Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [37]
There would be no time for a second tray tonight. Though he had never been certain about what Christine did in the bathroom following sex, he knew that whatever it was, it didn’t take long. One tray would have to be enough.
Fearful of waiting a second more, Milo held his breath and turned the tray over in his hands, catching flashes of cubes as they dropped and clanged into the sink as the tray instantly lightened in his hand. It was this combination of sensory input, the amalgamation of sound and sight and touch, that sent a wave of relief washing over him, causing Milo to issue an audible sigh.
Thankfully, one tray had been more than enough.
Milo took a moment to compose himself before moving on. The fact that his pants were still around his ankles didn’t help matters, but within a few seconds, he was removing four ice cubes from the sink and splitting them between the two glasses. He was reaching for the bottle of soda when he heard the bathroom door open. Forgoing the drink, he quickly reached down and yanked up his pants.
“All set,” Christine said, her disheveled hair already back in place, her postcoital glow nearly gone. “When you get out of the bathroom, we should really talk.”
Milo didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
chapter 10
“You bought a video camera?”
When Milo reentered the kitchen, he found Christine at the table with Freckles’s video camera and nylon bag sitting in front of her. The plate and cutlery he had set out for her had been pushed back into the center of the table and several tapes had been removed from the bag. Christine was holding the camera in one hand and tape number six in the other.
A lump formed in the back of Milo’s throat. He had placed the camera behind a row of unopened boxes in the living room, not planning to show it to Christine. Apparently she had made a brief inspection of the apartment while Milo was in the bathroom, probably looking around to see how her husband was living. Milo could envision his wife scanning the room, examining piles of books, wondering at the origin of the black and gold lamps that Milo had purchased at a garage sale, and taking mental inventory of the items that he had removed from their home during his move. Had she opened any of the boxes that were concealing the video camera, Christine would have also seen his Dungeons & Dragons paraphernalia: books with archaic covers, multisided dice, an assortment of die-cast creatures, and stacks of notes representing an adventure that he had been guiding his friends on for more than three years. Though she had never spoken in opposition to his role-playing hobby, Milo knew from the persistent absence of commentary that she did not approve.
“No,” Milo said, moving closer in hopes of somehow casually removing the camera from her possession. “I didn’t buy it. I found it in the park a few days ago. I’m trying to find its owner.” Milo knew that he had already said too much. Milo lied to his wife frequently, of course, in order to conceal the demands of the ice cubes and Weebles and the words that became trapped in his head. But, feeling perpetually guilty about the lies that he told his wife, Milo made every effort to minimize his lying in all other situations, and he had managed to adhere to this policy