My spouse was “too busy” to fix our sink. But when our young, gorgeous neighbor needed help mending hers, he was Mr. Fix-It with a wrench, muscles rippling, and water gleaming on his skin. I caught him without screaming or fighting. But I planned a lesson worth every second.
A marriage requires trust, respect, and sometimes patience. My husband’s shirtless, kneeling repair of our neighbor’s sink was unexpected, as he had previously ignored mine. I reached a realization that things needed to alter…
Several weeks ago, I noticed our kitchen sink leaking. It started as a sluggish, unpleasant drip. The next day, it was a mess and water was gathering under the cabinet.
Mark was on the couch, glued to his phone.
“Mark,” I whispered, leaning against the doorframe. Our kitchen sink is becoming worse. Now water is everywhere.”
Half-glancing up, his thumbs kept dancing across the screen. “So call the plumber.”
His dismissal startled me, so I straightened. “But you fix sinks. Remember when we installed the new faucet last year?
Angered, he looked up this time. Claire, I have a million things to do. See me lounging here? Catching up on work emails.”
It might take 15 minutes. Plumbers charge—
“For God’s sake,” he spoke up. “I have no 15 minutes! Not for such trivia. Just call the plumber and let me concentrate.”
for illustration only
for illustration only
Heat flushed my cheeks. “Trivial? Our kitchen floods.”
He responded, “It’s a drip, not a flood,” looking back at his computer. “If you keep asking, that’s why I never want to do these things. Nagging makes things 10 times worse.”
Nagging? The term slapped. There, I waited for him to realize how painful he was.
I said “fine” finally. “Call someone tomorrow.”
A week later, I paid $180 to a plumber who fixed our sink in 12 minutes.
I met our neighbor Lily, a vivacious blonde in her late 20s with long, smooth legs, on my walk home from the grocery shop with bags.
She personified everything I lost in my late 30s: peppy, carefree, and unfairly beautiful.
“Hi Claire!” She called, jumping over to help me carry my stuff. Let me help with those!
“Thanks,” I murmured, dropping two heavier bags. “But I can manage.”
“Nonsense!” Her smile was wonderful. Neighbors help. Regarding that… Your spouse rocks! Not all men would drop everything to help a neighbor in need.”
I nearly slipped on a sidewalk crack. “My husband… MARK?”
She nodded excitedly. “Mmmm-hmmmm! He’s at my house! Fully backed-up kitchen sink. He opened your door when I knocked. He acted without hesitation. grabbed his toolbox and came over!”
It felt like the luggage gained 20 pounds. Is that so?
“Absolutely! He’s adorable. Water splashed on his shirt, so he took it off.” She laughed. “I told him not to worry, but he insisted he works better that way.”
I murmured, “I’m sure he does,” my chest burning slowly.
“May I stop by?” I requested. Since my sink broke last week, I’ve been attempting to figure out how it works. Mark prefers to keep his tricks a secret.
Of course not! See your handyman at work!”
We entered Lily’s flat softly. She winked at me and pointed to the kitchen.
“He’s been at it for almost half an hour,” she murmured. “Said it was harder than he thought and would take time.”
I find it odd that he spent 30 minutes on her “tricky” sink but not on our “trivial” one.
He was in the kitchen doorway when I entered. Mark, my 15-year-old spouse, kneeling at Lily’s sink cabinet.
A shirtless 45-year-old showed off his incredible back muscles. Working intently, he reached deep under the pipes.
“How’s it going, Mark?” Lily asks.
“Heyo! Just fighting pipes! You must tighten this connection,” he said, unaware of me. Otherwise, you’ll get leaks like my wife. Though yours is more complicated.”
I thought, “Of course it is!”
“Will it cost much to fix?” Leaning on her counter, Lily asked. In her posture, every curve was highlighted. and she had lots.
Mr. Mark laughed. “Not with my free work! Plumbers would charge at least $200 for this.”
Two hundred? Twenty more than I paid that morning.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Lily exclaimed. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Mark said, “Just being neighborly,” with a smile.
I heard enough. I carefully grabbed my items and left without anybody noticing.
Although the lawn walk to our house was short, I had time to contemplate. This went beyond a sink. Respect and taking for granted were at stake.
Two could play that game.
Mark returned home about six with damp hair after showering.
“Where were you today?” I inquired casually while chopping dinner vegetables.
He paused too long. Just errands. Visited hardware store.”
Found what you needed?
“Yeah,” he answered, selecting a drink from the fridge. ”Just some odds and ends.”
I agreed, putting the veggies in the pan. “By the way, the plumber fixed the sink this morning.”
“Good,” he murmured, relieved I wasn’t upset. How much did he charge?
“$180,” I said. “He said a simple fix.”
Mark flinched. That’s highway robbery.”
Smirked. “As they say, if you want something done right…
Despite appearing uncomfortable, he left smiling.
