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Opposites Repel

He watched as she rolled each neon orange foam earplug between thumb and middle finger, compacting it into a firm miniature traffic cone and cramming it into her ear canal. She once told him that the hollow sound of her own blood flow in her ears reminded her of how she used to feel floating underwater in the pool, aiming for a personal best at holding her breath. She flipped down her black eye mask, and the room and her undressing husband disappeared.
Paul climbed into bed next to Christina and hesitated before spooning up against her. She had already transformed herself into Helen Keller. If only the mask and plugs would heighten her other sensitivities. With a lover, they might have offered a fun prop. He breathed in deeply as he imagined a woman in nice lingerie, or maybe a Mardi Gras get-up, mask covering her eyes, smile on her lips as she waited for what surprise he had to offer her.
The smell of wet dog fur and the staccato gnawing sound of Rex, their golden retriever, chewing his paws interrupted his fantasy.
“Rex!” he commanded.
Tina sighed impatiently and removed the plug from her exposed ear, “What?”
“Never mind.”
“Come on.”
“Not important.”
Blindly, she re-rolled the plug and shoved it back in her ear.
Paul slid his hand up over her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and middle finger. She stayed rigid, too indifferent to encourage or to stop him.
During lovemaking, she always lay there quiet and still, eyes closed, lost in a place of her own making as he kissed her body. He never knew where she went in her mind, was she thinking of another man, a young lover, maybe? The thought that she might actually have a secret side excited him more, and he positioned himself above her and went to work.  
His stomach hung heavy, like a cow’s udder ready to be milked. She had made an irresistible meal of gnocchi with Gorgonzola cream sauce and a side of braised radicchio in a balsamic reduction, with a dessert of sliced pears. The light dessert was her concession to his quest to lose ten pounds.
He rushed a little; he often skipped some of the preliminaries his army buddies had once recommended, but Christina always seemed eager to hasten things.
Abruptly, she put a hand to his chest. “Wait.” And so he paused.
“Did you remember to pick up the ham for Easter brunch?”
He collapsed next to her with a sigh she could not hear. “My god, I can’t believe you are asking me that now,” he answered loudly, as much to overcome the earplugs as to reveal his frustration.
She plucked out both earplugs this time. “Did you?”
“Yes!”
He rolled over with a jerk, his back to her now. He envisioned himself stomping down the stairs, flinging open the door to the garage, retrieving the ham from the auxiliary fridge, and stomping back up the stairs two at a time to arrive back in the bedroom and throw the fucking ham on top of her naked stomach, its pineapple and maraschino cherry exterior poking her with toothpicks.
Christina, meticulous in everything, did not know how to turn off her brain’s automatic checklist. Hygiene and cleanliness, two of her utmost priorities, allowed her to maintain some order in the world. Before bed each night, and therefore before sex, which was of course in the bed, she insisted on brushing and flossing thoroughly. Not surprisingly, the thought of using her mouth on him repelled her.  
He looked around the bedroom, illuminated by the streetlight glaring through the arched window. A potted vine she’d kept alive for the 15 years of their marriage clawed its way around the window.  Except for his underwear at the foot of the bed, which she would dispense with first thing in the morning, the room was pristine. A photographer from House Beautiful could arrive at their home unannounced on any given day and depart with a perfect photo shoot labeled “A Twist on Traditional.”
Yes, sure, he wasn’t the most perfectly reliable person about picking up the things on her list.  The stupid list always seemed to have been left in his other coat pocket or on his desk at work. Often he had had to return to the store for an essential but forgotten item.  At least the moments alone in the car and at the store allowed him some temporary freedom, a moment to talk on the phone or sing along to the radio.

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