David walked into the kitchen and saw Agnes standing at the counter, slowly chopping onions.
He sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Locking his fingers around her growing belly, he buried his face in her neck.
She stopped chopping and set the knife down carefully. He traveled the nape of her neck, marking his path with soft kisses. He felt her body move into his, her neck stretched up as if to give his path more ground to follow.
He met her hairline, her ear, her cheek, and she turned toward him. Hungrily, he kissed her lips, a hint of the wine she drank while cooking transferring from hers to his. He pulled her closer, feeling her belly bump against him. They ignored the new, awkward distance and she ran her fingers through his hair as they continued to kiss. He reached up, cupping her face in his tender hands.
And then, she pulled away. She pushed him gently away from her.
“I can’t.” She turned back towards the counter and resumed chopping onion.
David couldn’t ignore the intense desire he felt for his wife. He put his hands back around her, just to hold her and be close. But she pushed him away again.
“Agnes. Tell me.”
“I’m uncomfortable. I just don’t feel like it, David. I weigh a million pounds. I’m exhausted. I don’t feel attractive or desirable. Plus, I felt her kick. And that’s just too much weird for me. Just let me finish making dinner. Leave me alone.”
David turned and walked away.
Agnes kept chopping onions, unsure if the tears were even coming from the onion fragrance in the air.
This continues the story of Agnes and Matilda. It remains untitled. This would come before all of the other sections: Agnes, Where is Mama?, David’s Accident, The Postcard, At the Airport, The Woman in the Photograph and Back at Henry’s House. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Especially since I’m not going back to previous sections and I’m sure there will be continuity errors. What can I say? It’s a first draft.
This portion was written off this week’s prompt from The Red Dress Club. As soon as I read the prompt, I knew I’d have trouble with it. I’ve never been able to write about sex. But I gave it a shot. I’m not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll just wait to hear what you think.
Constructive criticism is not only welcome, but requested. Thank you for reading.