Computer Widow

by Curt Jeffreys

Melinda Coates was an unhappily married woman. In her mid thirties, she looked twenty-something and was considered by most to be quite beautiful with rich, dark hair, smooth white skin, gray eyes with little flecks of blue, and a trim, athletic figure. She turned the heads of every male in town from the pimply faced busboy at her favorite restaurant to old Mr. Gentry who ran the gas station where she had her car serviced. It seemed the only man she knew who showed little or no interest in her was Lewis, her husband of a little over seven years.

There was a time not too long ago when they had what seemed to be the perfect marriage. She had often told her friends she and Lewis were best friends first, husband and wife second, convinced this was the secret that made their marriage different. They would always be together, she'd say; nothing would ever tear them apart. Her friends would smile and nod, remaining silent, not having the heart to shatter her illusions. She knew, of course, exactly what they were thinking, but they were wrong: She knew her Lewis and they didn't.

The first three years of their marriage were wonderful. Lewis was a considerate and loving husband, always attentive to her wants and needs, emotionally as well as physically. She counted herself lucky to have found such a sensitive and caring man. They never grew tired of being together and he spent all of his extra time with her. He made pretty good money as a software engineer and they were eventually able to save enough money to buy a small cabin in the mountains up near Estes Park . It wasn't big and it wasn't fancy, having only two rooms, but there was a fireplace and a bed and that was about all they really needed. Every Friday when he got home from work they'd load up his old pickup with enough food to last the weekend and drive up to their own little piece of the Rockies .

It was important to get away from the city, to be alone, just the two of them, and they would spend two wonderful days together hiking the trails around the cabin, making love in front of the fireplace, and just gazing into the roaring fire, talking through the night about their hopes, their dreams, their fears. They were as in tune with each other as any two people had ever been.

Over the last few months Lewis changed, not in any violent or dramatic way, but there was a definite difference in their relationship, a subtle undercurrent of neglect. He never raised a hand against her, never even raised his voice to her. No, it was worse than that -- he ignored her and for the first time in their life together, she began to doubt their love.

It all started eighteen months ago when he'd was given a promotion at work and was chosen to head a large software development project. The future of the company depended on him and the success of this project, or so he was told. He had been hand picked for the job by the company president himself, which of course was a great honor as well as a tremendous responsibility, and Lewis took very this all very seriously. His work soon began to consume him.

His promotion meant more money -- a whole lot more -- which meant they could afford the things in life they had only dreamed of when they were first married. They bought a McMansion in a well-to-do suburb and two shiny new Audis for the spacious garage. Lewis even hired a cleaning woman to come in and help her out three times a week. They attended all the important company dinners, brown-nosed all the right people at all the right times, and overall performed the duties expected of a young, upwardly mobile couple with high hopes and bright futures.

Lewis always told her work was for the office and his off hours were for her, but since the promotion it seemed there were no off-hours; if he wasn't working late at the office he was at home brooding over problems and complications, sitting in front of his computer for hours and hours at a stretch. They had not made love in weeks and his side of a typical conversation was monosyllabic at best unless, of course, the conversation involved computers, his work or, more specifically, his work with computers. She couldn't remember the last time they had gone up to the cabin. His world at home now revolved around the laptop on his study desk (That Stupid Machine!) and he all but ignored her. She once joked with her best friend Stacy that the only way she could get his attention now was to glue CD ROMs to strategic parts of her naked body.

Every now and then she was able to nag him enough to wrangle a dinner or a show out of him, but he'd make her feel so guilty about the work he was missing that she soon gave up. All he ever wanted to talk about anymore was his project, how it was going to change the world of computing and make the company a fortune. He was always so eloquent and charming at company parties. So why couldn't he turn on some of that charm for her every one in a while? He was giving the company the best of himself, leaving her with whatever was left over, which wasn't much.

So she decided it was time to mix things up a little. She spent a whole day at the Spa getting a manicure, a pedicure, a facial and a sauna. She never felt more beautiful, more desirable. Lewis would have to be dead not to notice her now. When he arrived home that evening, late as usual, she met him at the door wearing her best perfume, a smile and nothing else. A candle-lit dinner was on the table and his favorite Mozart CD was playing softly on the stereo.

"Melinda! What if the neighbors saw you like that! What if I'd brought the boss home with me? Put on some clothes. You look ridiculous!" And with that he disappeared into his his study, staying there 'till the wee hours, not once noticing her attempts to draw his attention.

She threw the dinner in the trash, scratched Mozart and ran upstairs to cry herself to sleep one more time. If only it were another woman, then she would have a better idea of what to do. But he was in love with a machine and how do you fight a stupid machine?

