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The morning paper is open on the kitchen island and Tyland is reading it as he eats his muesli. Like he does every day. Each spoonful crunches between his teeth as he chews. And chews. And chews. I feel as if there is a steel wire inside me and with every crunch it is pulled tauter and tauter.
A more considerate person would have something less noisy for breakfast. Like a cup of coffee and a soft-boiled egg. As I do. But no, he has to eat muesli. Even though he chews with his mouth closed, the noise grates against my ears, like nails against a chalkboard. God, is that bowl bottomless?
Every morning for twenty-two years. What is that, 8 000 days or so, of this endless masticating. It is inhumane!
I put my coffee cup down on the marble top with a clunk.
“Honestly,” I say.
Tyland looks up. In the pale sunlight falling through the windows, his eyes are startlingly blue.
“I’ve given you two sons,” I say, “and two daughters.”
“Um, yes. I am aware..?”
“Given that, one would think that the least you could do is to not eat muesli. Every. Single. Morning.”
He looks as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“I fail to see the connection,” he says, proving that he is, in fact, a complete idiot.
I can’t take another second of this. Abandoning the last dregs of coffee at the bottom of my cup, I get down from my seat and leave the room.
I don’t see him for the rest of the day, the small council keeping him busy. I stay busy too. I read for a bit. I recently got hold of an advance copy of a new book detailing the history of Dorne. I make a few phone calls and give instructions to the housekeeper and the maid. I write letters to the kids. None of them live at home anymore. Tyrek and Gerion are both studying at the Citadel, and Ella and Genna are at Oldtown’s Educational Institute for Girls. They’re doing really well. Even Ella, despite the fact that she didn’t want to go at first. I made her, and talked Tyland into backing me up. In the afternoon I spend some time with my latest jigsaw puzzle. It’s hidden away in a room upstairs and if, for some reason, anyone were to ask if I like jigsaw puzzles, like some sort of senior citizen, I would deny it.
Since Tyland is having dinner with his brother today, I dine alone. I dismiss the maid as soon as she’s placed the plate in front of me. Then I kick off my shoes and put my feet up on one of the other chairs.
I’m already in bed when Tyland comes home. I hear his steps on the stairs. There’s a strange clunking noise from the pipes a while later, which reminds me I need to call a plumber. Pipes aren’t supposed to sound like that. I turn my attention back to my book. Not the one about Dorne. To clear my head before going to sleep, I choose lighter reading. Something that doesn’t require much focus. Thrillers. Sometimes romances. Another thing I would never admit to.
The one I’m reading right now is quite spicy. So much so, in fact, that heat begin to grow between my legs. I consider masturbating. It would be quick, efficient. And not what I want. Instead I get up.
The hallway outside is dark, but I’m not worried about falling down the stairs and breaking my neck. There’s a strip of light at the bottom of Tyland’s door at the other end of the corridor and I make my way over there and slip inside the room.
He’s in bed, wearing his reading glasses and holding a book. He knows why I’m here. There’s really not a whole lot of other reasons for me to visit his room. Sometimes he visits mine. He puts his book and his glasses away and lifts the cover, an invitation for me to get in.
“Were you reading one of your romance books?” he says as I get into bed.
“Shut up.”
He smiles. He’s already naked and he slides his hands under my nightgown, pushing it up until I raise my arms and help him take it off me.
He makes me come against his fingers first and then I ride him. Until he flips us over and, well, rails me. Which I secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, like. I have another orgasm and a short while later he comes too. I feel boneless. Spent. Tyland is nothing like the heroes in my romance books, but he’s damn good in bed.
He pulls me close and I snuggle up against him, my head resting against his chest. His hand traces a lazy pattern up and down my arm. This is another thing I secretly like.
I think about our first few years of marriage. Sex was not like this back then. Nor did I let him cuddle me. I didn’t want to marry him, but my parents arranged the match and my wishes didn’t matter. If anyone had asked me what I wanted, I would have said I preferred his brother, because he is a first-born son. Now, the idea of being married to Jason is off-putting. They may be identical twins, but I don’t understand how other people can’t tell them apart.
I can hear Tyland’s breaths slow and grow heavy, he’s seconds away from snoring, and I poke him.
“Are you asleep?” I say.
“What? No.”
We get up and get cleaned up in the en suite bathroom. There’s toothpaste in the sink. I pee.
“Are you staying here tonight?” Tyland asks when we’re both done and I’m on my way back to the bed.
I nod. In truth I sleep better alone, in my own bed. He snores a great deal. But sometimes it’s just nice to not be alone. My parents never slept in the same bed, even before my father’s illness, and from a few things my mother has said in the past, while discreetly trying to inquire about how I found married life, I don’t think they were ever particularly compatible, physically speaking.
I get in under the cover and move the pillow about until I’m comfortable. The first time, or maybe the second time, Tyland and I ever slept in the same bed, long ago now, I woke up to find him staring at me. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. My ruined eye doesn’t close. He had the good sense not to say anything about it, but I didn’t want to sleep in the same bed again for a long while after that.
“Jason and Johanna are going to Essos,” he says.
“Why?”
“On holiday.” He looks over at me. “Maybe we should go too?”
“Not with them.”
“No.” He’s quiet for a beat and looks as if he’s pondering things. “It doesn’t have to be Essos. We could go someplace else. The Summer Islands, perhaps. Or the North.”
I smile a little.
“Perhaps Dorne?” I say, thinking it would be fun to see the places I’m reading about.
“That’s another good option. Should I look into it then? I can pick up some brochures.”
“Yeah,” I say.
He reaches for the lamp on the bedside table and the room goes dark.
“Goodnight,” he says.
“Goodnight.”
I wonder if he knows I love him. Surely he must know, given how I put up with his muesli. Which he will eat again tomorrow.