He hung up and lit another cigarette, puffing furiously. She always made him feel like an asshole, and he wasn’t, he wasn’t a Bad Guy: he didn’t smack her around, he didn’t sleep with other women, he didn’t drink himself into a stupor every weekend like some of his buddies did. He just wanted some freedom; was that asking so much after marrying so young?
Cindy was a cool chick. She didn’t mind if he took off some weekends to go biking with the guys from the shop. He’d wanted a motorcycle since he was fourteen and goddammit he was going to enjoy it, whether Sandra approved or not.