John sat with her furniture and his arms folded. The house, like his beer was finished. He was on a sofa that was too stiff to be comfortable, not allowed to place his feet up on the table and surrounded by walls in several colors he was told to remember were “coordinates”. She was no longer home to order a pepperoni pie like they used to share. When they ate together it tended to be odd food with long names. It was not delivered by the guy down on the corner. John wanted to know what was so wrong with the guy on the corner, a couple of beers between them and some old sitcoms on a Friday night? That had worked quite nicely for a long time. He liked his arm around her and the way she would tuck herself beside him eating the pepperoni first and the pizza second. It was what a Friday should be. He was trying to forget how they would leave the bed covers sloppy because they spent a Saturday morning enjoying each other and then buttered toast in bed. Their bed now had eleven pillows, nine of which didn’t need to be there but had silk covers, tassels and had to be placed neatly on the chair. Except it wasn’t a chair, it was a chaise lounge. He was reprimanded like a toddler who said psaghetti if he called it as he saw it. An afternoon nap together on a quiet Sunday like they had when they first got together was as unthinkable a sin as the paneling in the basement which she helped him put up and men with tweezed eyebrows and spray on tans tore down. There were events she had to attend now. Ones to which he was not invited as her guest. She hardly wore jeans, even when she went to get her nails done. She did that regularly now too. The bathroom cabinet had exploded into The Body Shop versus Clinque. Or at least they seemed to be the main two occupants. She wouldn’t buy instant coffee anymore. He had to boil the water and use some Danish press thing that always made little black messes in his cup. She stocked hand ground flavors like mocha raspberry for nine dollars a pound. He wanted the Maxwell House back. He was stuck with a walk to Dunkin Donuts for a real cup. But that was no longer the pleasant line of stools and basic coffee and a jelly. Now even they had the flavored coffees. He watched women with striped hair colors and plastic claw nails come in and walk out with 16oz of vanilla something or other. They looked like tigers pacing with their cigarettes outside. After her father passed away Linda was awarded a large promotion by her office and a much larger amount of cash from his estate. Now, she could fix the house and herself as much as she pleased. This was her dream. She wanted the showplace home and then too much to do to ever get the cushions dented. She waited a long time for it. She had silently tolerated Kmart clothes, 10 dollar pies and canned domestic beer long enough. Finally she could step up to the next level with new fieldstone on the house and real marble in the kitchen. There would be a Vulcan stove and a hot tub. She threw all her clothes out and spent eight thousand dollars at big name outlet stores. It was several weekends and lots of bags. She stopped showing him when his face took on the level of confusion someone wears when they do not understand the language being spoken. He would never understand why she needed MaxMara. John only remembered their first two cars combined did not cost as much as the all-up bill from these store excursions. But Linda liked to have a weekly dry cleaning bill and cite her suits by the designer to the staff. As to why there needed to be oak cabinets and a built in ironing board in the laundry room given that his clothes and her underwear were the only visitors, John decided not to ask. This was her money. Unfortunately, despite her new financial prowess, Linda found her husband could not be updated. He would sit there in his faded sweatpants with ragged edges like a lawn ornament eyesore. He insisted on things like going to the old barber shop because a cut there was still only nine dollars. He would buy the same kind of shoes and wear them all the time. He didn’t like to wear ties or try new restaurants. He used terribly common words like macaroni with gravy and never said penne marinara like the rest of civilized world. Their satin sheets stayed cold while they stared at opposite walls in the dark at night wondering what to do now that the other person didn’t fit.