The Big "O": A Romantic Comedy by H. Raven Rose

influencing, however hard it was to make an effort and try to impact her life.
    Max ambled in. He didn’t sneak up on her at the sink, the way he did so often when she was pregnant, or like when they were single, doing stuff in the kitchen. A part of her felt like shrinking. Instead, using all of her will power, she grabbed Max, hugged him tight, and gave him a kiss.
    He laughed, surprised, and hugged her back even tighter. A part of her heart melted. His happy response to her initiative surprised her and made her feel that she shouldn't make him do all of the relationship work. She'd have to try and be more spontaneous.
    “Thank you for putting the little guy down,” she said.
    “I always do,” Max said with surprise. She grinned.
    “But I don’t always thank you,” she said, “…and I’m really grateful. It gives me a minute to think and tidy up.” He smiled. Max washed dishes. Emily dried.
    He always did put the little guy down, for the most part, and he helped her in the kitchen, too. She was feeling more positive all of a sudden and smiled. I should take the initiative in the bedroom, so what if I’m not as fit, she thought.
    Her mind raced, trying to think of new things that she could try in order to handle all of their problems; the actions that she could personally take, the things that she had control over. She felt warm inside. She felt optimistic, hopeful, and a bit more like her old self.
    She smiled. In one moment she went from feeling exhausted to refreshed. She thought about the evening, the friendliness and affection of their closest friends, the chatting, laughter, and the warmth of spending time with people who really knew and liked her.
    “That was fun,” Emily said and to her surprise Max, lost in thoughts of his own, didn’t reply. She felt a burst of the rage that had been her recent emotional companion.
    “That was fun,” she repeated and she was ashamed to note that she was back on the edge and her voice had more than a little tinge of spite in it.
    When did a bad mood, perpetually irritable and cranky, become my default emotional state? she wondered. She was getting downright sick of feeling malicious and spiteful and she knew that Max must feel that she was generally obnoxious and overbearing.
    “Uh-huh,” Max said finally. It was as if he was under water and couldn’t even hear her. It highly irritated Emily to realize that it was like she wasn't even there.
    “We should do it more often,” Emily added and she felt ill at the strident tone obvious in her voice. Emily felt all of her energy and happiness slipping away from her.
    “Uh-huh,” he repeated. Max was obviously distracted; Emily took it personally.
    “Listen,” Max said casually, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe, we need to stop stimulating the little guy, until we better understand what’s going on with his intellect.”
    Emily was shocked. She stared at her husband. Was he serious?
    Their kid’s intellect was the one thing that was going right. The house needed work. Their second book was taking far to long too write. Some days the book outline didn't even make sense or seem all that great to her. She was fat and tired. They had next to no sex life. Money was becoming a serious issue. Their brilliant baby was a bright spot in an otherwise dreary I-don't-see-it-getting-better-anytime-soon life.
    He avoided her gaze. He was serious. It made her feel a little sick to know that Max’s self-esteem was so low that he would hamstring their kid.
    “Alright?” Max asked and Emily blinked. She struggled to think of a response that wouldn't set her husband off. She suddenly wanted to lie down.
    “I hear you,” Emily said carefully.
    Her face felt unusually warm and she was certain that she had flushed crimson.
    Max didn't seem to notice her expression and seemed to accept her response as her agreement. He turned and left the room. Emily was horrified by their lack of communication. No way, she thought to herself, quite