Biscuits and Gravy

“It’s you though, Sarah! Something is really wrong, here. Every time I express a concern I’m the enemy.” His voice was brash.

“Elliot. You're being dramatic. You always do this, turn nothing into something.” She clipped on holiday earrings too large for her face. “Hurry up, honey. We are going to be late. You know how my parents are about Christmas. I’m dressed and ready to go!”

“See? You're more concerned with how we’ll look if we’re late than with fixing us!”

“Elliot, there's nothing wrong. You're imagining things again.” Warning in her eyes. “You know how you get.”

Elliot threw his hands into the air. “No. Not this time! I’m tired of hearing how I’m the problem every time I bring up a feeling I have that you don’t like. It’s bullshit and you know it, Sarah.”

She sighed, tilting her head with a smirk dressed as a genuine smile. “What I know, dear husband, is that I don’t want to be late and hear about it all night. Can we please put a wiggle on it?”

Elliot sat on the bed. Hard, so he bounced. “You're not getting it. We go nowhere until this is resolved, one way or the other.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh for… fine. But let’s make it quick. I seriously don’t want to deal with being late.”

He stared at her. Stared through her. “Why can't something human come out of your mouth, Sarah? Just once! Like, what the hell is actually wrong with you? Why is an upset relative we see twice a year more important than my fucking feelings?”

“Elliot. Honey. Your feelings are usually wrong when they're bad toward me. Remember? Like the last time? You thought I was texting the guy from the supermarket and it all turned out to be silly. This is the same thing. Put it out of your head. It’s me… Sarah. We’re fine, okay?”

Elliot slowly shook his head, a smile that said I’m not crazy, but I’m not sane, either, spreading on his unshaven face. “No. No, no. There was something going on, there. I know there was. You're just too good at what you do. But I’m on to you. In a big way. No more doormat Elliot. You're gonna sit down on the bed here with me and you're going to tell me what the hell has been going on. You're acting different again.”

A mother’s smile. “Going on with what, honey?” She reached for him and he flinched away. “I don’t understand. I so love that mind of yours, how it problem-solves and navigates us through life. But it’s also destroying us. These thoughts you have, these things you suspect all the time, they aren't real!” Her eyebrows climbed and her face lit up. “You know, honey, you do like to write stories. And you read a lot, too. I bet it’s just one of those stories seeping into your real life because it was so intense or something. Please, honey, we have to go.”

Rage crumpled the flesh of his face into doughy clay as his skin took on sunset hues. “If I hear about this party one more time before I feel this has been resolved, I’m not going. You're not listening. You're minimizing and deflecting.” He held his hand out. “Give me your phone, then.”

She twirled the curls of her hair, orange and coarse, through long and slender fingers. “What? My phone? You're really starting to concern me, Elliot. Is there something you aren't telling me?”

“See? You're doing it! Right now!”

“Doing what, Elliot? This fit of yours is ridiculous. I've played along, we had our talk. Get up and get ready. Please?”

His expression grew serious, his voice a quiet storm. “Unlock your phone, and give. It. To. Me.” He looked up at her and smiled. “What’s the worst that could happen, since you're so honest? I browse around a bit, find nothing, then we go to the party. See? It’s real easy. If you want to look through mine you can.”

A long and theatric sigh, gaze to the ceiling. “Okay. You're really starting to piss me off. Drop this, and we can pick it up later. I promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing, Sarah! Nothing at all! Not one promise you've ever given me has come true. Not even next door to true! It’s like all you can do is lie! I don’t get it!”

“Lie? Oh, no no no, mister. You know damned well I don’t lie. I have high morals and I was raised right. It’s you who can't be on time to simple things, ever. And you're paranoid! I really think you should get seen, Elliot. It’s out of control. We were just trying to have a nice evening and then boom! Out of nowhere, here’s your mind again, playing tricks on you and hurting us. Yanno? Stop being so sensitive and find your balls, man!”

He smiled. Big this time. “I have found them, you unbelievably shallow demon. You're watching them drop, right now.” He rose slowly off the bed, grinning wide like an escaped lunatic. His light blue pajamas lent to the part. “And you get to watch it! Isn't that neat, Sarah? You get to watch your boy of a husband finally become a man, right in front of you!”

