The Saxophone Player
Copyright 2008 by Zvi Zaks
Laura dropped a basket of dirty laundry at my feet, right in the middle of our latest fight. It was, like most of our conflicts, about money, relatives, our sex life or lack of it, and division of housework. All of these. With soiled shorts and shirts separating us, she shook her finger at me, her face red, and voice shrill. "Damn it, Richard, I'm overwhelmed. Help me out for once."
"For once? I do plenty around here."
In the upstairs bedroom, the baby cried with colic while her brother, Noah, played with his fire engine and wailed like a siren.
Laura said, "I do ten times as much as you, damn it. I need help. Just take these damn clothes and put them in the damn washer." She wore no makeup, and her lips were pale. Loose jeans and a baggy shirt obscured her figure. What had happened to the beautiful, loving woman I married five years ago?