She began toying with the idea of taking a lover just to show Lewis she could still attract a man. If he didn't watch out she'd land herself a young hunk and it would be "Bye-Bye, Lewis. Don't forget the alimony!" She even went as far as having lunch with one of the younger men from the company she'd noticed admiring her on more than one occasion, but all he could do was talk on and on about how brilliant her husband was and what a privilege it was to work with such a genius and wasn't she thrilled by all the wonderful things Lewis was doing? She dismissed him as a brown-nosing little twit, deciding then and there she hated all men in general, giving up forever the idea of having an affair.

She began to brood. Her friends all had children or careers to occupy themselves but she and Lewis had never gotten around to starting a family and she hadn't had a job since they got married. She had nothing to live for anymore and soon the specter of suicide raised its ugly head. It was while debating the merits of sleeping pills versus a razor blade that it dawned on her that the problem wasn't with her -- had never been with her -- it was with him. He was the source of her misery. Why should she sacrifice her future just because her husband had turned into a first class jerk? She put away the pills and the razor, deep-seated anger replacing the love she had once felt so deeply.

It was time to force the issue. After all, what did she really have to lose? Her marriage couldn't possibly get any worse and she couldn't imagine being any more miserable than she already was. When he got home that evening she made no attempt to share with him any of the events of her day, never once mentioning her flirtation with the razor. She did her best to avoid him until the time was right. Predictably the creep didn't even seem to notice he was getting the cold shoulder.

As they were preparing for bed she played her hand.

"Lewis, I want us to go to the cabin this weekend," she said coolly.

He turned to look at her, knowing whatever she wanted to say was serious or she wouldn't have used his first name.

"Lewis," there it was again, "our marriage is in serious trouble. We need to do something about it right now. We're going up to the cabin this weekend, just you and me -- no computer, no phone, no thinking about work -- and we're going to talk this through. Unless you are prepared to hear from my attorney in the morning I strongly suggest that you say 'Yes'. No other answer is acceptable, no excuses will be tolerated." There. She had said it. She held her breath, waiting for his response.

"Well," he said slowly, "I don't know what you're so upset about. I haven't noticed any problems. I'm happy, aren't you? Things are going well aren't they?"

"No!" She yelled. "I am most definitely not happy. I'm miserable and I'm lonely. You're never around long enough to notice how lousy my life is and that's the whole problem. You don't pay any attention to me. We never make love. You seem to love your stupid computer more than you love me!"

"I do not," he shot back. "I married you, didn't I? I bought you this house and hired a maid for you, didn't I? I bought you a new car. I've given you everything you ever asked for and some things you didn't ask for."

"You can't buy my happiness, Lewis. Besides, what I want, you can't seem to give." She was close to tears now but refused to let him see her cry. "I want you! Just you! That's all I've ever wanted, not the career, not the house or the car or the maid!"

"But Honey! Remember broke we used to be, how hard it was living from paycheck to paycheck? I've got it made it now, Babe. I mean, we've got it made!"

"No," she spat back, "you were right the first time: You've got it made it, not me, not us. You! I don't want any of this stuff! This is what you want! All I want is the man I fell in love with. I want you totally and completely to myself. No more computer widow. Do you understand?"

Her voice was so low now that he had to lean forward to catch the last of what she was saying. She mistook this as a sign of genuine interest on his part.

He walked to the bathroom door. Pausing, he turned and said, "OK, you want me? You got me. This weekend at the cabin. You, me and nothing else. Will that make you happy?" He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

This wasn't working out the way she wanted, but at least he had promised to go and that was a start. She would make it work.

There was fresh snow on the ground as they pulled up to the cabin. The place looked so lonely, so neglected, so small. The wood pile in front of the cabin was covered with snow. His rusty ax leaned up against the pile of logs, right where he had left it so long ago.

After unloading the car he went out and managed to find some dry wood. He splintered a log for kindling, leaning the ax against the hearth. The warmth of the fire spread quickly through the tiny room. He sat on the old love-seat they'd bought at auction so long ago. They'd hauled it from the city in the back of his old pickup, plopping it in front of the fireplace. Then they'd made love before the glow of a crackling fire, a fire much like this one. He stared dreamily into the flames -- maybe he was remembering, too. She could only hope.

She left him there, slipping into the bedroom with her bag, returning in his favorite Teddy.

"Would you like me to warm you up, Sweetie?" she purred.

She glided gracefully between the fireplace and the love-seat, directly in front of him, the translucent fabric of the negligee leaving nothing to the imagination, her body fairly glowing with the heat of her passion and the burning logs behind her.

He looked up at her, a distracted look on his face. "I'm sorry, Kitten," he said. "I have to call Bob." He took out his cell. "I just figured out the answer to a problem I've been working on all week and I have just have to tell somebody!"

Melinda buried the bloodstained ax in the snow next to the body and went back inside to enjoy a little wine by the fire. She would make more permanent arrangements later. There was no hurry -- she had the whole weekend.