“Oh, my God,” Sarah said, hands on hips. “That’s quite a show. I wonder, is there an award for that performance, or was it just because you love me so much?”

“See? You just did it again!” He pounded his head with his palms. “You're fucking with me, and I didn’t see it before! But I do now.”

“Look at you, Elliot. You're a mess.” She reached for him and he batted her hand away. Another sigh. “Come on. You know I love you. This is just another episode. Let’s get ready and go and you’ll see. The drive will set you straight.” A salesman’s smile.

Elliot gritted his teeth and shook his head. “No. No! I know what this is, now. It’s called reactive abuse, and it stops, this instant. You push me and push me and push me and when I finally explode, it’s oh, no, we’re here again?”

Sarah acted surprised, but the smirk was back. “Reactive abuse, eh? Wow. Sounds deep. What the hell you been watching?”

“Not watching, Sarah, reading. Reading. I thought I was was going crazy, or had always been crazy, or something, so I looked online, found a few books. Been reading.”

“Elliot, you're way out of control, honey. I had no idea it’d gone this far.” A tilt of the head, her bottom lip pushed out. “My poor baby. Mama will make it all better. After, when we get home.” Her hands went from sitting on her hips to caressing them, each a soft and deliberate pendulum on either side of her groin. “We’ll make it a special night.”

Elliot spat on the floor, regarding her as someone might regard a mudded-up pig on a farm. “No. No way. Do you hear me? This shit is just more manipulation. You really think I’m stupid, don’t you? Well, I’m not. And we’re not going anywhere until I see what’s on that phone.”

The calm confidence she’d displayed throughout was waning, cycling into anger. Her eyes were slits, lips pulled back in a snarl. But, there was something else, wasn't there? Something she had always tried so desperately to hide, like shit in a swimming pool, lingering and bobbing and floating around, just under the surface: fear. The things he was saying, and the way he was saying them, were striking a chord inside her, a chord borne of a song she was in no condition to hear. Ever. “So you've gone crazy. Great!” She threw her hands over her head and they came down at her sides in muffled slaps. “First it’s the guy down at the grocery store. Then it was the bar dude at the bowling alley. Remember? Elliot? I mean, come on! You know you do this.” Contempt on her face. “You're just lucky I put up with it. If I didn’t love you so much, I swear I’d… No other woman would put up with this crap. And it’s every couple weeks now, Elliot!”

“Yeah! No shit it is! I’m fine in your eyes as long as I can pack up my emotions and ignore them! But I can't ignore them anymore, Sarah! That’s what’s happening! And you know it. You do this on purpose. And even if you don’t… I’m not going to tolerate someone who does this on accident anymore, either.”

Sarah recoiled. “Are you saying we’re… we’re done?” Her eyes welled up. Tears slid down puffy cheeks to puffier lips. “How can you just turn on someone like this? It’s insane!”

But Elliot had stolen her confidence and was wearing it, trying it on in the dressing-room mirror. “The fact that you can even say any of this, when all I asked for were answers or your fucking phone, is what’s insane, Sarah. Like, cuckoo.” He lifted his head, eyes narrowed. “You're a trap. Nothing more. There’s no love in you. Only control, and ego. As long as I’m praising you and staying quiet, everything is great. But the moment I feel something, need something, it’s back to Elliot’s crazy. I don’t even know who I am anymore! It’s too much. And it ends, now. Do I get the phone or not? The choice is yours, Miss Nothing To Hide.”

A scowl, a folding of arms. “Fine. I’ll go to the damn party alone.” She walked to the bedroom door and turned around. “Be in a better mood when I get back. I’ll tell them you felt sick.”

Elliot ran his fingers through his short brown hair, clasped them behind his head. When he spoke, it wasn't much more than a whisper. “What are you doing, Sarah? I mean, look at us! Look at this.” His eyes pleading. “What would you think? If I wouldn't show you mine? And you suspected something?” Arms in front of him, open, palms up. “Come on, just let me see really quick so we can go have fun. I’ll tell them I made us late.”

Spotting his tactic, Sarah’s expression hardened. “No. It’s stupid. And it’s so late. I have to go. I love you. Don’t wait up. You know how Uncle Kyle gets.”

