The people at my job knew I took my coffee black. The employees at the bakery knew I took my coffee black. My kids knew I took my coffee black. The only person who could never make an effort to remember that I liked my coffee black was my wife. Even after I reminded her every morning that I took it with no cream, no sugar. She was deaf to my wants and needs. And that was evident from the love mark I saw peeping out at me from the scarf she had wrapped securely around her neck. She had come back yesterday afternoon. Her shades were on and her lips were set in a thin line. She breezed past me with as little as a hello and headed straight for upstairs. I detected the funk on her breath of alcohol before noticing the limp in her steps. This routine wasn't foreign to me. Usually she would come back the same night, out of courtesy. Then upon seeing that I acted as if I didn't care, she became a bit rude, borderline disrespectful to my household. So I became a bit rude, and borderline disrespectful to her banking account. Forcing her to get a part time job to fund her newfound love of alcohol and other men.

It wasn't something I was proud of. Allowing my wife to have an affair, and parade around as if it was alright. I was hurt, had always been hurt. But that never stopped me from loving her. From holding onto the image of us being a perfect family living a perfect life. That image still shone bright as day in my head. The first time, I thought I would have died had it not been her kisses and confession of undying love for me. I believed her, until she told me that she needed more from me mentally, physically, and emotionally. I agreed, thinking that if I gave her more I could reel her in and make her stay. I was wrong. The sex felt forced between her and I. I teased her, I bit her, and I sucked her until she couldn't breathe. But it wasn't enough. I went back to school again to become reacquainted with the laws of physics and math just so I could make more money to feed into her habits. When that wasn't enough, I planned weekend get-aways every three months for her. That put a smile on her face, but it was a pitiful smile, one that you force on your face instead of telling them that they are not good enough.

That's the smile I received every time I made her cum, or the days we would be standing watching the sun rise over the mountain peaks. It was the smile for the hopeful nerds who could be with the most beautiful girl, not the one who already had her. It took me a while, but I realized that I had already lost her, but it didn't stop me from accepting it. So I excused her acts, thinking it was more of her acting out and calling for my attention. When I turned to give her the attention I thought she so desperately needed, the response came in short kisses that lingered on my lips while she was at the door. Maybe there was a pat on the back, or a rare I love you.

I scraped my chair against the hardwood floor, coffee in hand. "How have you been?" Her nasally voice traveled to my ears across the island. My ears perked at the sound of it. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hoped she would ask those questions out of genuine concern, and not from personal want. I shrugged my shoulders, and asked her the same question.

"Good, good..." I waited for it. I knew there was more. I poured out the creamed coffee that was in my mug, and washed the remnants out of it.

"Oh Aubrey, I'm sorry." She moved to take the mug out of my hand and I moved past her. Along the way I saw it. The hickey was screaming at me. I shook my head to clear the image from my mind, but it didn't work. In that instant I didn't want to be near her, so I poured my coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

"Aubrey?" I ignored her. It was the only way to force her infidelity out of my mind. Out of sight, out of mind, I mumbled to myself. My feet fell heavy on the steps as I moved up them. I heard her footsteps follow me and stop at the foot of the stairs.

"Aubrey!" I stopped midway and dropped my shoulders. This woman wanted me to die of heartbreak. She wanted me to kill her. Instead of answering her, I put the mug of coffee to my lips and allowed myself to sip the scalding liquid. I winced at the pain I felt, and in some way enjoyed it. It took away from the pain I felt in my heart.

"Yes, Mildred?" My heart was thumping against my chest. I was anxious to say the least. It was moments like these that I had hoped she would confess her sins to me, as if this were Sunday, we were Catholic, and I was the priest. But instead, I was greeted with silence. My body turned towards the bottom of the stairs, and I cocked my head, waiting.

