"And the tears come streaming down your face.."

"I guess you don't understand the concept of a joke," Danielle says now, as I check on the baked corn that is in my oven.

Rolling my eyes, I fold my arms in front of my chest. "You made me think you had sex with Justin and I looked like a fool in front of him." I sigh. "That is so not a joke."

My best friend shrugs her shoulders, not really caring, "So?" Her eyebrows rise slowly, "Why do you care how you look in front of the guy?"

I can see her mind racing with unknown thoughts but I won't let her think that there is something behind my questioning when there is absolutely nothing...nothing at all - I just don't like to be made a fool of, especially in front of the hired help; Danielle should understand this, as much as she claims to despise liars, she should understand that I don't necessarily take kindly to being lied to, it doesn't matter if it were a joke or just some low punch below the belt that is supposed to make me giggle with humor.

It wasn't cool. Not in the slightest bit.

I cut my eyes. "I don't care."

And I don't. Its just the principle.

Danielle scoffs, waving me off. "Whatever you say, Kenny." She scratches her exposed bottom and I shutter with detest.

"And can you please do me and the rest of the Memphis population a favor and put on some damn clothe-"

She snorts. "I have clothes on, Kenny."

Yeah, a barely there shirt and a thong. So much covered to the wandering eye. What the hell ever.

My husband will forbid my best friend from ever stepping into his house ever again if he could only see how she chooses to cover her very pregnant self; nudity is not one of Parker's strong suits, he kind of likes to keep his nude body for his eyes only (which I don't have a problem with) and my body? Parker tends to like me better when I reveal less flesh and more dress. If that makes any sense, at all; he gets more of an arousal by my thick, cotton housedresses than by my nude form actually giving him what seems to be a worthless attempt for a blow job. I never question his odd ways of seduction, if anything, I oblige his commands, feed his appetite in the kitchen and in the bedroom whichever way that he pleases and bathe the aftermath of our love-making from his body as if it never existed at all.

That is another thing about my husband I might not ever understand - he cannot stand the aroma of our intimacy on his flesh for the life of him - me, on the otherhand, I kind of like to lie in the moist of our bedsheets savoring the ten to fifteen minutes of love-making that has come to pass, because it is in those fleeting minutes that he and I are truly one with each other, our souls are entwined, we are entwined more than we could possibly ever be in these fleeting minutes and I want it to last, I want it consume me whole.

But the moment passes as quickly as it shines over my nude form as my husband orders to wash the sheets immediately, ridding the memories of him and I and our empowering love as nothing but of a meaningless fuck; I know he means well, my husband...he...well, I just know he doesn't mean any harm to my soul, to my heart, and its not like I'll ever tell him that these little, unimportant things really ache my being...it really justs fucks with my mind when things like this happen, all the damn time. When we were newlyweds, I guess I might've been more understanding then than I am now - I had to be naive to think that it was a compliment on his part to want to wash my moist from his body as quickly as possible so he wouldn't have a certain "smell" to him, but now, it could possibly be the most degrading action my husband has ever done without truly knowing what exactly he is doing...to me.

He has to rid himself...of me.

That has to do something to a woman's confidence at least it fucked up mine for quite some time, I don't think I-

"Your silence can only mean you agree with me," Danielle's voice interrupts my prolonging thoughts and I snap my head up in her direction, frowning. "Anyway," She scratches her butt, again, and I guess she forgets to make her way over to the sink to wash her hands so I help her...by pushing her pregnant ass, "I'm heading to that new outlet store off on Mockingbird so I think you need to go and 'head and put your cooking on hold 'till we get back."

I pull the last catfish from the frying pan in front of me and place it on the plate full of fish that I've already cooked, turning off the stove, I sigh. "We? I'm not going with you."

Danielle is drying off her hands now. "Oh, yes you are." I shake my head. "You're a fucking hermit in this damn house...its kind of freaky of how much time you spend cooking, cleaning and cooking some more...your husband is gone, so stop living the life he has laid out for you and enjoy yourself."

