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Staccato
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Staccato She fell backwards onto the bed. Her arms and legs spread dramatically as she huffed. He had lost her, and now the consequences were due. Long growling sighs crept up from the pillows where her head was now buried. The rustling sounds of the blankets and sheets adding an undertone while she diligently unmade the bed. The slow writhing movements of her arms and legs could have been mistaken for purposeful stretching if it were not so destructive. This is a trifle. So much for a relaxing evening, he inwardly cursed. Turning away, he continued working the knot in his tie. Each attempt less successful than the last. “Would you please knock it off, Miss?” The exasperation in his voice breaking the command into a weak plea. Silence filled the room, and he froze. Shit, is what he would have had time to think if her decisive answer had not hit the back of his head. Pushing his head down to avoid another missile, he marveled at the force she would have had to launch the small throw pillow to push his head forward like it did. Dodging into the bathroom, he avoided the next pillow as it impacted the door and banged the door knob into the wall. “Hey!” he yelled, not daring to peek around the doorframe. “What the hell were you thinking, Mister?” The pitch of her voice bouncing easily off the walls in a sharp echo. “Setting up a dinner date with those ? We swore off being out in public with them forever ago! Why on earth would you do this ? Have you seen the way they chew with their mouths open?!?” The barrage of complaints coming swiftly, punctuated with an audible shudder. “Miss, please!” The earnestness in his voice was far from affected. “We can’t avoid them forever. It is your family, afterall,” his argument directed squarely off the door in an attempt ricochet the need at her. The sharp breath loud enough intimate her shock, “low blow, Asshole!” There was no denying the capitalization of that title in his mind. The mash of creative expletives and plush missiles left no misunderstanding in the air. He made his move reach for the door in an effort seal himself in the bathroom ride out the storm. Chancing a look towards the bed, he could see the devastation was near total as the blanket was the only remaining article of linen on it. Her arms and legs were thrashing in the air forcing the blanket to bounce precariously near the edge. He closed the door and clicked the lock into place, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He was not that fortunate. “You -of-a-bitch, Mister!” bellowed through the door clearly. “No, sir! You are not going to hide. Be a man, Princess!” The insults flying through the solid wood effortlessly. But, he did not hear her leave the bed. It was a better sign than his hope had allowed. Give it a minute, Miss will tire herself out, the lie comforting him. The tirade continued with muffled thumps banging against the door. She must have pulled those off the chair, he thought quietly to himself, hoping she didn’t hear him. The bed creaked loudly and the sound of violence ended. His nerve kept him immobilized for another minute while the silence chipped away at his curiosity. The vision of what the bedroom must look like now took shape in his mind. Even though he knew better, the image of smoke, fire, and as unyet exploded artillery shells decorated the shambles of what had once been one of his favorite rooms in their home. His imagination filling in the gaps of silence on the other side of the door. His hand rested uncertainly on the handle of the door, turning slightly to feel the ping of the lock coming undone. Opening the door a few inches, he was unable to see anything but the foot of the bed and there was no sign of her.. Quickly, he threw his head out to look down the hall to be sure she wasn’t lying in wait. The soft giggle from behind him melted the smile he had been wearing until now. Shit, he thought, turning slowly to look at her laying on her bac She was upside down him and staring straight into his eyes as she worked one exposed breast in her hand. “Hey Mister,” the low purr in her voice revealing the nature of her predation to him. “How’s ‘bout we calls and cancel, yeah?” The suggestion slid from her lips easily to catch in his throat. |
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