After all of these years, she was still beautiful. Like a Sunday morning. Her grey eyes reminded me of the sun shining through a cloudy day. Her skin was still the same color brown she had left it all those years ago at Sebago Lake when she sun tanned naked, only for my eyes to see. Her long brown hair had finally ended up in a shoulder length bob, with girlish bangs settling across her forehead. Today her hair was curled, and hung loosely at the base of her neck. Her bangs were pinned back from her forehead, giving her a younger look, and fresher appearance. Those freckles were still there, and for a moment I was taken back to the days, before the kids, before our marriage, when I actually felt like she loved me. Her innocence, her sobriety, her dignity. It seemed as if in an instant all of that was gone.

Did I do that to her? For a split second I thought of me, and how I had taken all of those things away from her. Yes, it was my fault. It had always been my fault. God, where did I go wrong?

"Aubrey, are you okay?" I felt her touch on my back, where my shoulder blade ended and my lower back began. There was that hope coming again. I breathed in deeply and sucked on my scalded tongue. For a second, I considered shoving her hand away from my person, and telling her no, I wasn't okay. But instead, I turned my body towards her, and forced a smile on my face.

"What is it?" I tried to ask in the most relaxed, gentle voice. My eyes strained to keep them above her chin, and my hand trembled from wanting to snatch that damned scarf off of her neck. Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment I thought she was to kiss me, but she had not. Instead, she masterminded me.

"I need more money sweetheart." Upon hearing her request, I laughed, for I was quiet amused. Oh, the irony. I wished for love, she wished for my money. I guess that what I get right? Because money equaled love, at least in her book. I glanced down at her lips, and noticed she wasn't wearing that cherry red lipstick. No sex for me tonight, I thought. I sighed again, and smiled down at her hopeful eyes. I studied her for a second, wishing for something more than her want of my money, but I got nothing. So I leaned in, taking note of her jerking back from me. Nonetheless, after she had calmed her body down, I planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Anything you want, my dear." My lips stayed there for what seemed an eternity. For it seemed it had been that long from the last time I was allowed to touch her. I glanced down, and took note of the small smirk on her face.
"Thank you, Aubrey." I was already turning around, but her gratitude fell short on my weakened heart.

"Anything to make you happy," my eyes glanced down to the hickey on her neck. She noticed. She squirmed. "Right?"

I didn't give her time to respond. Instead, I was making my way upstairs to our bedroom, where I would spend the next five hours studying layouts, while she disappeared out of my life again.

Today was Georgie's birthday. It was a crisp Monday morning and I had decided to take the day off. I hadn't spent quality time with my daughter since Christmas break. It was now March. Her teacher had canceled class on today, giving me an extra day to go around and get her presents ready. This was usually something that Mildred did, but upon her constant departures in the children's lives, a lot of the social responsibilities fell on me. Especially when Georgina was thirteen and Mildred swore that our little girl still loved The Bratz dolls. There was still a cold bite in the air and I shivered, while huddling towards the door of the bakery. It was set along a chain of stores, back behind a main street. If one wasn't looking, one wouldn't have known it was there. I hadn't known about the bakery until my previous coworker brought in a piece of chocolate cake one day. I swore I was trying to watch my figure, but those objections fell on death ears at the taste of the chocolate that filled my mouth. It was from then that I started visiting the bakery. It was shortly after that I became acquainted with the owner, Lionel, and his wife, Missy. They had been buds of mine from the start, especially with us learning that through the company I worked for, we formatted and coded the systems they used for their computers and screens.

"Hi Mr. Ken!" Upon entering the door, Cara smiled at me and I nodded towards her. "The usual?" She pointed towards the sweets and I shook my head.

"Actually, today is Georgie's birthday. I am just here to make sure everything is set in place for tonight?" Cara smiled at me and told me to hold on. I took that time to scan the area for one particular person. She had called me out. I was never one that liked to be called out, and I was on a mission to redeem myself, even if she was a stranger. But I came up empty handed, and my eyes focused on Cara rounding the corner, bringing a slip of paper with her. The bakery was open until five Sundays and Mondays, with the café side of it closing at three. Lionel had allowed me to buy those two hours in honor of my daughter's twenty-first birthday. Along with the place came the chocolate cake, food, and an unlimited supply of wine.

