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John Carpenter: A Short Story

Decent Essays

Delicate fingertips gingerly worked a diamond stud, wiggling it, forcing it through an earlobe. Then the other ear lobe, a clasped secured at the back. Her face shown in the mirror, a smile flashed toward her husband, the smile a mere reflection but none-the-less inviting.
John worked at his tie; truly despising black tie events. Seeing his lovely wife excited and dressed beautifully in a cocktail dress made tonight less of a burden, a pleasure even. By the expression on her face as she lifted long, curled locks of blonde hair off her slender neck, she very well knew the direction of her husband’s thoughts.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she softly laughed, shaking her head. She secured the well-crafted twist of hair into place, allowing wisp …show more content…

His wife was right. He had promised to go. Their days had been consumed with homework and dinner. Sick children. Little league games. Work. Cookouts with the neighbors. His wife had an opportunity to trade in her usual sweats and T-shirt for something elegant which was also a rare occurrence. And it was her favorite aunts wedding anniversary. “Ok,” he said, flirtatiously popping her rear-end. “But as soon as we get home…I am taking this dress off of you.”

John Carpenter couldn’t take his eyes off his wife as they rode across town. He had worked extremely long hours since the boys were born; climbing the latter of success. Not for himself, but for his children. And his beautiful wife. For a nice home in a good, safe neighborhood. For vacations. For extras. But now that he was thinking about it, John couldn’t remember the last time they’d taken a vacation. He was always too busy. Too committed. He was beginning to wonder exactly who he was doing it for. He barely knew his kids…or his wife.
“You are quiet,” she said from the passenger side, her head lolled in his direction. “You mad because I’m making you …show more content…

“Is she here,” she asked. “Your wife…point her out.”
“I would…if I could find her.” But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t point his wife out to this woman. He wanted to find his wife and then make a quick exit. Maybe his wife had stepped outside to hear so she could call to check on the boys. His lager rung the garbage can nearby. “Sorry. Excuse,” he told the woman, headed in the direction of the door to join his wife in the cool night air. Once outside John froze, his stomach plummeting.
His wife stood halfway down the driveway and she wasn’t alone. A man held her by the elbow as if to stop her from walking right past him. His wife had been ambushed while obviously going to retrieve something from the car. Jealously rose up ugly inside of John’s chest. He didn’t want to cause a scene; his wife’s aunt wouldn’t appreciate it. Too many people were present, a crowd inside. What should he do? Walk away, John, turn and walk calmly back inside. Let Racheal deflect the asshole. Your wife is perfectly

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