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Her tears were tainted by disbelief. Marvin’s eyes were wide, though not entirely with shame. Whizzer’s eyes seemed caught and blank, unsure.
They all just stood there. Well, no. Correction. Trina stood there, Marvin and Whizzer were on the sofa, their legs still somewhat tangled. Marvin’s hands were up, almost in a defensive position. Not quite a surrender. He would never. But they were far away from Whizzer that was sure.
Trina didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare move forward, to step closer, to try to at least talk to them about this. But somehow she couldn’t will herself to move away. She couldn’t force herself to run from the room, to even back away slowly and pray that they wouldn’t even have to talk about this anytime soon. Anytime when this man was there. She still wasn’t completely sure of his name .
“Baby,” Marvin tried, but it was like salt in the wound.
“Don’t,” she said, sharp in tone, soft in volume. It was the vocal embodiment of a fracture in glass. Not quite broken, but the start of a shattering. Those cracks were coming as Trina’s composure began to falter and the tears flowed more freely and her voice grew uneven. Her breaths even began uneasy. “Please, Marvin.”
It wasn’t Marv . It wasn’t some term of endearment, though they were far past that when Jason wasn’t around.
Marvin stood up to move closer to her, to try to calm her. Trina didn’t realize that she was shaking until Marvin was almost to her and she put up a hand to try to, somehow, halt him. Her hand was trembling.
Whizzer couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. He had seen photos of her. Marvin had a few in his wallet, at least to keep up appearances. And when he came over tonight, he looked at the pictures of Marvin and Trina with their son seemed to be spread out in the house. Pictures of Jason with missing teeth smiling at the camera, and though he grew taller and his teeth filled back in, those white pearls did not lend themselves to smiling. They gave a melancholy look, contemplative. Knowing eyes. Family portraits where the corners of their mouths told more of a story than the nice clothes and well groomed hair.
“Trina!”
Whizzer looked up to see that Trina was no longer rooted on the edge of the carpet and hardwood the separated rooms. She was within inches of Marvin, her eyes not quite angry but more betrayed. It was Marvin who had said her name so sharply, as if he wasn’t expecting her to be angry. As if he had the idea that she would just back away shyly, meekly, like the mouse he always described her to be.
“Marvin, who is he?” She asked, her tone now harsh. Maybe Marvin couldn’t tell, but Whizzer could see the fissures in her mental state as she spoke. She shouldn’t accept an answer. It would just crack her further.
Of course, Marvin didn’t think like that. “A friend,” he said, trying to ease the situation. No . That’s a lie. Trying to save himself.
“A friend ,” Trina repeated, incredulous. As if Marvin had the audacity to say that to her. “You were making out. You had your hands on his ass ,” she groused, clearly upset. Clearly ready for some rhetorical blood.
Whizzer stood as if ready to make a case for himself.
Marvin, at first stunned, suddenly grew angry.. “Trina, it isn’t your business who I see,” he spat.
Whizzer couldn’t exactly agree. Because-
“We’re married!” She cried in reply.
Yes. That was it. They were married. And Whizzer knew he was a married man. And looking at how broken his wife looked, a bit of guilt ached in his stomach. But… he loved the thrill of Marvin. He loved that more than he felt bad about his poor wife.
“Your name.”
Whizzer looked down at the fuming woman who was only a few inches shorter than him in heels. Yes, that too. She wore shoes in the house. Because her place of work was the kitchen and she was always to look presentable and nice.
“Whizzer Brown,” he said, trying to be courteous despite the desire to vanish from the scene.
They should have been more careful. Marvin and Whizzer knew she was in the other room doing the dishes. They hadn’t expected her to come back to the den so soon. They should have known that they were treading on thin ice. On Eggshells. On a minefield.
“Whizzer Brown,” Trina repeated. She had heard it before. She had heard Marvin introduce him before dinner when she was too shocked that she would have to alter portions and fret over making more sides. The name had escaped her, but his charismatic grin had not. Now she wished her mind hadn’t been so taken in by his smile. As if he was a safe person to trust because his smile was like a first-encounter embrace.
Marvin walked up behind her to try to get her to stop staring right into Whizzer’s eyes.
“Whizzer Brown, get out.” She said, voice filled with venom.
“Trina,” Marvin warned, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Whizzer was certain that Marvin would lose that hand, but Trina let him keep it. For now.
“It’s alright,” Whizzer said, getting ready to leave. He was buttoning his shirt further, which only seemed to aggravate Marvin’s wife more.
“Whizzer, wait.” Marvin took the hand he was dangerously close to losing and put it against Whizzer’s chest. “I’ll walk you out.”
His wife’s eyes grew even more tearful. Gone was her anger now as it was replaced by a mourning. It was a mourning of her delusions about all and everything. About not just the nausea of their wedding night, but the game of solitaire she played every night that Marvin neglected her.
Trina moved out of the doorway as Marvin led Whizzer out, Trina’s face a mess of silent tears. It was turning red with shame and hurt and fear. And when they’d gone, Trina wondered what would happen next. Well, it was to put away the dessert she had prepared and wait for the morning. It was time to survive another night. But maybe she wouldn’t survive the morning.