"Cara," I had inspected the paper, and with my approval, she was walking away again. "I have a question?" Other customers were bustling around us but she stepped from behind the cash register and we stepped to the side. "That girl, that was here the other night, what is her name?" Cara's eyebrows rose in confusion.

"What night? Friday night?" I nodded my head and she shook her head slowly. "Well you know Mr. Ken the majority of us that work here are females. Are you talking about Jamica? The black girl?"

That is all I needed was her name. I needed something magical to match the delicate look of her face. I smiled at Cara and thanked her. "Yes, her. Lionel wanted me to tell him which employers were being so sweet to me, you and she were included in that combo." It was a complete lie, but I didn't want to seem like a creeper. Nonetheless, her ivory cheeks tinted red and she smiled. "Awww, well thank you! That means a lot to me." She patted my arm and walked away with a grin on my face. I backed out of the bakery and smiled. Jamica was a beautiful name.

It was supposed to be a surprise. The boys had come down from Chapel Hill, barely a thirty minute drive and surprised Georgina in her room, tackling her. Her death threats fell deaf on my ears as they tussled with her. She had the same frame as her mother, which made me pretty sure she could defend herself from getting birthday licks. I had called all of her close friends and family to celebrate her coming of age a week ago. They were all arriving at the party fifteen minutes before we were to arrive, then we were to blind fold her. Then I was to come behind her in a nice, big present. At least that was the plan, but Mildred was nowhere to be found and the boys were getting worried.

"Luke, go try calling your mother again before she misses the damn party." I craned my neck to make sure Georgie wasn't listening. All she knew was that we were going out for a family outing. What she did not know was everybody else was invited. Mildred had twenty minutes to show her ass. This wasn't the first time she abandoned her family for one of her rendezvous. I shook my head at the audacity of that woman. Something in me wanted to hate her, but that feeling had yet to come. Her pity was enough for both of us. I pitied me because I could not be the man she wanted to be. I was drawn out of my thoughts by the sound of Bud's voice.

"Hey Dad, you ready to go?" I snapped my head back at him and smiled at my first pride and joy. "Yea bud, just trying to get ahold of your ma. Go ahead and start the car why don't you? Its kind of chilly outside and you know how Luke is." Bud grabbed the keys as he passed by me and headed out door. I released a long sigh. I removed myself from the bar stool at the island and called out Luke's name.

"Hey, did you get a hold of her?" Luke's head popped around the alcove that was set into the living room. "No, she didn't answer. Her phone went straight to voicemail." I shook my head at my second eldest son. He wasn't stupid, nor did he play the part. Out of the three of our children he knew the truth and we made plans to keep it that way. The information of her infidelities did not come intentionally, instead he happened to catch her in the act. When he asked me why she didn't love me anymore, I told him I was wondering the same thing. In a way, he walked around harboring the same hurt as I did, except I was easier at hiding it. At one point in time he chided me to leave her, but I was stubborn in my ways. Love was the name of the game, I once informed him. Family was a part of that game. I had full intentions of keeping this family, with love as the foundation of it.

It was on this thought of love that I beckoned my beautiful daughter to come down the steps. She wore an off white cream colored lace dress that stopped right above her knees. Her hair was pulled back into a bun that sat at the nape of her neck and hoop, gold earrings adorned her ears. She looked like the spitting image of her mother. Those grey eyes never failed to break my heart each time I looked in them. Every day I prayed she would not become her. I kissed my pumpkin's forehead while we headed for the door. I tried to keep my calm on the way out, with Luke whispering that Mildred had texted him. What? Was her message. Fucking what.

I fumed as I tied the bandana around Georgie's eyes. I fumed as we drove towards the bakery. No, I didn't hate my wife, but sometimes I really disliked her.

