Free Killing Them Softly by Roy Glenn

Sandra," I said, rustling through some papers on my desk, trying to present the impression that I was working, and not fantasizing about having sex with Avonte. "Give me I few more minutes, and we’ll be ready to go."
    "You know something, Devin . . ." Sandra walked slowly into the office, kind of lifelessly.
    She plopped down in the chair and exhaled very deeply. I looked at her eyes. She didn’t look tired. But it was almost as though she was dragging herself. Which was out of character for her; Sandra never got tired. I’d seen her go two days in this office without sleep. By the end of the second day, all of us were done, but not Sandra. She was trying to lead us in a sing-a-long of " We Are the World".
    ". . . I envy you," she said, fanning herself with the report she’d spent all night working on.
    "What do you envy about me?"
    "You and Taye. Taye really."
    "Why’s that, Sandra?"
    "You two seem so happy together. I mean, you guys just took a romantic trip to Puerto Rico."
    I smiled, thinking, If you only knew the truth of how our relationship was going, you wouldn’t say that. "I love my baby. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me," I lied.
    "Me and Ike don’t do anything together."
    "Y’all don’t watch television together?"
    "When we watch TV, yeah, we’re in the same room, but we’re not together. He sits in his chair, I sit on the couch, and that’s that. It’s like we’re strangers sometimes."
    "You don’t think he’s fooling around on you, do you?"
    "No. Well, at least I don’t think so. I mean, when would he have time? I could set a clock by him. He leaves the house the same time every morning, gets home the same time every night. He never goes anywhere. He doesn’t have anybody he hangs out with. No one ever calls him, except his family from Texas. I try to get him to go out after work with the guys he works with, but he won’t go."
    "Y’all don’t go anywhere together? Have a drink, catch a flick, nothing? Go to a restaurant; nothing like that?"
    "If I don’t cook, we don’t eat."
    "Damn, that’s whack."
    "Fucked up is what it is," Sandra said, slumping lower in her chair.
    I never knew it was like that. I felt bad for her. Sandra was one of the nicest people I knew. Everybody liked her. She was always so alive and friendly. I never would have thought that she was that unhappy. Or was she? "How does that make you feel?" I asked like a psychologist.
    "You want me to go lay down on the couch?" Sandra said, as she started to get up.
    "Sit down, girl; it ain’t that type a party."
    "I was about to say . . . since you’re trying to psychoanalyze me." We both laughed. Then Sandra got up and walked toward the window. "I tried talking to him about it. But he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong. He says, ‘It ain’t like we argue.’ And he’s right. We don’t argue. But sometimes I wish we did. Maybe then he’d show me some passion."
    "Hey," I said, pointing a cautioning finger. "Be careful what you wish for."
    "You’re right. I sure don’t wanna go there. But a little emotion would be nice. A little emotion directed at me would be better. Just a little bit of passion, maybe. What am I saying?—A whole lot of passion. I don’t think that’s a whole lot for a wife to ask of her husband."
    "No, it’s not," I agreed, thinking that it wouldn’t be a whole lot for a husband to ask of his wife.
    "See, passion ain’t no problem for y’all, is it?"
    "Nope. I think we got that part covered," I lied again. But I was thinking about lying on my back and opening my eyes to the site of Avonte riding me.
    "So when you get home, you’re gonna wake Taye up and go for it. Ain’t you?"
    "Yes," I lied again, and wondered why I was keeping up this front.
    There would be nothing going on in our bedroom that night, or any other night. But it wasn’t always like that. I remembered when we first got together. It was like we felt each other sometimes. One minute we’ll be talking and