I turn off the oven and decide to let the corn cool off before I pull it out. "This is the life I'm used to, Danielle, and I am enjoying myself." I whisper, low.

She rolls her eyes. "And I enjoy being pregnant."

She's so full of it.

"You're lying."

Her brow rises, "So are you."

Blush reaches my cheeks as I twirl my loose strands of hair that is dangling over my shoulders, nervously. "I made this lunch, though-"

Danielle sighs, loudly, annoyed. "Woman, this damn food will be here when we get back! I ain't never seen someone who is so fucking obsessed with eating so damn much but their ass is stick thin-"

I bite down on my lower lip, my heartbeat increasing. "Justin's joining me."

That shuts her up, finally.

Well, at least for two seconds and then she's back in for the kill. "Oh," A smile. "Oooh," A wide grin. "Oooooohhhh!!!" Laughter.

Um, okay...what is her issue?

"I know he's probably hungry-"

She snorts, "Yeah for some of that pootnanny!" She is rolling over in laughter now, cheeks are blazen red and her eyes are watering.

I roll my eyes in annoyance but a small smile creeps upon my features slowly - she's so fucking disgusting, and off, so off that is ridiculously funny - I can't have a male friend without it seeming like some sort of behind the scenes foreplay action going on; if my best friend thinks I'm trying to lay my gardener, I can only imagine what the gossip around town will be if Justin and I ever decide to actually hang out with each other on a regular basis, beyond the walls of my house and out into the daily activities of this small, secluded town.

Oh, Parker would not be happy, at all.

I cough. "Shut up, Danielle, its not like that." She's still laughing in hysterics. "We're trying to be friends, I think."

She waves me off, her laughing has slowed down some. "Bitch, you're delusional."

My eyes wander to my kitchen window as I have a clear view of my gardener as he is plowing away in the midst of dirt and and filth - disgusting. "No, you are."

I cut my eyes to my best friend, shaking her head. "Really, Kenny, you are if you think you can be a friend to that fine ass man out there." She licks her lips, "Shit, I would've fucked his ass last night but...I don't know, he started getting all jumpy and shit, talking about we don't know each other to do something like that."

I eye, warily. "Danielle, you don't know him."

She shrugs her shoulders, "So?" Scratching the nape of her neck, she sighs, "You think I care 'bout something like that when that boy is as fine as he is?" She points her index finger at me, "You better fuck that man twenty different ways 'till Parker brings his fat ass back down here or I will kick your ass, Kenny, I'm so fucking serious."

I purse my lips. "Why would you even say something like that?" I push her finger out of my face, "You know I don't cheat."

"Dumb whore!" She yells, giggling. I roll my eyes. "Its not cheating if nobody finds out about it."

She is so crazy. "I take my vows very seriously, Danielle," She is groaning now, annoyed, "I love my husband."

"And if you love dick, you need to get your fix while you have the chance."

I scoff, "I don't need dick like you do, Danielle."

Some people might think that this is a low blow but my best friend isn't hurt in the slightest - her feelings aren't abused by the truth, if anything, she welcomes it. "Obviously," She mumbles underneath her breath, moving away from me and heading to her room, "I'm going to get dressed and in case you don't know, my friend, you are an idiot."

I blush - she has no idea what she is talking about.

* * *

I lick my lips slowly as I watch in silence as he finishes his meal and stands from his seat to place his plate in the sink - my instincts suddenly rise as I notice he is now washing his plate, I quickly stand, shaking my head - thats not his job.

Its mine. Its always been mine.

"You don't have to do that, Justin," I'm standing beside him now, my hands move without me thinking and I find my fingertips grazing over his hands, slipping from the wet dish from his grasp; I think nothing of it, of course, I'm trying to be the nice, upstanding housewife - this aura, in the kitchen, cleaning, cooking...thats my thing, thats what I'm good for, thats my job as a woman, as a wife and I feel a bit intimidated if someone tries to step into my boundaries, my territory, my domain, I think nothing until I feel his penetrating gaze on me, watching me, studying me...judging me.

