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HARVESTING JEALOUSY by Julie Jennings

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HARVESTING JEALOUSY
Julie A. Jennings Copyright © 2002

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My name is Marcus Adders. Yeah, Adders like the snake. When I was young people used to tease me by calling me Adder boy. I sure did get tired of that. Well, when I was eighteen I met my wife. It was a whirlwind romance and we were married two weeks later. She is my Princess, the darling of my life, but she does have some faults.

The day of our seventh anniversary, she met up with a man from her high school. She was only going to talk business. Yeah, right. We all know why women want to talk to men other than their husbands. I followed her in my green Camaro. They stopped at the park full of maple trees and evergreens. This is supposed to be our place. What the hell does she think she is doing? He opens the door for her and they sit on the bench with their notepads and pens. Love letters, I bet. How sick. How sick can she get on our anniversary? I mean, after all, when someone has been married seven years and has two rambunctious kids, shouldn't she be faithful?

Traina is two and a half and I tell you that little one sure takes up a lot of attention with my wife. I know it doesn't sound right to be jealous of a little whirlwind, a child of mine, but I am. What can I say? Maybe it comes from the time when I was a child and my parents threw me into foster care. Talk about unwanted. I must have gone through eight foster homes in my life. None of the people wanted a ten-year-old child. Karl is ten now. He has my black curly hair and dark skin. Guess my Greek genes were dominant, but he acts like her. Like now, sitting so close to that man. Karl gets that close to his mother. I don t think that's right, really. A hug here and there I understand, but there is an intimacy I don't like.

Where are they going now? I want to yell and scream at Sarielle, my wife. She stands. The sun glints on her hair like one of my photographs of the sun shining on the mountain. Beautiful, serene. My love for her beats heavy in my heart. Unfaithful creature. I bite my lip to keep quiet. What can she do to me? What am I afraid of?

They walk over to the swings and talk. Animated. Like two lovers deep in thought and conversation. Still writing their stupid notes. What idiots. There is more to life than that. Can't Sarielle know this? I love her with the passion of Poseidon. Our life has been in turmoil like turbulent waves over smooth sand.

I sneak through the woods behind the park and peer out waiting for that kiss. I know it will come. If not today, someday. I'll catch her. And then what? I'm not sure. I can't lock her in the closet can I? Well, she'll get hers. What comes around goes around as the old cliche says.

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I reach into my shirt pocket, pull out a cigarette from the pack, and light up. I'm far enough where they can't see me. My fingers tremble as I make some decisions. Sarielle. My Princess. Lost to me.

I go back and drive around for a couple hours. When I get home and enter the house, Sarielle greets me at the door. It smells good in the house. Aromas of oregano and tomato sauce fill the rooms. She takes my coat and hangs it up. So kind of her.

Traina runs up to me like a rushing waterfall. Her blonde hair so like her mothers. I lift her into my arms. Not to hug her, really but to keep her from breaking something in the house. She presses a red rose to my nose. "Thank you, sweetie." I move it quickly away and put it in a vase. I hate flowers. They remind me of funerals. And I've been to many in my young life of twenty-nine.

Our maid brings in a tray of food. Lasagne my favorite sits on the gaily-decorated table. We are all seated pleasantly. Traina is settled in her booster seat with a long red plastic art bib. She reaches for her food and tumbles the peas to the ground. Screaming. She's screaming. God. I can't stand it. "Sairana. Get off your duff and take care of your child. The peas are smashing into the carpet."

Karl ran from the table and came back with a large white towel. He knelt scrubbing the carpet.

"You're only making it worse Karl. Let your Mom do it."

"I was only trying to help, " he said, quivering.

"It's okay, honey." My wife said and patted his head. How is the child going to grow to be a man if she keeps molly coddling him?

Dinner is served. Things are calm. I'm anxious to tell Sairana about my workday. It had been one hell of a day working in the Spice factory. I used to like spices but after eight years of working with them, it's changed to pure hatred. "Sairana, I was working on grinding the spices and packaging when . . . I rolled my eyes.

"When, when I went to Peeschool I wote a story bout a Princess and a doggie. Want to see it?"

"I'd love to see it darling." Always supportive that woman but damn it. The youngster should be taught manners; after all, she interrupted me.

"What did you do today at school, Karl?" my wife asked, her voice like silken honey.

"Nothing much." He looked down at his plate.

"I'm sure you did something, how was drama?"

Karl's blue eyes brightened. "I got the part of Romeo. Maria is going to be a perfect Juliet with her long brown braid she always wears."

My anger rose to a mountainous volume. "I'm getting sick of this family and all their interruptions. Really Rain, you should teach them better manners."

"They're just children, Marcus. You don't need to be so jealous of them."

"Jealous!" I slammed my fork onto the table. "Let's talk about what you do behind my back."

She paled. "I haven't done anything."

"No? Then who was that man I saw you with?"

"You followed me? How dare you!"

Her slim figure rose from the table. Sexy, curves in all the right places. Didn't she understand that she belonged to me?

"I followed you. I have every right. You're my wife. Who was he?"

She stood behind the chair, hands gripping it. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"A surprise? Oh, I was surprised all right." My stomach tightened like the belt around my waist.

"Listen. I have made a spice cake let's talk while we eat desert." She tried to smile but a tear slipped down her cheek.

Good for her. She ought to be crying, after her little outing. Spice cake? No way. I hate spice cake the way I detest this family. I grit my teeth.
"No."

"I'll get the spice cake, Mom, if you want." Kurt spoke up.

"Thank you. That would be great."

Always the pacifier, the peacemaker. Never making waves. The goody two shoes. Yeah some goody two shoes hiding a lover behind my back. Everyone sat back at the table and the cake was brought out. Happy Seventh Anniversary and many more.

"Excuse me a minute. I'll be right back."

I shove myself out of my chair and marched to the bedroom. In the second drawer. beside the bed. was my favorite thing. I stroked its hard cold steel as if it was my pet. Yes. Soon. I put the gun into my pocket. I wore those large overalls with big pockets. You could hide so much in there. I returned to the table where all the family sat quietly waiting.

"You were saying something about a surprise, Rain."

"Yes."

I pulled the gun out quicker than jiggety jag and shot across the room. I hit my mark--Traina went down; blood mingled on the wall, in her curls and soaked up the carpet. Screams. More screams. I pointed my gun at Karl.

"No Daddy." He raised his hands in the air as if to stop me.

"The perfect son, yeah right." Another shot fired. He crumpled to the floor over his baby sister.

Sairana stood there rigid as a board. No scream. Just the most precious look. Her green eyes widened and froze as if stopped in time.

"Want to explain the man?" I sneered waving the gun back and forth toward her.

"He's my …"

If I can't have my family. No one can. I fired the last shot straight through the heart. She fell to the ground. Her last words were "My editor."

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JULIE JENNINGS lives in Washington and is the mother of three teenagers. Her favorite activites include walking on the beach, reading mysteries, thrillers and romances, and visiting her local library. Julie is the Romance Course Facilitator for Writer's Village University and teaches at the online creative writing school, Pearls of Writing: http://writing.jrjennings.net. She is currently in the revision process of her first romantic suspense, Villa Manchez. Her short story, The Last Holiday appears in The Sun Never Rises: A Rainthology.