Paden Wicks

Another night passes, and I stand at the kitchen counter, my arms holding up all my weight. My actions keep replaying in my head, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to atone for the sin that I have just committed.

“Cam? What are you doing out here?”

I turn around to see my wife walking into the kitchen from the stairwell, her hair is up in a messy bun and she’s wearing one of my old t-shirts from high school, she’s still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Hey babe, it’s nothing. I’m just thinking about some things.” I say as I walk up to her and wrap her up in a hug.

She pulls away and glares at me in a way that only she can, “’It’s nothing? That’s what you are going with? It’s 3:00 am and you are brooding over the sink. Now are you gonna lie to me again? Or are we actually going to talk like adults?”

“You’re the one wearing a shirt from my high school.” I say to her, trying to change the subject.

She rolls her eyes and playfully walks a circle around me, looking me up and down, her eyes more piercing than ever before.

She stops right in front of my face, but I can’t meet her eyes. “Look at me.” I try to turn away, but she grabs me by the face, “You son of a bitch.”

She turns towards the fridge and throws open the door. While she’s distracted by that I sprint up the stairs and hear a faint “Oh my gosh!”. Not long after that I hear the loud, clomping footsteps of my upset wife trailing me up the stairs.

“Cameron Mitchell!“ I hear her yell. By this time, I’ve made it to the bedroom, but am pinned between the wall and her, the bed being the only buffer between us.

“Babe! Listen, I’ll buy some more! I promise!” I cry out through a laugh as she runs towards me. I jump over the bed and run back down the stairs. I think that she’ll give chase, but then I hear the bedroom door slam shut.

I walk into the kitchen and turn off the lights that my wife so rudely left on earlier. I walk into the living room, grab a blanket off the chair and lie down on the couch. As I begin to drift to sleep, I can’t help but think about that damn last slice of pie that got me kicked onto the couch.