I said nothing that night. No blame. Avoid passive-aggression. I had BIGGER plans. That weekend, I hosted a neighborhood cookout. Mark had no idea what was coming.
Saturday brought excellent cookout weather. Potlucks and six-packs arrived from neighbors in our backyard. Mark was the generous host again, grilling.
I waited for Lily to come in a flattering sundress. Mark looked twice when he saw her, then swiftly averted his eyes when he saw me.
Perfect.
Before moving, I waited for a large crowd around the drinks table. I happily waved Lily over.
“Lily! I called everyone to meet. “Hi everyone, Lily is our new neighbor.”
She smiled at the attention. My arm over her shoulders was kind.
I remarked, “Lily, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” with enough volume to draw attention. “How did Mark fix your sink so fast? I’ve waited years for that service!”
We heard less conversations. I felt Mark freeze by the grill.
Lily laughed, unaware of the trap. “I knocked and asked! He was quite kind. He came right over!”
“That’s intriguing!” I pondered, staring at Mark. “When our sink leaked last week, he said he was too busy, so I called a plumber. We spent nearly $200!”
“Oh, no!” Lily placed her hand to her mouth.
The neighbors’ heads swiveled between us like tennis fans. A mumbled “Uh-oh” was audible.
“Maybe he wasn’t busy that day?” Lily reasoned.
“Must be,” I said. “I suppose taking off his shirt helped him work better, too? Our plumber didn’t try that.”
In the throng, anxious laughs spread. Mark left the grill and walked over, his expression stormy.
“Claire,” he snarled. Can we talk inside? Now?”
My smile was wide. “Why? I’m talking about house repairs casually.”
Mark almost dragged me to the house with his elbow. He called over his shoulder, “Excuse us for a minute.”
Inside, he went for me. “What the hell are you doing?”
I crossed arms. Making a point.”
Making a point? You’re embarrassing us in front of our neighbors!”
“No,” I said calmly. “You embarrassed yourself by choosing her sink over ours. You embarrassed yourself by lying about your location.”
His face reddened. “You’re exaggerating. Just being neighborly!”
“Neighborly? Are we calling it that? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you didn’t want to save your wife but wanted to save the lovely blonde.”
He laughed, “That’s ridiculous,” but didn’t look at me.
“Mark, if Mr. Jensen next door knocked for help with his sink, would you have run over shirtless?”
That stumped him.
I snapped, “That’s what I thought.” Get back to the party. I want to ensure you understand the feeling of being disregarded… “And to be your second choice in marriage.”
I stormed out, but not all was lost. Grand finale was beginning.
I was incredibly unhelpful in all the ways Mark had always taken for granted during the following few days.
His alarm didn’t go off Monday morning.
He rushed to get ready for work, asking, “What happened to my alarm?”
I took my coffee slowly. I realized the time was ticking rapidly, but I thought you were too occupied. Call a timekeeper.”
No clean underwear was in his drawer Tuesday.
Claire, where are my clothes?
I looked up from my book. “Probably in the hamper. The washing machine appears complex… maybe ask Lily how to use it?”
He arrived home ravenous on Thursday finding an empty kitchen.
“There’s no dinner?” he questioned, glancing at the empty fridge.
“I had a really busy day,” I shrugged. I didn’t have 15 minutes for something so minor. However, the takeout down the block is great.”
Finally, he sat across from me at the dining table on Friday night.
“Okay,” he conceded. “I understand.”
I waited with my newspaper folded.
I was a jerk. Despite not feeling like fixing our sink, I leaped at the chance to help Lily since… He paused.
Because she made you feel important? Needed? Appreciated?”
He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes. All of that. I’m sorry. I had no idea how that would look or feel.”
I regarded him. You know what hurt most? Instead of helping her, you lied. That you made me feel like I was asking too much by expecting my spouse to help.”
He answered, “I know,” reaching for my hand across the table. “I erred. Big time.”
I let him take my hand without softening. “The bathroom sink drips. Just started this morning.”
Fear flashed across his face. “I’ll fix. Right now.”
You sure? You’re not busy? I can always call that plumber again…”
He stood up and yelled, “No, no!” “I’m on it.”
He quickly mended the bathroom sink. Observing his job, I recognized that sometimes the issue is not the sink, but rather ensuring your partner feels valued.
Mark now fixes anything around the house without complaint. And Lily? Let’s imagine she finds a plumber who wears his shirt and charges her full fee.
Mark was under our dishwasher last week when it started making an odd noise before I could finish my statement.
“You know,” I said, handing him a wrench, “I’ve noticed a direct correlation between sink repairs and marital happiness.”
He chuckled, lovingly looking up at me. Lesson learned. Painfully.”
I kissed his head and murmured, “Good.” “So next time, I won’t embarrass you at a barbecue. Bring your mother over to watch me.”
