Fred and Linda

In his living room, Fred sat in his underpants. His feet were propped up by the footrest of his armchair. The world buzzed around him. Between the repetitive chatter of the TV show, the hum of insects through the open windows, and the squeak of the ceiling fan, he had no space to think. He liked it that way.

“Next time on Mops…”

The show preview engrossed his mind as the echo of a car door slamming shut traveled through the open window. Keys and coins jingled. The front door shook the wall as Linda slammed it shut.

“Fred,” she barked as her shoes bounced off the wall. It was a long day at the supermarket. Any day outside the house was a long day in Fred’s book.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not have the fan on so high? You’re going to make it fall out of the ceiling.” She pulled the cord, turning it down. One noise gone.

“It’s too hot in here,” he told her for the millionth time.

“Well,” she said, also for the millionth time, “turn the air on and close the damn windows. Where the hell do you think the heat’s coming from?”

“Your head! It was fine before you came in and turned the damn thing off,” he grumbled. “You don’t have to touch everything just because you stepped through the door.”

She scoffed. “Well excuse me for wanting to be comfortable in my own house.”

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?”

Linda marched around the room, silencing the hum of bugs. The windows snapped back into their sills; the locks creaked ever so softly. Another sound fell silent. Fred was left with the drone of the TV, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until she muted that, too. For one reason or another, she’d find an excuse to silence the world inside the home. She wanted him to think, he figured. Surely, Linda’s main purpose when she got home was to change everything and waste his money on running the air conditioner just to force Fred to think.

The general took her death march to the hall. Fred’s stiff back ached as he stood. Why was she like this? Who would exchange the hum of nature for the mechanical buzz of the air running? It would make the house too cold, too drafty.

The walls clicked to life as she pressed the buttons on the wall. Fred wondered if he could break the box without costing more money to get it fixed. Gosh, was she ever so in love with that cooling system. He’d take a hammer to it if the summers weren’t so hot.

“Alright, Snow Queen, what’d you bring for dinner?” He rubbed the sore spot on the bottom of his spine.

“I didn’t,” she said as she turned to go to the bedroom.

He followed her, wanting to pull on something of his own. The blowing air always made him chilly.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a light shirt. Linda striped down to her skinnies and dressed herself in her house clothes. In the first years of their romance, he’d be all over her like a bee to a freshly bloomed flower. But now, with the hitch in his back and the stress of bills and her late nights of overtime, he’d rather lay in his chair with his feet up than take her out to some dinner they couldn’t afford. He sighed. That was the only way to make her slow down before she hit the hay. With her overtime every weekend, he couldn’t figure why there wasn’t any left over cash at the end of the month to even think about eating out.

“You didn’t? Damn woman, what am I supposed to have for dinner then?”

Linda emptied out the extra change in her purse and stuffed it into a special sock she kept in the back of her panty drawer. Of course, she didn’t know that Fred knew that the sock even existed or that it was a man’s sock, but he knew. He’d gone through her things a handful of times, looking for anything he may not know and finding nothing to send him over the edge.

“I don’t know. I’m not your mommy. You’re a grown-ass man,” she snipped as she blocked the drawer with her body. “You can feed yourself.”

His head started to hurt. He was cold and hot at the same time. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck before he even asked the question on his mind. “You know you’re an hour late.”

“Kim asked me to lock up with her. There’s been some teenagers hanging out around the store at night.”

“Did you have dinner?”

“Kim and I split something as we were checking the tills.” She cleared her throat.

He wished that she didn’t have a tell. “Are you sure you didn’t spilt something with one of those boys?””

“Excuse me?” She turned around. Her fists rested on her hips. With a turn of her head, she looked back at her open panty drawer. In one quick motion, she slammed it shut and then stared back at Fred.

With the TV in the other room, he had too much time to think. The blow of the air conditioner was too much and not enough at the same time. He stood up and went out to the kitchen. How could the freezer and the fridge be so empty if she was at the supermarket every day? He stared at the shelves until his thoughts blinded him. With his eyes squinted, he went to the sink and unlocked the window. Linda’s loud voice was dampened as he opened the window and stuck his head outside.

“What the hell? You think I’m cheating? You think I’m stepping out on you with some damn teenagers? What do they have that I want? Nothing,” she yelled at him.

He took a few deep breaths, then flattened his feet, bringing his head back inside. The second he steadied out, her palm hit the back of his head. He spun and snatched her wrist.

“Woman, do not hit me,” he demanded. Looking into her eyes, he realized he was too tired to fight. They would fight one day; it was something he knew they couldn’t avoid. There would be one quiet night or she would slip or he would get sick of her crap, and then the whole thing would boil over.

Fred went to the hall, turned off the air conditioner, and returned to the living room. He opened the windows, flipped the fan on high, and removed his pants. His chair groaned as he sat down. Linda crossed her arms. He clicked the volume high. His thoughts aired out. The pain in his head eased, and he didn’t even recall that he was hungry.

“Really? Really, Fred? You aren’t even going to finish what you started. Damn it, you always pull this crap on me. I just got home from work, and you won’t even talk to me. Yeah, keep turning that TV set louder. You make this house feel like a hell-pit with that fan and the heat from the windows. Why do we even have the thing if you only want it running two months out of the year? It’s a waste of money!”

