It has been a while. I would say about five months since we had sex. I mean we lived in the same house and slept in the same bed, but we didn’t touch each other. But it wasn’t like a few years ago when Tina was having doubts about her sexuality and she didn’t even want me, I saw the desire in her eyes. It’s just that both of us were so tired from work we couldn’t do it.

It had caused some serious tension between the two of us and now we were sitting at the dinner table eating our food angrily. I was glad Kit had picked up Angie for the night that way she wouldn’t have to see the nasty glares we were giving each other.

I finished my food and went over to the sink setting the plate inside then washing it. Tina walked into the kitchen, putting her plate in the sink and waiting for me to move so she could wash it.

We didn’t say a word to each other. I simply grabbed the plate and washed it. It was a habit we had developed in the last two years of our marriage. Afterwards I turned off the water and brushed past her purposely bumping her shoulder.

She scoffed at my action and murmured, “fuck you.”

I turned around to face her, anger burning in my eyes, “no fuck you, Tina! You can’t even take a fucking day off for me?”

“I took the day off so I could sleep in not go to some art exhibit in Orange County!” Tina spat back.

“I thought you would like it,” I cried, “guess I was wrong to think you actually gave a shit about my life.”

“Don’t try that guilt tripping shit on me!” Tina shouted, “yeah, like you’re so fucking interested in my work.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re so passionate about the fucking movie industry,” I retorted sarcastically.

“It’s my life and I love it,” Tina defended, “just like you love art.”

“Art is actually something worthy to be passionate about!”

“So is music but you don’t see me getting all crazy about Mozart,” Tina said.

“Oh fuck you, Tina!” I yelled, “thanks for showing me your true fucking colors!”