Read Online The Dwelling: A Novel by Susie Moloney - Free Book Online
Authors: Susie Moloney
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alternative. It just seemed like he was always crawling on her. Always wanting to.
It will pass. This is a phase. That was what Donna at work said. We went through it; now we’re fine again. Moving’s hell. She hadn’t told Donna, of course, that they weren’t having sex. Not much anyway. Not like they used to. She hadn’t mentioned to Donna and she wouldn’t, god knows she wouldn’t. Especially not the part about how she just didn’t want to anymore, about how the sight of his hands, his too-long fingers and wrists sticking out of the ends of his sleeves like pale, sickly little tree branches, made her shudder. She and Dan didn’t even talk about it. Not directly. Just the odd shot. Nice to know someone’s getting it around here.
“I need you to hold up this shelf,” he said briskly. She gave the room a good look, her arms crossed over her chest again. He watched her. “Pretty good, huh?”
She shrugged, “It’ll look better when you get the books unpacked.”
“Then hold this while I fix it to the wall,” he said, pointing at the board leaning against the rest of the shelving. She slipped the gloves, large, over her slender hands. She felt her nails push against the ends of the fingers. It felt confining.
He marked a spot on the wall that she could barely see and had her hold the board from the center over the line. It was awkward. She was at an odd angle, her arms up over her head, her buttocks sticking out, her body bent in a V from the middle, her weight on the board to hold it steady.
From behind her, Dan said, “Keep it steady.” She heard the click of a bit into the drill, but nothing else happened.
“Mmmm,” he said. “Nice view from here.” In her mind’s eye she could see the leer spreading across his soft, almost girlishly pretty features. She closed her eyes. Waited. As if on cue, she felt his hand, hot, small, on her thigh. It rose and curved smoothly over her buttocks.
“Nice,” he repeated. She did nothing, least of all react. In a moment she heard him sigh. Then it passed. He got up under her and anchored the board to the wall and to the frame; she kept her eyes shut against the flying sawdust. The little space between them smelled of Dan’s sweat and burning wood. It took only a few seconds and the unit was complete.
She let go and the two of them stood back to look.
“Pretty good. That wood goes very well in here. I wasn’t sure it was going to,” he said, almost formally to his wife, the mood shift firmly in place.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said agreeably. I want to be agreeable, I really do. This will pass.
“I was thinking we should order Chinese,” she added once he ducked to unplug the drill and started wrapping the cord around the base of it.
“Sure,” he said guardedly.
“Okay. Is there anything you want?” With my money?
“I’m open.” It’s your money.
She nodded definitively. The two of them turned at the same time, and found themselves face-to-face, his only inches from hers. They locked eyes. For a moment it was natural, familiar. Then Becca felt a tightening inside herself, bracing for what might (would) come next. His mouth was very close to hers. He had a broad mouth, the sort with an easy smile. His teeth were even and white. Even though he smoked, he didn’t have the same trouble keeping his teeth white as Becca did, who had never smoked.
There was, in spite of everything, something appealing about his mouth. His eyes seemed to bore into her, not pleading like sometimes but worse, somehow, as though he were trying to see inside her, to know what she was thinking.
Cold air seemed to puddle around her feet. She shivered, and pulled back slightly, enough to break whatever had held them there.
“It’s so cold in here. Why is that?” she said. Her voice sounded loud after the silence.
He reached out and put his hand on her arm. It was warm on her bare flesh, hot, really, in the cold air of the room.
For a long time, too long, he didn’t
It will pass. This is a phase. That was what Donna at work said. We went through it; now we’re fine again. Moving’s hell. She hadn’t told Donna, of course, that they weren’t having sex. Not much anyway. Not like they used to. She hadn’t mentioned to Donna and she wouldn’t, god knows she wouldn’t. Especially not the part about how she just didn’t want to anymore, about how the sight of his hands, his too-long fingers and wrists sticking out of the ends of his sleeves like pale, sickly little tree branches, made her shudder. She and Dan didn’t even talk about it. Not directly. Just the odd shot. Nice to know someone’s getting it around here.
“I need you to hold up this shelf,” he said briskly. She gave the room a good look, her arms crossed over her chest again. He watched her. “Pretty good, huh?”
She shrugged, “It’ll look better when you get the books unpacked.”
“Then hold this while I fix it to the wall,” he said, pointing at the board leaning against the rest of the shelving. She slipped the gloves, large, over her slender hands. She felt her nails push against the ends of the fingers. It felt confining.
He marked a spot on the wall that she could barely see and had her hold the board from the center over the line. It was awkward. She was at an odd angle, her arms up over her head, her buttocks sticking out, her body bent in a V from the middle, her weight on the board to hold it steady.
From behind her, Dan said, “Keep it steady.” She heard the click of a bit into the drill, but nothing else happened.
“Mmmm,” he said. “Nice view from here.” In her mind’s eye she could see the leer spreading across his soft, almost girlishly pretty features. She closed her eyes. Waited. As if on cue, she felt his hand, hot, small, on her thigh. It rose and curved smoothly over her buttocks.
“Nice,” he repeated. She did nothing, least of all react. In a moment she heard him sigh. Then it passed. He got up under her and anchored the board to the wall and to the frame; she kept her eyes shut against the flying sawdust. The little space between them smelled of Dan’s sweat and burning wood. It took only a few seconds and the unit was complete.
She let go and the two of them stood back to look.
“Pretty good. That wood goes very well in here. I wasn’t sure it was going to,” he said, almost formally to his wife, the mood shift firmly in place.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said agreeably. I want to be agreeable, I really do. This will pass.
“I was thinking we should order Chinese,” she added once he ducked to unplug the drill and started wrapping the cord around the base of it.
“Sure,” he said guardedly.
“Okay. Is there anything you want?” With my money?
“I’m open.” It’s your money.
She nodded definitively. The two of them turned at the same time, and found themselves face-to-face, his only inches from hers. They locked eyes. For a moment it was natural, familiar. Then Becca felt a tightening inside herself, bracing for what might (would) come next. His mouth was very close to hers. He had a broad mouth, the sort with an easy smile. His teeth were even and white. Even though he smoked, he didn’t have the same trouble keeping his teeth white as Becca did, who had never smoked.
There was, in spite of everything, something appealing about his mouth. His eyes seemed to bore into her, not pleading like sometimes but worse, somehow, as though he were trying to see inside her, to know what she was thinking.
Cold air seemed to puddle around her feet. She shivered, and pulled back slightly, enough to break whatever had held them there.
“It’s so cold in here. Why is that?” she said. Her voice sounded loud after the silence.
He reached out and put his hand on her arm. It was warm on her bare flesh, hot, really, in the cold air of the room.
For a long time, too long, he didn’t
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