Minor Crisis

Chapter Two

The house was quiet when Brett entered, heart in mouth. Placing his shoes on the rack, he gingerly stepped upstairs and along the spotless carpet towards the bedroom. He paused with his ear pressed to the door; met with silence, he turned the knob as quietly as possible and went into the room.

It was pitch black inside apart from a sliver of moonlight seeping in through the curtain. Bett could see Kennis' body spread out over the bed and waited for the heavy rise and fall of her chest to signal that she was still asleep. He tiptoed with feline softness to his side of the bed and swapped his wet clothes for a pair of scratchy pyjamas Kennis had gifted him a few years back. They were horribly itchy, but at least they were dry. Tiredness gripped him. He set himself down gently on the bed, removed his glasses, and leaned into his pillow. He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantaneously.

***

Sunshine peeked through the gap in the curtain and birds chirped, rousing Brett from sleep. It took all of his self-restraint not to flinch as he saw Kennis move towards him. She layed her head on his chest and he cringed at her strong-smelling shampoo. He'd grown to hate that scent.
"Good morning, Bretty-Brett."
"Morning, Kennie" Brett knew she loved the nicknames.
"I'm tired, go and make breakfast, will you?"
"Left-over pasta bake from dinner?"
"No, make something else. The pasta bake was gross." Brett removed himself from her embrace and stood up, pulling his long sleeves down over his wrists to fiddle with them.
"I'm sorry you didn't like it," he mumbled.
"It's okay, just make breakfast better," she smiled a sickly smile that turned Brett's tongue sour.
"I don't have time. I've got to get to work," he carefully avoided her eye.
"You're not going to work today, remember Bretty-Brett? I told you yesterday. You've got to stay and look after me," she pouted her lips.
"But Kennis, it's my first season with this orchestra, I can't miss any of it."
"Call me Kennie!" she folded her arms, "And just call in sick."
"I can't do that, you know I can't."
"Call in sick!" Brett was taken aback by her dangerous tone. He acquiesced, wanting to avoid an escalation of the situation.
"Okay. I'm sorry, I will."
"It's okay, just don't argue with me again," sugary-sweet Kennis had returned.
"I won't," he assured her, leaving the room, appetite diminished.

He thought hard over what to make Kennis for her breakfast and settled on yoghurt and fruit, one of her favourites. He set to work cutting and arranging fresh fruit in a bowl, his back to the doorway. Kennis entered the kitchen and sidled up to him, startling him as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. He felt her hand flat against his stomach and a wave of unease rolled through him.
"No breakfast for you today, Bretty-Brett. You're getting fat."
"Okay," he mumbled. Kennis' hands wandered down to the hem of his shirt and crept underneath, heightening his discomfort.
"Please don't do that," Brett said, panic Bubbling in the back of his throat.
"Don't be stupid, Bretty-Brett, you're so beautiful. I'm just appreciating you," she placed a kiss to the base of his neck.
"Please stop!" His voice broke as he pushed back against her to free himself, but she was taller and stronger than him. She pinned him to the counter and bit down hard on his neck. He whimpered. She let go and spoke in a cheerful voice.
"I'm hungry. What have you made me?"
"Yoghurt - and f-fruit," he stammered through blurred vision.
"Mmm, delicious. Thank you, Bretty-Brett. Go and call in sick, then you have husband duty to tend to." She left him standing there, dazed, blinking back tears.