The lights had been dimmed to make it appear as if we were stepping into a street French restaurant. There were candles placed carefully on surrounding tables, with vase full of roses counting as center pieces. It gave us more of a romantic, intimate feel, as we stepped in, and I nodded my approval at Lionel who was bustling from the back. My hand was placed on Georgie's back guiding her into the restaurant. Her friends and close family were already there, waiting for her arrival. We were the last to walk in, with Bud taking the hands of his little sister entering through the door. Luke held up his fingers to the crowd to give them the countdown. 1...2...3

Our chopped rendition of Happy Birthday sounded like a cacophony of hurt birds. But she was pleased. We saw it in the face that beamed from the dropped cover-up, and the surprise that etched on her face at the people present at her party. I had managed to get her best friend from high school to travel back to North Carolina just for her birthday, along with her only Aunt, who was Mildred's sister. I backed towards the door, phone at in my hand and smiled at the warm feeling that traveled throughout the room. If only her mother could have been there. Her body was being pulled in by friends and family, and I disappeared out the door. Luke had walked through the bakery and out the back to bring forth the car that I had gotten her for her birthday. It wasn't a brand new car, it was actually the one I had originally bought Mildred and had finished paying for a year ago. That was my first strike against my wife. Using the car I had bought her to cheat on me. Instead of taking the car completely away, I decided Georgie could put it to better use than her mother did.

I had made my way to the side of the bakery where there was stationed a patio. I walked into the darkness and waited with bated breath for my wife to pick up. It took four rings for her to pick up.

"Mildred-"

"Oh Aubrey! I am so sorry. I forgot that today was Georgie's party and I got held up-"

"Cut the fucking bullshit Mildred. You and I both know that you don't do shit. You always have some fucking excuse. Always! I don't understand. You wanted kids. I gave you kids. You wanted a new house. I gave you a house. You wanted a new fucking car. I gave you a new fucking car. What else do you want from me?" My chest had begun to heave and I wanted to cry. This woman, who I loved dearly, and would give my life for gave me nothing. She depleted me and I still held on. My muscles tensed at her silence. She always had nothing to say.

"You cheat on me, and I fucking allow it like it is okay. Well it's not okay."

I could hear her sobs on the other end. They meant nothing to me. She not only embarrassed me, but my kids as well. That was the line.  "Mildred, I am done. I am done."

"Aubrey please don't be like that. We can work something else- huh?" Her attention was no longer on me and her sobs had turned into sniffles. I listened intently, waiting for her response. She was talking to somebody. A man. Fuck her.

 "You know what Mildred? Don't fucking come to the party."

"Aubrey-" I hung up the phone before she could say anymore. I hated bringing up her ways. I hated even more making her cry, but one thing she did not understand was that she was not going to hurt my children. I had tiptoed around the subject for too long before Luke found out. I refused to allow her to break my other two children's hearts. I leaned against the table and counted to ten, my hands holding me up for support. I'm so fucking stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is how she found me. I had stretched my body out to relieve the tension that was building in my shoulders. My head was hung low, and instead of allowing the tears to stain my shirt, they fell without caution to the cobblestoned ground. Why did I love her so much when she hurt me? It was a constant thought in my head, throughout the days and nights. It was a question that had yet to be answered.

"Mr. Ken." I didn't even look up to register whose voice called out my name. Instead, I moved to straighten out my body, reposition the table, and roll back my shoulders. My eyes were closed and that's how I had planned to keep them until I heard her shoes scrape against the ground. "Is there anything I could do?"

Her voice seemed genuine, as if she could give me the one thing I wanted.

"My wife." My voice came out in a grunted mess, but upon opening my eyes I studied her response. Her eyebrow was raised in questioning and I took a step closer to her.

"Could you give me my wife back?" I was within a foot of her personal space and stared down into her eyes. I had not bothered to wipe away the free flowing tears that stained my cheeks. I left them there. She shook her head at me, the braids at her back going along with her movements. I watched them, transfixed, then moved my eyes back to her waiting eyes.

"Then there is nothing you can do for me." I moved past her, and I felt sorry for a second at my rude behavior. This girl was sent out here to fetch me, not get caught up in my personal mess. Now, I had treated her just the same as my wife had treated me. I learned a long time ago that dismissal hurts just the same as rejection. It was not until we were packing up and leaving that night that I had learned I had hurt her feelings. I called out her name and she pretended to not hear me. I demanded her eyes to meet mines, and she acted like I was not there. Yes, I had hurt her, and for some unknown reason, I was deeply sorry.