THE LOVERS

I

"Oh, come on, Mark, don't be upset! It was just a joke! What's the big deal?" Christine said, shocked at his reaction. In a matter of moments, they'd gone from their usual Saturday night of cuddling on the sofa alongside a forgettable movie they were supposed to laugh about later to a bitter argument. She didn't want that. She hoped he didn't, either. But his cold gaze slowly drained what little hope she was willing to put in him.

He was never easy to deal with. Especially when he got like this.

"You didn't say it like that." he didn't seem to budge.

"How was I supposed to say it?" she replied, borderline offended.

"You weren't supposed to say it at all! That's the point!" he began pacing around their green living room. "You had no right!"

"Oh my God..." her tone quickly went from apologetic to flat-out annoyed. "Not this shit again, Mark..."

"It offends people!" he stood tall. Well, as tall as he could. He was only only five feet or so.

"It's just a word! Besides, they use it all the time amongst themselves!"

"So? We don't have any right to use it! It's-"

"Offensive, yeah, yeah." she scoffed. "Except, Mark - DO YOU SEE ANY BLACK PEOPLE IN THIS FUCKING LIVING ROOM?"

"I can't believe we're having this discussion for the 50th time..." Mark sighed.

"Neither can I, but we're having it!" her defiant gaze gave his blue eyes little space to wander. "Do you think I'm racist, Mark? For using the word? Hm? Do you think I, the woman you've been fucking behind your wife's back is racist? See, I don't think that. I don't give a shit about skin color. So I don't give a shit about the words I use, Mark. It's as simple as that."

"It doesn't change the fact that you-"

"But you know, if we're talking offensive - I can easily imagine the look on Gloria's face when I tell her that you look pretty good in that red speed-o!"

II

"You know what I hate?" Gloria said some time after. They were watching TV. Mark wasn't paying that much attention. He was looking at the green walls. The color looked horribly desaturated. He thought about his friend, George, who might be willing to do it for him. He thought about changing the color, though. Green just wasn't his thing.

"Mark? Mark, are you listening?" she tapped his shoulder.

"Hmm?" he kissed her forehead. "Sorry, what was that?"

She sighed. "I was saying - do you know what I hate?"

"What?"

"Men who cheat on their wives."

"Oh." Mark simply replied.

"Yeah." she yawned. "I just don't get some people."

"Neither do I." he agreed.

III

She laughed. "Oh, you should've seen the look on his face!"

"I can imagine." George nodded, bringing the lighter to the cigarette in Gloria's mouth. "Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't jump on your case for being offensive to cheating pricks."

She giggled. "I know!" Smoke filled the living room. "Hey, but careful now. Technically, I'm a cheating prick."

He shrugged. "Hey, he started it."

"That... that he did..." George saw the light from her eyes disappear. It was only for a second, but he definitely saw it. Something turned in his stomach. Gloria sighed. "Anyway. This seems like the time of year he'll want to re-paint the house."

"You think he'll ask me?"

"I know he will." she simply said. "I think I'll keep it green. I-"

"-like green. Yes, yes. I know."

She clicked her tongue. "Yeah. You do..."

IV

"So, about Mark..." George decided to bring it up, after all. He and Christine had met up for lunch at the cafe on the corner of 35th. Not their favorite one, but it was on short notice, so neither of them minded. They were both practical.

Christine groaned. "Oh God, not about Mark again. Nobody cares, George!"

He grinned. "It's just a little gossip among co-workers."

"But it doesn't matter who he's screwing behind his wife's back, George. Not to me, anyway. I mean, yes, poor her, but... it's none of my business. It's none of your business, either." she coughed. "Goddamn."

He was taken aback. "Okay, shit. Just... just trying to find something to talk about."

"Sorry."

George's grin returned. "I know."

V

They broke it off the next month. Mark doesn't even remember what it was about. It should've been a Saturday like any other, but it wasn't. Maybe he'd gone in with the intention of breaking it off. Or maybe that was her.

It didn't matter.

It was over and done with.

He was now alone in the house. Gloria had gone off to a dinner party. He'd said he wasn't feeling too well. She had absolutely no objections. "Of course she didn't."

The faint smell of fresh paint was still in the air. George had done his job, he had to give him that much. The walls were nice. Nice and green. As they always were.

Mark smiled. The color looked really bright. It felt as if the room was breathing alongside him. He could swear it was seeping through his couch, his TV, his bookshelf, his lamp, his shelves.

At his feet was an open can of blue paint he'd bought the day before. He remembered the girl at the cash register asking him if he wanted to buy a brush, too.

He most certainly did not.

Not for this.

He picked up the open can, and swung it towards the opposite wall.