“What is this place?” Brian looked around at the small cottage, complete with white picket fence and happy couples lying on blankets on the grass in the front yard.
“It's supposed to be a peaceful place where we'll rediscover ourselves,” Justin replied.
“So far I see all my nightmares coming to life.”
Justin led the way down the paved path to the door, smiling at the happy couples around them. How he wished he and Brian would be like them by the end of the week.
He was about to ring the doorbell when Brian pushed the handle, breezing past him into the cottage with a sour look on his face.
There was a small reception desk behind the staircase.
“Hello! Welcome to the Mystic Love Shack! We hope you enjoy your stay!” The cheerful young lady behind the counter greeted them.
“Thank you! We sure hope—” Justin started to respond with a big smile, only to be interrupted.
“Just give us the goddamn key,” Brian muttered.
Mary, the girl's name tag read, wasn't deterred by Brian's grumpy mood. She checked them in, handing over two keys, and instructing them how to reach their room.
"This is a real key. They don't even have access cards in this place. Where have you brought me?" Brian lamented, stomping up the stairs.
Justin sighed loudly. He was tired of the same arguments.
Brian went to the bedroom, looking around with a frown. Justin followed. His heart did a little jump when he noticed the queen-size bed.
“There must have been a misunderstanding,” Brian said.
“They don't have any other rooms available. You won't die if you sleep next to me,” Justin explained.
“Fine. But you're not allowed to complain that I snore, which I don't.”
“And you are not allowed allowed to complain that I take over the bed.”
“Fine.” Brian started unpacking his clothes.
Once Justin was done with unpacking his own bag, he said, “I'm going to the reception to check the time for dinner.”
“I won't eat whatever crap they feed you here. We're going to find a restaurant.”
oOo
“I'll never complain about Liberty Diner again,” Brian muttered.
They were waiting for their order at a local diner where the serving lady seemed bored out of her mind. They had to wait forty-five minutes for their soup to get there, and when it arrived, it was cold and tasted terrible. There was also a fly buzzing around the place, mostly trying to sit on Brian's beer glass.
Justin tried to save the situation by ordering a second course. Steak and fries—no one could get that wrong, right?
It turned out the chef liked to undercook the steak, so much that it was almost mooing.
Brian tried selecting the more cooked parts of the steak but eventually gave up. He caught Justin's eyes across the table. It wasn't his husband's fault that the diner's staff was incompetent, but it was his fault they were in this place to begin with.
“If they expect me to pay for this crap, they're mistaken,” he declared.
“We can't just leave, Brian,” Justin tried to rationalize.
“Watch me.” He stood up, ready to go.
In the next second, the waitress approached their table. “Is there a problem, sir?”
Justin cringed, knowing Brian's temper was going to land them in trouble. He stood quickly, wrapping an arm around his husband's waist with one hand resting on his chest.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Justin said sternly. “We'd appreciate not being charged for something we couldn't eat.”
Brian stared at Justin curiously, but he was pleased Justin had taken over. He'd probably get arrested if he confronted the staff.
“Was there something wrong with the food?”
“The soup was cold and tasted like boiled socks. Dirty boiled socks,” Justin explained seriously. “The steak was not cooked, and the fries were burned. I'm really sorry, but we won't pay.”
The waitress bristled. “If you leave this pace without paying, I'm going to call the police.”
Brian glared at her. “Please do. I'd love to tell them about the sketchy place you run here. So unless you want this diner closed for poisoning the customers, you'll allow us to leave without paying. We promise not to badmouth this place.”
Justin bit on his tongue, trying not to laugh. He thought he heard Brian adding “too much,” under his breath, which was funny as hell.
As the waitress argued about collecting payment for their order, a few other diners started voicing their own problems with their meals.In the middle of the madness, Brian grabbed Justin's sleeve, pulling him out of that place. They walked quickly down the street, glancing behind them every few seconds.
When they’d put a good distance between them and the diner, Justin exploded in giggles.“Remember that time, a few years ago, when we left that fancy restaurant in New York without paying?”
Brian smirked. “The service was terrible. And that waiter was a troll.”
“In comparison to this experience, that one was a hundred times better,” Justin contemplated.
“True. Anyway, where are we going to eat now?”
“We could go into that store and get some snacks. Then when we get back to the hotel, we can search the Internet for food establishments in the area.”
“You know, this is all your fault. None of this would have happened if we were home now.”
Here we go again, Justin thought sadly.
The shopping trip went better than Justin had expected. As he was inspecting the shampoo on display because he'd forgotten his at home, he saw condoms not too far away. If their time with the couple's therapist in this town went well, they might need them. In a rush decision, he picked up a box, dropping it into the basket.
He found Brian inspecting a few types of expensive cheese.
“Which one? This one has nuts and this one figs.”
“Figs. I'm allergic to nuts,” Justin said, rolling his eyes. “But if you want the nuts, get that one. I'm not a big fan of cheese, you know that.”
Brian got both of them.
It was such little things that gave Justin hope that his husband still cared about him to some extent.
With their shopping done, they stood in line to pay. As Justin put their purchases on the magnetic band, Brian noticed the condoms.
“What's this?” he asked loudly, shaking the box in front of Justin.
“What does it look like?”
“We don't need them.” Brian threw them into the pile of unwanted objects near the cash register.
The gesture hurt more than Justin could explain. He left Brian to pay for their groceries, dashing from the store, blinded by tears.
He couldn't wait to meet with the therapist the next day. Though, considering the way Brian was acting and how negative he was toward the whole experience, Justin doubted this would change much. By the end of the week, they'd be two thousand dollars poorer and in the same predicament.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Brian demanded, joining him outside, bags in his hands.
“I could ask the same thing of you! Is it such a crime that I wanted to buy condoms? I thought maybe since we're here… we might have some fun. We never have time at home because you don't make time for that!”
“We're not going to have this stupid fight in the middle of the street.” Brian strode ahead, toward their cottage.
Justin hurried to catch up. “No, let's simply ignore the fact that you haven't touched me properly in years.”
“Stop being a twat. I touch you all the time.”
“In your imagination maybe,” Justin spat. “When's the last time we fucked?”
Brian glanced at him, frowning.
“Exactly. If you don't remember, it's been too long. It was on your birthday, two months ago. It happened once. You thought that would be a nice thank you for making you dinner. And you didn't even care about my needs.”
“Can you lower your fucking voice?” Brian hissed, looking around.
“No, I won't! I'm sick of this charade we call marriage! If there's no change by the end of this week...”
“Yes?” Brian turned, facing Justin. “What are you going to do?” he challenged.
“You're pretty smart. Figure it out for yourself.” Justin stormed through the door to their cottage, heading to their room.
Fear gripped Brian as he realized Justin was more upset about the situation they were in than he had originally thought.
Having once claimed that he’d die if he had fewer than three rounds of sex per day, Brian figured that he must be long dead. Justin's painting schedule and his shows kept him busy and unavailable most of the time. Brian was in over his head at work, running what used to be a small advertising company based in Pittsburgh, which had now branched out to some of the biggest cities of United States, keeping him at work until later than eleven at night most days. When he got home, Justin was either asleep, or Brian was too tired to even think about sex.
The rest of the evening went by in silence.
Justin made a few sandwiches. He ate his while watching TV, and Brian ate his at his laptop in bed, checking emails.As night fell, Justin refused to move from the couch, deciding to sleep there, away from his insensitive partner. He doubted Brian, sucked into the abyss of his work, would notice he wasn't in bed.