The Politics of Marriage


For my writing group last week, our topic was politics. Now, I don’t know diddly about politics because hypocrasy and double speak make my head spin. So this is how I chose to handle the subject instead.

“Honey! Where are my cuff links?” Brodie called to his wife from the huge walk-in closet.
“Wherever you left them, honey!” She answered from the dressing room.
“I left them right here on top of the dresser.”
“Then they’re still there.”
“They aren’t! Where did you put them?”
Cassandra walked out of the dressing room in her underwear and stockings. “I haven’t touched them. What do I need with a pair of cuff links?”
“I don’t know! But they aren’t where….” He found them, swallowing his angry comment.
Smirking, his petite, redheaded wife walked back in the dressing room. She came out a moment later in a sleek, tight fitting black sheath dress with black, strapless pumps on her feet.
“How do I look?”
He glanced at her, admiring the view, until she turned around. The dress didn’t fit well across her rear end.
“Well, it’s a little too formal, don’t you think?”
“Sweetheart, nothing is too formal for one of your mother’s big bashes.”
“Maybe you’d look better in the sapphire blue dress you wore at our wedding reception?”
“Brodie, what’s wrong with you? You’re flushed. Are you ill?”
“No, fine.” He dug at his shirt collar, trying to loosen his tie.
“Is there something wrong with my dress?”
“Well….” He held out his hands helplessly. “It doesn’t fit like it did a couple months ago.”
She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means… well, sweetheart, in all honesty, it’s a little snug.”
“Snug? You mean it makes me look fat?” She turned her rear end to the mirror, staring over her shoulder. “Oh, my God! I look like a Hummer! My butt looks like the front end of a truck! And you were going to let me go to Lena’s house in this? Malcolm Wallace Brodie!” She took off her shoes, throwing them at him.
“I suggested the blue dress for a reason,” he said, ducking. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Cassandra!”
She slammed the closet door in his face. “Don’t talk to me!”
“Honey, you’re three months pregnant. Of course things aren’t going to fit exactly like they did a couple months ago.”
“I get it. I’m fat. Fat, fat, fat! Well it’s your fault!” She bellowed from the closet.
“I wasn’t the only one there,” he mumbled, taking a step or two away from the closet door.
“I heard that!” She came out of the closet dressed in her bathrobe and slippers. “I’m staying home.”
“Sweetie. Cassandra, you can’t. Mom’s expecting you. Us….”
“I can do anything I want. I don’t have to go just because Lena expects it.”
“Wear that pretty red dress you wore to Reva’s wedding…. Or the one you wore to the opening last month. That was really cute.”
“I don’t want to go now. You said I looked fat.”
“No, honey, I said …. you look beautiful, Cassandra. Please, come with me. You’ll look gorgeous no matter what you wear. In fact, you could go in your robe and slippers and look better than any other woman there – even Lena.”
“Your mother is a super model, Brodie.”
He could tell she was softening. Pushing his advantage, he took her in his arms, holding her close. “I’ve seen pictures of Mom when she was pregnant with me. You totally blow her away. Do you know she gained nearly 75 pounds with me?”
“No! Lena? You’re kidding!”
“Porked out. She was huge. Of course, I’ve never pointed that out.”
“That wouldn’t have been nice.”
“You know what dress I’d like you to wear?”
“Which one?” She snuggled next to him, playing with his tie.
“That pink one you wore the day we met.”
“That was a business suit. I can’t wear that to a party.”
“Well, maybe you’d like to wear this instead?” He reached into the top of the closet producing a dress box.
Cassandra’s eyes glowed as she fumbled with the lid. “Oh, Brodie! It’s beautiful! When did you buy this?”
“I got it the day after you told me you were expecting. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
She held up the bright blue dress. The lines were free flowing, the material light and airy. It brought out the color of her eyes, setting off her red hair.
“You know what makes me the happiest?” He said as he helped her dress.
“No, what?”
“It’s now a perfect fit.” Kissing her, he thanked God he was well versed in the art of diplomacy.

About these ads

2 thoughts on “The Politics of Marriage

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s