He probably thinks I'm psycho, shit, I might be.

His hands are still rested inside of the foamy, moist water as I search for the dish towel, my eyes refuse to find his, I don't want to see how he perceives me, how he views me...the shit might really hurt my feelings.

I chew on the inside of my mouth, I'm getting annoyed with my long hair, its constantly been getting in the way. "Where is that damn towel?" I mutter, nervously.

Justin waves the white small towel in front of my eyes, teasing me slightly, and I move to retrieve it from his fingertips, but instead, he grabs the plate from my grasps and motions for me to sit down, I allow myself to look at him now - he's smiling, not just his lips, but the smile has reached his blue orbes. He's happy. A sigh of relief escapes me as he nods to the seat that I just vacanted. I shake my head.

"You're my guest."

Now, he shakes his head. "And you're my boss," I blush, "Its okay, Kenzie," I won't budge and he chuckles, softly. "Girl, if I don't clean up after myself my mom will put her foot so far up my ass."

I giggle. "But, your mother isn't here."

He rolls his eyes dramatically, playfully bumping my hips with his own, causing me to stumble back a few steps. Its not a big deal. I breathe out slowly as I cautiously sit down and he whistles. "Thank you, sweetheart." I cut my eyes away from him as he begins to wash his drinking glass and I have an itch to stop him but I don't, somehow, this feels nice.

I'm so used to catering to the people around me that this feels nice, so nice, and its only a dish or two but its just the simple act - the simple thought of being kind to someone without realizing what you're actually doing seems to touch me deeper than I expected it to - Parker has never washed one single plate since we've been married, he's never cooked anything, has never done laundry, I'm not sure if he's ever ironed his own clothing, because I'm there, I'm always there to cater to his every need, every want, every demand. And I do this because I love him, I love him more than sometimes I care to realize, I do this because he's my husband, I do this because he expects this of me, anything less is considered failure in his eyes. And I never want to fail. I can't fail.

So, this right there, what Justin is doing is so small, so unimportant, but it warms my essence...it just feels so damn nice.

"Your husband never washes dishes?" Justin is saying now, his back is to me, and I glance to my hands in my lap, shaking my head, even though I know he can't see me.

"Thats not his job." I mumble, gently.

The man before me chuckles. I blush with embarrassment. I'm about to look like a major fool. "So, I'm guessing its yours?" He turns off the sink water now, settling his glass into the drying sink, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, he turns around now, facing me, so tall, so content, so attentive.

This leaves me unsettled.

I swallow. "Of course it is." I run my fingers through my hair, trying to find something to keep me occupied. "I'm the wife. He's the husband. Its my job."

He folds his arms in front of his chest, cocking his head to the side, I glance at him, frowning. "Is that you think marriage is? What love is?"

I hate when people judge me on how I choose to handle my relationship with my husband, okay, so, it doesn't work for everyone, but it works for me and Parker and I kind of rely on the steadiness of our marriage to keep me going, to keep me believing that maybe I won't be completely happy for the rest of my life with my husband but at least I will always have someone to love me, to cherish me, to adore me in the best possible way that they can, that they know how to.

All I ever wanted is to be loved - my husband gives this to me the only way he knows how to, and its not good enough to the next woman, but to me...its everything.

"You've never been married, Justin," I say, slowly, "you wouldn't have a clue to what a real marriage is."

He smirks, "My folks been married more than twenty years, Kenzie, and I've never, ever, heard my mother call loving her husband a job." He shakes his head slowly, pushing himself off of my counter, his eyes cut away from my gaze. "But don't mind me, I'm over-stepping my boundaries."

My heartbeat increases suddenly. He doesn't understand. No one ever understands. "You wouldn't want your wife to cater to you?"

