Short Stories

Short Stories Jealousy



Glory Lennon's image for:
"Short Stories Jealousy"
Caption: 
Location: 
Image by: 
©  

"I don't like her and I don't need to wait til later to figure out why!" Stacy growled.

"No, you got it all wrong. The song goes I hate her, I'll think of a reason later.' It's a funny song." David proceeded to hum the tune completely oblivious to the fact that his wife was seething.

"I'm talking about that woman, Clarice, you were flirting with. The sl-"

"Don't say it!" he cut her off as he jerked his thumb at the backseat which contained three zonked out little girls. They had a very thrilling yet tiring day at the county fair, their heads over full with too much noise, too much excitement and enough junk food in their bellies to last them until next summer. "You want them thinking their mama's a potty mouth? It took me a week to convince them you meant to say Bambi' not bimbo' when talking about my sister....Wait...me flirting? I only had a couple of beers, I think I would remember that. Was she at least as cute as you?"

Stacy glared at him. What's wrong with this guy, she wondered for the seven hundredth time? "She's not nearly as pretty as I am!" Stacy had a rather high opinion of herself especially when in a jealous rage. "And her husband Rick was standing right there, too. What, pray tell, would she have done if he hadn't been? She's such a b-"

"Don't say it!" David admonished again then continued with a sigh "Ok, where was this?"

Stacy rolled her eyes. "At the roller coaster."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you! You missed it when you went to the quilt display. The girls were so cute. Kathy had her hands covering her eyes, screaming her head off, which had Katie covering her ears to keep from going deaf and Christy had her hands over her mouth, probably trying not to puke. They looked just like the monkeys...you know...See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil...it was so funny! I tried to get a picture but the roller coaster was going too fast. You should have been there."David had the huge grin across his face that he always got when speaking of the wonders of his delightful daughters.

What's wrong with this guy, Stacy wondered again? She was in a towering rage and gosh-darn-it she wanted to stay that way and his Daddy's little girls smile was not going to dissuade her from it.

"About the flirting?" Stacy interjected in an exasperated tone.

"Didn't I just tell you, I was too busy taking pictures and I don't even remember talking to her."

"So, it was nothing to you when she questioned the kids' paternity?"

"Whoa," David had stopped at the traffic light. "I didn't hear any of that!"

"Well, what little I heard was enough to turn my blood to lava." she hissed as if he'd been the one to say it.

"So, what exactly did she say?" The traffic light had changed and his eyes were now on the road.

"That the girls look nothing like you, that perhaps the mailman had something to do with their golden curls."

"Well, she obviously knows nothing about recessive genes." David mused.

"Is that all you've got to say when someone questions your wife's moral integrity?" Stacy was itching to ring his neck.

"What the heck do I care what others say? I know my Stacy and she's the best." David gave her his disarming smile as he picked up her clenched fist, kissed it then held it over his heart. As her anger quickly and grudgingly dissipated she marveled yet again what's wrong with this guy? She remembered the first time she had asked that.

They had been working at the same seafood restaurant during the summer when they had both been at college. It was the suspicion of the employees and the rumor about town that it was a mob-run location. The name, Nuatando Con Pesci, as any true Italian could tell you, meant roughly swimming with the fishes' but that was not the only clue to bring about this general opinion.

Stacy acknowledged as proof positive of a mob connection the occasional deliveries brought by two immaculately dressed men, each the size of a small mountain, in a brand-new Cadillac.

"Youse two, com'ere." they said and led the way to the fancy car. They would always point to David whom they seemed to trust and any of the other guys that were unfortunate enough to have been standing next to David. While David was unperturbed the others gulped and looked as if they feared never being heard from again.

The trunk was opened and the men would say "Youse take care of it." "It" wasn't a body to be disposed of but rather just a couple of sacks of potatoes that David took to the kitchen as if produce coming by Cadillac was quite normal.

Stacy liked David. He was so different from the other workers who spent most of their time asking her out. This may be where Stacy got that high opinion of herself. There was Frank, Tim and Steve all of whom had rippling pectorals, bulging biceps and killer abs and Joey who, lacking the Adonis physique, compensated with a canary yellow Corvette with state-of-the-art sound system. None of them had a chance with Stacy, however. David, on the other hand, had her attention not just because he was sweet, funny and polite. What Stacy really liked was that he would drop whatever he was doing to grab the heavy trays out of the waitresses hands while the other guys just lounged around. Chivalry went much further with Stacy than Mr. Olympias and their muscle cars.

Stacy started dropping subtle hints to David but it went right over his head. What's wrong with this guy? Subtle hints changed to overt flirtation and still nothing.

David, it seemed, was immune to her charms. So when she chanced to hear him telling the others of his plan to go to the beach on his day off, she knew this was her last shot.

She interjected "So, you're planning a trip to the beach and you're not inviting me and my new bikini? I must be losing my touch." and she walked away in a mock huff.

"See there?" David told the others "I think she likes me. Should I ask her out?"

"What are you nuts?" said Frank.

"She'll never go out with you when she's turned me down." said Tim.

Lucky for Stacy, David didn't listen and instead asked her out for ice cream. What's wrong with this guy? Any other guy would want to get her drunk. Not David though. He would rather satisfy a sweet tooth. She liked him all the more. She wasn't much for drinking but ice cream? Who didn't like ice cream?

They pulled into the driveway and Stacy carried the sleeping Katie while David took both Christy and Kathy and they put them to bed without any of them awakening. They stared down at their little cherubs. David had that I-couldn't-possibly-be-happier smile on his face. What's wrong with this guy? She remembered their third date when she knew they would be together always.

They were in a dark and mostly empty theater watching an obscure movie when Stacy asked "Who would name a child such a hideous name?"

David replied while munching on popcorn " When we get married, I want our first boy to be Chuck."

What's wrong with this guy? She knew all college guys ever wanted was...well, it definitely wasn't marriage. She chose to ignore the first part and answered the second. " Chuck is awful."

His face fell. "But it's a nickname for Charles, my grandfather's nickname." he said sadly.

"Well, Charles is fine, I like Charlie."

"That's settled then," David brightened "So, how many kids you want?" he asked while munching on the popcorn.

Stacy tried to ascertain in the dark whether he was kidding. He must be, she thought but she decided to play along. "Since I was little I thought two girls and two boys would be perfect."

She waited to see him running for the hills and was thoroughly shocked when he said. "Sounds good, picked out names yet?"

"I like Kathy." she said haltingly.

"I like Christine." David said.

For a minute she thought he was some sort of stalker until she remembered she had chased him.

"My middle name's Christine."

"Really? Cool!" he said smiling brightly.

Stacy still shook her head in bewilderment. They had named their children on the third date. Who does that? As they, too, crawled into bed, she marveled one last time What's wrong with this guy?' And she answered herself as she had done previously some seven hundred times before, absolutely nothing.


 

More about this author: Glory Lennon

ARTICLE SOURCES AND CITATIONS