“I would like to be taken into custody tonight, Mr. State Trooper,” Carrie purred.

It was one of the rare evenings when one of them wasn’t sleeping in Michael’s room, to prevent their autistic son from waking up and screaming from 3 AM and until morning. He was mortally afraid of the dark.

Carrie slid her hand down Jon’s stomach so her fingertips stopped just inside the waistband of his boxers. “I am not sure I can be entirely trusted if left to my own devices.”

Jon leaned back on the pillows he had stacked against the headboard.  “Left to my own devices? Isn’t that one of my brother’s favorite songs?” 

He had been half-sitting, watching the rerun of yesterday’s Primary debate on the little TV on the bedroom wall. It was muted but had subtitles. Now he looked at Carrie. “I wonder if he is doing all right in his new place?”

“I’m sure he is.” Carrie moved closer, softly kissing her husband’s neck. Her hand also moved —to exactly the right place. “It’s been what, like four months?” she murmured.

“It’s tough with my job … with all Michael’s problems … and now Emma, I guess.” Jon turned slightly so he could put his arm around her, which wasn’t that difficult because Carrie was already lying very close to him. Very close.

“I know, but they are asleep, finally.” Her hand went into further explorations. “And if we are quiet like your new Samsung up there  …”

“I’m very tired, hon.” He kissed her brow but without fervor. “And I have to get up at five for the next shift.”

Carrie groaned. “Okay … ” 

There was pain in her voice, too. Something he was all too aware of. And a couple of weeks ago the tables had been turned. 

She had been too tired. And then him. And then … 

And so it had been. For years.

“Carrie, I’ve been thinking … ”

She looked up. Her husband seldom used her first name.

“Yes?”

“You know how difficult it is to get someone to take care of Michael for us because of all his needs … Even when your mom and stepfather help out with the financial part, the trouble is getting a stable team of carers who can stay on.”

“They have to start studying, Jon. They have to get full-time jobs.” Her hand went up to his chest and stayed there. 

“It’s not just that. Michael’s senses are overloaded after just five hours in school, and his feeding disorder just makes it all worse.” 

“We do our best to counter that,” Carrie said evenly, “I mix his supplements every day. I tell them to call me so I can pick him up earlier if he breaks down.”

Jon turned off the TV. He turned more to look closely at her. “Yes, but the little guy is so worn out after school that he can’t handle very well when we get a stranger to look after him … after school.”

“Jennifer was good,” Carrie said, her lips tight. “She was good at handling him.”

“But not Anna. Or Jessica. Or …” Jon said slowly. “And each failure and change stresses him more. And us. It’s sometimes more work to get someone to take care of him the four hours a week he can handle than … what we get out of it.”

Carrie sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I wish Jennifer could have come on Tuesdays. You never have an evening shift on Tuesdays.”

Jon breathed heavily “ … I think we should take more turns looking after him ourselves. One of us. While the other gets some R&R.”

He cleared his throat when Carrie’s answer was silence. “Look, we don’t have family anywhere near Yuma. And Emma is not old enough to step in, and with those little rats chasing her in school all the time … ”  

It sounded like he was aiming for something, but couldn’t find it. 

“We already look after Michael ourselves.” Carrie knotted her hand into a fist on Jon’s bare chest and then opened it again. “All the bloody time.”

“But maybe that’s how it’s going to be for many years to come,” Jon said, “and we have to think of ways to … well … make it through all that time.”

There was a heavy silence in the bedroom, like an intruder. Carrie sensed Jon’s tension but she found that she suddenly couldn’t say anything, even though she wanted to. She just felt desperately tired and frustrated. 

Outside on the lonely suburban street, there was no life. 

Everybody had gone to bed. Or had better things to do in bed. 

“There’s this club,” Jon said, weighing every word carefully. “We went there once, remember?”

“I don’t—” 

“—Very long ago. When your mom practically lived with us and took care of Emma. We did it once, just on a whim. Remember?”

“Oh? You mean … that club.”

Carrie breathed again. She felt warmth in her cheeks. And elsewhere.

“I’m not sure I’m so open-minded anymore,” she then said quietly.

“Neither am I,” Jon said, “but we were never as Biblical about all of this as my mother.”

“No. We were not.” Carrie’s lips had tightened. “But it’s been mostly talk. And that one time in the club.”

“What if we went again?” Jon asked gently. “Took turns. Or just went out on our own. There’s this app called Tinder, I think …”

“I know it.”

They looked at each other.

“Okay …” Jon said, “but what do you say? Maybe once a month? Don’t you think that would help? We could still try to get time together.”

“I … want to be with you.” Carrie felt the heat spreading, unwanted thoughts spreading. She kept her hand on his chest, opening and closing it.

“And I want to be with you,” Jon said, “but … it isn’t possible, is it? Not very much.”

“Who says we’ll be less tired for what you are suggesting?” she asked quietly.

“No one. But maybe you can better relax on a day off, if you know I am at home taking care of Michael and, well, Emma. That I will remember all his supplements. That I know how to deal with him so he doesn’t hurt himself. That I can be there for sure until you get back–a whole day if I’m not at work. ”

“Please, don’t misunderstand,” Carrie said in a low voice. “It’s not just about sex. ”

“No, but—”

“ … I don’t want our marriage to fade out. Not any more than it already has … ”

He held her close. “Neither do I. But it’s kind of like … you can’t stop eating, either, can you? Heck, we already eat dinner separately most days because someone has to check Michael from pulling all the keys off the laptop.”

She smiled faintly. “You know I could’ve given you the sloppiest blowjob in the world, in the time we spent talking about who is allowed to go to the Rose Petal Club first? Isn’t that a thought?”

“Are you mocking me, Mrs. Reese?” Jon was trying to be light about it, but he looked at her squarely.

“I’m trying to put on a brave face.” She let her hand relax on Jon’s chest again. “About what’s happening to us.”

Jon nodded quietly. “In sickness and health,” he said. “That’s what’s happening.”

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CARRIE AND JON, 14 FEB 2016

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Cover photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash

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37-210224.1138

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