Justin smiles, his eyes finding mine. "Of course I would, but you see," He moves closer to me, his tall lanky frame hovering over me, drowning me in his aroma of dandelions and lillies, "anything she does for me, anything she gives, anything she supplies...I'll give it back tenfold; not because its a job, not because we're married, but 'cause I love her." He sighs, "'Cause she's my woman. Thats the difference between catering to your spouse and being their slave just without the whips and the chains."

I should be offended. I should fire him. I should rip him a new one for saying that shit to me but instead I remain motionless. I'm humiliated. Is this how people see me? As my husband's slave? Not as his adoring, perfect housewife? I lick my lips quickly, tasting the remains of the meal I've just consumed as I push myself up from the seat I'm occupying and move away from his haunting frame; I cover my flat chest with my arms as I head to the backdoor, my mind blank.

Why hasn't my husband called me today? Why isn't he concerned? Why do I always doubt our strong love for each other when he is away from me?

"Forgive me, Mrs. Adams," I can hear his voice behind me, so sincere, so honest, something my husband just is not. "I shouldn't have said that."

Too late to apologize now, buddy.

I turn around to face him - I'm not going to cry, I never show emotions but still, my heart is aching right now - I'm not as strong as I want to be, I'm not as strong as I wish to be. "No, you're right, Justin," My blank eyes find his sorrowful blue orbes and I smile weakly. "Its good to b-"

"No, you were right, Mrs. Adams, I don't know you and your husband." He shrugs his shoulders, "I...don't know why I said it," He moves closer to me, backing my small body into the wall, "Please forgive me."

I shiver underneath his gaze. I wish he wouldn't be so close. I wish he would give me some sort of space. I can hardly breathe with him this close to me, to my pounding heart. "Yes, you do." I whisper, my breath hitting his chest, "and its all right, Justin." I sigh, "I need that. I need honesty." He widens his eyes, unbelieving. "Its refreshing."

He nods his head now, eyeing me, warily as he steps back. And I have the sudden strange urge to pull him back. Back to me. "Well, I should get back to the fields now."

I watch in silence as he moves around me, heading back outside and I can hear the rhythm of my heart in my ears, I can feel my lips moistening, I can taste my sweat. "Can I join you?"

Justin seems terrified. I want to laugh. I didn't mean to scare him. "I really am sorry, Kenzie."

I blush, waving him off. "I heard you the first time, Justin," I move beside him, staring into his confused eyes, "the gardens are my safe haven," I whisper, as if I am telling him a secret, in a way, I am - I never tell anyone how much those flowers and plants mean to me. Not even Parker. "You don't mind the company, do you?"

The terrified expression slowly diminishes from his features and is quickly replaced with a wide grin, "You're more than welcome to join me," He holds his arm out for me to hook my arm through and I do, smiling, relief washing over me.

We begin to step outside of the house until my phone rings - I roll my eyes in annoyance as I motion for him to wait as I move to the phone and glance at the caller ID - my heart races...its my husband - what would be the fucking odds? I chew on my bottom lip as I glance down at the cordless phone before my eyes, debating, praying, thinking - I want to talk to him, I miss my husband, I miss the warmth of his flesh against me but I know he will only speak of things to his interest, of his liking, damn me and my feelings.

I just don't want to hear that shit right now.

So, I do something I've never done before, never even considered, I turn away from the blaring rings of my phone and hook my arm back with the man beside me and I walk out of my home, a teasing smile dances on my lips.

"You don't need to get that? I could wait." Justin is saying now, as the wind blows my long waves back from my face, the sun beating against my pale skin.

I grip a hold of his flesh tighter, loving the comfort of someone who seems to care, who seems attentive, who seems everything Parker is not, and I hold onto him for dear life - I'm afraid of letting him go, I'm afraid of this being some dream, some wonderful dream and when I awake...Parker is here, once again, ordering me around, like I'm his...slave, I hate to say it, but thats what I am to him. Not his lover. Not his best friend. Not his wife. But his slave, his dumb unknowingly slave.

How could I ever be so dumb? So foolish?

"No need to, Justin," I say as giggles escape my lips as Mamie follows close behind us, "its nobody important."

* * *