Elliot stared at her, his own eyes welling up. “You don’t get it, Sarah. I’m done. Really really. I’m not doing this anymore. This can't be love. It can't. And if it is, it isn't the right kind for me. Not by a country mile.”

She shot him an accusing look before speaking. “If you feel your life would truly be better without me, then I guess I have no choice. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you to this point. I still don’t know how, but I guess I did. And now you're going to give up on me, just like everybody else.”

“Keep on being the victim, Sarah. It tricks them all. Even me! It tricked me, and I thought we had something. I thought you needed me and I needed you. Or at the very least, I thought we wanted each other. But you don’t need me. Hell, you don’t even want me. You want someone who stays obedient, plays the part, swallows all his emotions, and tells you you're the greatest at fucking bullshit Christmas parties so they all see how wonderful our life is. But it isn't, Sarah! It isn't! Not for me. And you couldn’t give a damn less.” He sneered at her, waved his hand toward the door. “Go. Go to your party. Tell them how happy we are, since lying is your specialty. I won't be here when you get back.”

She reared her head, arms flailing as if off balance. “After all we've been through? This is the thanks I get? This is how you repay all my kindness and love? By walking out on me? Are you serious rightfuckingnow?”

“Again, you turn it into you. You, you, you! It’s always about you.”

Her voice became soft, eyes mimicking empathy. “But, don’t you remember? When we first met? That little roadside cafe in Somewhere, Utah, that had the best breakfast ever? We’re biscuits and gravy! Remember? Honey, Elliot, we’ve always been biscuits and gravy! I’m sorry if I get a little harsh sometimes. And yes, you've caught me in a couple lies—small ones—that I have apologized for. I thought we were past all this! Can't we just look forward?”

“Right! That’s exactly what you want! Move forward and forget all the horse shit you have shoveled at my feet, over and over and over again. Just, move forward from that, please! Onward and upward! What, so you can do it to me more? I mean, come on! Even an idiot eventually learns. All you do is cheat and lie, and I’m tired of it. Clearly, you aren't into me. Or monogamy, or really even being anything but a snake in the grass. A bad person. And I don’t deal with bad people anymore. Do you understand? Don't give me this biscuits and gravy trash, either. That never meant a thing to you. I know that now. Just another way to control me. Biscuits and gravy my ass. More like Vitamin C and cyanide. Fuck this. No way. You’ve told your last lie to me and I’ve played fake happy at my last party.”

After a moment, Sarah wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and glared at Elliot. “That’s fine. I guess I don’t know you at all. I would never do something like this to you. Never.”

Disgust flooded Elliot’s face. “Get out. Never again. Do you hear me? Never again.”

Sarah sniffled loudly, grabbed a small white jacket from behind the door, and walked into the hallway. Elliot listened as high heels clopped onto the tile in the kitchen, car keys slid across the kitchen counter, and the front door opened, then closed with a bang.

He stayed still until he heard the car start. He exhaled as the Toyota’s headlights swept across their bedroom window, too bright and too sudden, and were gone. When he couldn’t hear the car anymore, he had a thought: What nasty picture of him was she going to paint this time so that everyone thought he was a shithead? Sick my ass. She won't get anything out of that. Then, a moment of clarity: She’s probably gonna tell 'em I had some episode, that I’m not right in the head and I’m going through something, that I need counseling.

He sat in the dark, his mind on autopilot, already devising ways to explain away whatever asshole thing she was going to tell them, when he began to laugh. He laughed harder and harder and louder and louder. I don’t have to deal with whatever she says, he said between fits. She can tell them I turned into an axe murderer and came through the fucking door smelling of whiskey and foreign women. I don’t care!

He continued laughing for several minutes, a seemingly endless attack. Slowly, inevitably as the tides, the truth of the matter revealed itself to him, and he cried. He cried until no sound came out, until there was no strength left either in his stomach or his cheeks, until there was nothing left anymore to cry about.

When he felt better, he went into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. He shaved, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and grabbed his favorite suitcase, the one with embroidering that to him resembled a racing stripe. He thought it was cool. Sarah had called it stupid. “You're stupid,” he said aloud to the empty room as he threw his clothes inside and ran the zipper.