Her voice was fire; he had been simmering for a long time now. She turned up the flame, and now he was responding in turn.

“Damn right, it is! It is!” He rose from his chair and bumped past her to the hall. With a firm grip, he opened the face of the system control for the cooling system and found a pair of batteries. He popped them out. Linda flinched from the door frame of the hall as he threw them at their closed bedroom door.

“What the hell is wrong with you? If you’re going to be throwing crap, I’m going to go stay with a girlfriend,” Linda challenged him.

“Fine!” He threw his hands up as he went back to his chair. “Go to your little boyfriend’s house and stay there. Your crap will be on the yard in the morning.”

She stood between him and the TV. “What? I don’t have a boyfriend! I don’t have anyone except for your lazy ass. Don’t you dare put my stuff out. This is my house, too.”

“Get out of the way; I can’t see the screen through your body.”

“Why do you think I’m stepping out on you? Tell me,” she insisted.

He muted the TV. The buzz of the air conditioner was silent, leaving the squeak of the fan and the hum of crickets in the air.

“You’re always out! There’s no money in the bank even though you’re always working over. Linda, where does that money go? Where’s your overtime check? Either Kim isn’t paying you or you aren’t at work! You never bring dinner or food home from work anymore. You don’t give a rat’s ass that I’m working from sun up to sun down to pay for this house, your crap, and whatever else you run up on that damn card of yours.”

“I work! I pay for this house, too!” She fought back. “I am working over.”

“Where’s the money? You have a paystub I can look at? You have proof?” He smacked the remote against the armrest. “Let me see it. Bring it here.”

She scoffed. Gosh, she was a bad liar.

“See? Linda, you’re full of hot air.” Fred leaned to the side to see around her. “Go to your boy’s house. Take your crap with you.”

“You can’t be serious! I don’t have a boyfriend. You are just making up the worst thing you can think of because you hate me!” She broke into tears. “How could you hate me? What did I do?”

He watched her fall onto her knees.

“Would you stop? You’re making yourself look like an idiot. Take your coin sock and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Linda froze. Her tears stopped like she flipped a switch.

“Okay,” she mumbled. Her knees popped as she got up.

He watched her walk into the hall. Turning back to the TV, he turned the volume up. The squeak of the fan, the hum of nature, the mindless drone of the show: everything was perfect for Fred. He thought Linda would do one of two things. Either she would pack her things and actually drive herself away to some stranger’s house or she would put herself to bed and things would boil over another day. He hoped she’d leave. If she spent the night out, then he could get a full night of rest. No wondering if her boyfriend would come buck-up at him or if she’d give him something on the rare chance they’d make love… no wondering if he was less of a man for keeping the peace, knowing it was all fake. That’s it. Fake peace. He didn’t want it anymore.

Linda stood in the hallway. She found the batteries Fred had thrown. Carefully, she picked them up and put them back into the box that controlled the air system. She had insisted they get it, and Fred hated when she got what she wanted. He saw it as stupid and a waste of money. She loved it and thought it was a waste of money if they didn’t use it.

As quietly as she could, she went into their bedroom. For a moment, she took the space in and glued it into her mind. She didn’t know when Fred would let her back in or if he even really meant what he said. How did he know about her money sock? Did it even matter?

She packed extra underwear into her purse. The heavy coin sock stared at her. Yeah, she knew he was right. The sock did come from her boyfriend’s place. Well, it belonged to one of them, but if she gave the sock back to the wrong man, all hell would break loose, and then she’d have a headache.

Linda picked up the sock and stared at it. She had a headache now. How could Fred kick her out of her own house? How could their relationship be over? He gave up at the same time as she did. The very day he drank too many beers and she had to drag him inside from the front yard was the day the glimmer fully vanished from their love. The honeymoon phase was already long dead and gone, but on that day, that night… the drag set in. The monotony slammed into her like a sheet of nails.

And now he was leaving her? He was kicking her out? He expected to never see her again? She could give him that. She would give him that.

With the heavy coin sock in her purse, she went back to the living room. Slowly, she shut and locked the windows.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you going to kick rocks or what?” Fred sat forward, giving her a clear view. He put his face in his hands. “We aren’t going through this again, just get out.”

She moved to his side and took the sock from her purse. There was no world in which he left her homeless or tossed her things out in the yard. She wouldn’t let him embarrass her like that. If she needed someone to lie for her, she knew Kim would do it. Kim knew the full extent of the situation and she knew that Linda would do the same for her. They were cut from the same cloth, and Fred wasn’t cut from anything at all. Not anymore.

The boiling point was met.

Wam! Wam! Wam!

She cleaned up and put the sock in a clear plastic bag. The bag went into her purse.

She locked the house and drove to one of her boyfriends’ places. This poor man had a record. This poor man lived alone. This poor man knew Linda was with Fred and took her anyway; Fred would want him to go down for this.

She spent the night, hiding the sock amongst his things. When she came home the next morning, she called the police because someone had beaten her husband of seven years to death.