Collected Stories

Waiting for Her to Come Home by J.D. Coltrane

He lay in their bed in the dark waiting for her to come home. For a time he had listened to music in the living room, sitting on the floor amongst candles and incense. But he knew he needed sleep, so he’d gone to bed. Sleep wouldn’t come, but he didn’t get up. He just waiting there, knowing that was where she would expect to find him.

He was smiling an ironic smile toward the ceiling, thinking of the old adage he had come to regard as something of a cliché. People who marry young, it said, have a lot to learn.

They had married young, he and she – he was twenty-one, just out of the Army; she was nineteen, finished with a year of community college and harboring a strong desire to get out of her parent’s home. They had worked their way through college together as partners and parents. Their five year old daughter was sleeping down the hall.

He had been her first man. She lost her virginity with him in a motel months before they married. The blood on the sheet had unsettled him more than her. She had seemed comfortable with it all, even eager. He had filled a long line of firsts for her sexually, even to the point of introducing her to erotica and buying her first vibrator. She had been a shy but curious learner.

Along the way he gently encouraged her to find herself – not merely sexually, but in life. Express yourself, he had said, find what you want. The chase for her had taken her through art classes, through math, and finally to science and chemistry.

He had watched her for a year, sensing what she finally had come to him and said. They had been lying in bed one night, post-orgasmically, when she said, "I have to admit something."

He kissed her and waited for her to go on.

"You being the only man I’ve ever known," she finally went on in a whisper, "I find myself curious about how it would be to be with another man, to have sex with someone other than you, I mean."

"Wouldn’t that be a natural curiosity?" he asked gently.

"I suppose," she answered with a hint of disappointment in his answer.

"Is there someone in particular?" he asked.

Her delay in responding answered the question.

He pulled her closer and whispered to her. "Go with what you feel," he said, "Find what makes you happy. I trust you to not hurt us, or me, or our family."

That had been a few weeks ago. Now as he lay waiting for her to come home, he wondered how it would all come to pass. She was with her friend, the guy from work, at his apartment, in fact. He had watched her dress for her night out with him, saw her excitement. He had cooked dinner for their daughter and read bedtime stories to her as he wondered where they were, what they were doing.

He heard her car pull into the driveway and timed her walk to the front door. Her key worked the lock and her purse thudded down where she always left it beside the chair in the living room. He listened to her check on their daughter, the squeak of the floor in the hall as she approached, her soundless entry to the bathroom, the flush of the commode, the water running as she brushed her teeth, the scrap of the metal towel rack, the swing of the bathroom door as she opened it, the sound of her undressing in the dark, the rustle of the sheets on her side of the bed as she crawled in.

"Have fun?" was all he asked.

"He couldn’t believe you knew I was there," was her response, "He’s afraid you’ll come looking for him."

He smiled in the dark.

"Was it what you hoped for?" he asked gently.

"I don’t know," she answered honestly. "He was too fast, I think. But it was fun."

"Did you cum?" he asked before thinking.

"Yeah," she answered simply.

He felt a twinge of disappointment he didn’t understand. He moved closer to her and touched her cheek. "Do you want to make love?" he asked.

"No," she answered, "I need some sleep."

"Are you going to see him again?" he asked.

"Next week," was all she said.

They each settled on their side of the bed then, neither of them knowing much about what was to come, neither of them thinking much beyond the night. After all, people who marry young have a lot to learn.