...Do Us Part.

            I feel his hand push itself between my back and the cushion of the couch behind me, and in a matter of seconds, my husband has his hand around my waist as we watch a movie. We both smile, his wider than my own, before both turning back to the screen before us.

            The wife, a straw-haired, middle-aged, but still attractive woman, walks into the kitchen to face her husband, an overweight slob with too much facial hair. They begin the same argument that has happened three times before, and each hurls insults at each other.

            Before long, the sound of a slap permeates a sudden silence, and I find myself turning my face in time with her, as his hand strikes her cheek.

            I see my husband, and he’s laughing. “D’ya see that, Mag? Maybe that’ll teach her to treat him more like you treat me, right?” He squeezes me closer to him. “You’re my little buttercup, y’know that.” I give another smile and nod my head.

            “That’s right, dear. I love you, and nothing could change that.”  He ends his thought with a flash of a wide smile, loosening his grip on my waist before we both turn back to the television.

            The attractive woman is now on the ground, back touching the cabinet doors below the sink. She is using the countertop to support her weight as she pushes her body back up onto her feet. They’re both still yelling, but the woman is shaking. Her hand wraps around a handle protruding from the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink.

            The man is halfway across the room, but she reaches him before he even finishes another sentence, and his snarling is ended with a loud clang.

            “What’re ya doing? Get back up. Show her you’re in charge! Mag, I haven’t ever seen a more pathetic man in a movie. Aren’t you glad you married me instead?” His hand grabs mine, and we sit in silence for a moment, watching the credits float from one edge of the screen to the next.