Prioritea

Henry cringed, shoulders to ears, head turned, eyes closed, as Ruth banged baking sheets and cake pans around under the counter. She continued to talk as if there were any chance Henry could hear her soft soprano over the racket.

"Babe!"

Ruth paused her frantic search, but remained on her hands and knees. "Yes?"

"I can't hear anything you're saying," Henry said, smiling through mild irritation at her antics.

He heard a soft scoff. "What else is new," she answered and kicked her search into a higher gear, causing Henry to place his index fingers in his ears.

The racket ceased, except for the metallic slam of a copper kettle on the granite countertop. Henry unplugged his ear canals and admired Ruth's supple wrist, spotless hand, and beautifully manicured pink-painted fingernails. The rest of his wife was beneath the other side of the breakfast bar.

He heard an exasperated exhale as she slammed the thin cabinet door, and a light groan as she stood up, using hands-on-knees to push her torso vertical.

She's drinking tea, again. Hmmph. The last time Ruth had converted from coffee to tea had been before her first pregnancy.

"You weren't listening to me, anyway," she said, grabbing the kettle and heading to the sink. Henry quietly calculated the odds of her rinsing the dust out of the old kettle before filling it. 40/60.

"Yes," he said as he watched her beat the odds and drop some soap and a sponge into the kettle's fill hole. "I heard everything until you started banging around."

"And?"

She used a wooden spoon to guide the sponge around the inside of the kettle.

"You want me to turn down the promotion because we don't need the money. And - you didn't say it, but - you want to spend more time in your job and need me to pick up the slack with the kids and the dogs."

Ruth turned on him, splashing soapy water on his shirt and tie as she gestured with the spoon. "I did not say that."

Henry ignored the water blessing. "That's what I said."

"I did not say that," she repeated. "And it's just like you to put words in my mouth."

Henry sighed. "I said you didn't say it."

"I've never said you aren't doing your share with the kids," she said and turned to rinse the kettle. Henry just waited, choosing to let her mid-conversation editing go.

She turned again, waving a dish-towel this time. "Ok, you're right. I have said that. In the past. When I'm pissed. But I know it's not true. You know I know it's not true."

Henry nodded, looking at the floor and the soapy water she'd splashed a good ten feet.

Would she use tap water in the kettle? Or the filtered water in the fridge. Henry figured a 90% likelihood of tap water.

"But I did not say that you should turn the promotion down because I want my work to be the focus now."

"I said you didn't--"

"It is, however," she turned from him to fill the kettle from the tap, "interesting that you're up for yet another promotion, and I'm still in the same position I had when we met."

"That's not exactly--"

"I mean," she slapped the tap off and spun around, kettle in hand. Henry watched more water hit the floor. "I'm not stupid. I was already CFO when we met, and unless I move to a new company, there's not much room for me to get promoted. And you weren't even a partner yet. I get that."

Ruth turned back and resumed filling the kettle. Henry said nothing.

"Still," she said, walking the now-filled kettle over to the range top, "there is a sense of injustice in all of this. You get three promotions in five years--" She spun around again, this time empty-handed, but her eyes wide and hands up as if fending off criticism.

"All warranted! Trust me. I get it. I've watched you work. All warranted!"

Henry nodded and smiled. Will she remember to turn the heat on the kettle? 30/70. No, 20/80.

Ruth walked towards the cupboard that held the coffee and tea, her chin toward her right shoulder as she spoke.

"I remember the first staff meeting when Roger told me he'd hired an amazing new Harvard guy who was going to be a fast riser."

Henry quietly turned the burner on under the kettle, then returned to his place at the counter before Ruth turned back with her tea supplies in her hands.

Her eyes were sparkling now. Lip quivering.

"You really are an amazing leader, Henry," she said, holding his gaze with a heart-breaking tilt to her head.

Henry blew her a kiss.

Ruth caught it, pretended to put it in her shirt next to her heart, then turned and put two tea bags into her cup.

Henry walked up behind her, placed his hands on her narrow, athletic hips, and kissed her gently on the top of her blonde head.

She placed her hands on the countertop and leaned back against him, lightly touching her butt into his groin, which instantly responded.

"I'll tell you a secret," he whispered into her ear, causing her to moan just a little.

Henry paused and she pushed back against him a little harder. He didn't move, just enjoyed the physical and emotional contact and pondered her pleasure in knowing she could make him respond this way after three kids.

"I want to turn it down," he whispered, cupping a breast and kissing her ear.

Ruth turned to face him, causing him to back away for just a second; a gap she quickly closed, her chin up as she scanned his eyes.

"Tell me," she whispered.

Just then, Henry heard a groaning protest from the baby monitor on the countertop. Pressley, their eight-month-old, was waking and beginning to fuss.

From the back room Henry heard Juliette, his oldest and a fourth-grader, yell, "I got her!" As Juliette started to run up the stairs, Henry heard a second set of clomping footfalls following her closely - Peter, his only boy.

Henry turned to his wife, whose attention had not left his face.

"I miss them enough already," he said.