near the bay windows that looked out onto the front yard. He picked up the glass vase that held two purple flowers, tossed it in his hand as if measuring it for heft, and with a quick jutting of his arm, threw it against the wall on the far side of the room, the vase exploding in a crash of glass, water, and flowers.
Tessa watched this unfolding in horror, shocked that her husband would do such a thing. Any feeling of protestation was now gone; she couldn’t think of a word to say.
Lucas, feeling that his point was made, strode out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Noisily rummaging through the room, he emerged seconds later, now wearing a black t-shirt with his jeans and a pair of heavy boots, his stomping sounding through the home. He then stormed out the front door, followed soon after by the revving of his motorcycle. Tessa watched him as he peeled off down the winding road in front of their home, leaving her in stunned silence.