“You were very tense today.” Raj exits the shower into their room, a large towel around his waist. His hair drips droplets of water onto their carpeted floor. Recent years have added pounds to his middle, but his arms and legs have retained their leanness from when they first married. Black hair mixed with silver covers his brown chest, but the hair atop his head has remained its original color. “About Gia.”
“I’m fine.” She prefers not to discuss it. Their conversation in the car made it painfully obvious to Marin that she had failed to fully explain to her daughter the value of a good college education. She reviewed plans to rectify that immediately. A trip to tour the East Coast and the Ivy Leagues was the obvious first step. Gia would naturally get excited about the campuses and living across the country. Even though she still had a few years, it was time. Marin convinced herself that Gia’s indifference was nerves—fear of living away from home. With a game plan in mind, she felt calmer. “We should get to bed. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Gia’s tennis tournament.” Raj removes his towel and sets it on the hook. Naked, he slips under the covers and watches Marin turn off the lights. “I can take her if you need to work.”
A month has passed since the last time they made love. Raj was the usual initiator, though Marin rarely refused him. The night before her wedding she was taught that sex was a man’s right. No matter how successful a woman became, it was her duty to fulfill her husband’s needs. It was the only place in their relationship that Marin did not feel in complete control. No matter how often she tried to convince herself that the pleasure was both of theirs to have, she always felt empty and alone afterward.
They had an easy pattern when they made love. Two positions, or more often just one. He finished first, quickly. If Marin needed a release she would guide his hand between her legs. Spooning behind her, he would rub until she found her satisfaction. Sometimes it was quick, but if it took more than ten minutes she would pull away. Her body’s failure to respond meant she was not ready. It was a waste of both of their time and of precious sleep to continue trying.
Tonight, however, Marin is not in the mood. She can pinpoint a number of reasons. Work has exhausted her. The hours of reviewing documents, finalizing deals, and instructing her team on projects seemed harder than before. The conversation with Gia. But the scene at the hospital, if she is honest, is the real culprit. The realization that her father might never emerge from his coma—that the man who defined her life was now losing his—jars her.
“Are you wanting to have sex?” Marin asks. Her voice is sharper than she means it to be. Before he can answer or move toward her, Marin says, “It is probably not a good night.”
“Of course. No, it is fine.”
He is embarrassed. She can hear it in his voice. In all the years they have been married, Marin has turned him away only when she has her period or is ill. Today neither is true. Instead, it is the chains of the past rattling. Trapped in place for so long, they became rusty with age. With Brent in a coma, the lock seems to have loosened, but no matter how hard Marin tries, she cannot free herself of them. She imagines her father’s disappointment in her failure to please her husband. She shakes the thought aside and turns to the man she has shared a bed with for years. “I have a lot on my mind,” she says as an explanation, though he did not ask for one. “The hospital, everyone there.”
“It is not a problem.” He shifts, turning his back to her. “Good-night, Marin.”