Did I Touch Her?

My wife treats children professionally. I can’t be more specific than that because I don’t want some virtual Sherlock Holmes to pick up a trail, lol!

She had a particularly difficult day at work, came home exhausted, overwhelmed, and half depressed. She’s one of the more senior people at her work and her boss feels comfortable loading up her treatment schedule with the most difficult children. Sometimes her schedule is so jammed-pack, that she doesn’t have time to eat lunch at work and only bites into her sandwich when she gets home late afternoon.

I tried my best to listen and empathize with her while she let loose about her dissatisfaction with her job, boss, etc., but I didn’t feel that she really calmed down all that much from our talk. She was a little impatient with our younger children around their dinner and bed times. After my wife put our younger children to sleep, she went and climbed into bed.

After a little while, I decided to stop everything I was doing and go spend some time with her. When I got to our room, I saw that she was on her back, under the covers, reading in bed. I climbed into the bed and snuggled up next to her. She stopped reading and looked at me. I stared at her book, pretending I was interested in seeing what she was reading. She eventually turned back to read with me lying next to her. A few silent minutes went by.

I put my leg on top of her legs, my arm across her stomach and rested my head on her shoulder. She stopped reading again and looked at me, suspiciously. I looked at her, asked ‘what?’, and looked away. She went back to reading.

I decided to tickle her. She screams, her book falls out of her hands, and she yells at me to stop, explaining for the gazillionth time how much she hates being tickled. Despite her protestations, I noticed a slight smile, the first one today! She lifted up her book and started reading. I held her hand and she held mine. A few silent minutes went by.

Our older daughter came into our room to tell us about her test earlier in the day. I let go of my wife’s hand, we talked to our daughter for a few minutes, and then I got up and went back downstairs to my computer.

About ten minutes later, my wife comes downstairs and stands next to me with her arms crossed. I stop typing, grab her leg, and look up at her. She takes a deep sigh and tells me how pressured she is at work. I massage her leg a little and tell her she needs to get a good night sleep. She asks me when I’m coming to bed. I look up at her and see a mischievous smile.