My spouse was “too busy” to repair our sink. But when our young, gorgeous neighbor needed assistance mending hers, he was Mr. Fix-It with a wrench, biceps rippling, and water gleaming on his skin. I captured him without screaming or fighting. But I planned a lesson worth every second.
A marriage requires trust, respect, and sometimes patience. Nothing prepared me for my husband’s naked, kneeling, and mysteriously repairing our neighbor’s sink, despite mine being “not his problem.” That was when I understood things had to change…
Several weeks ago, I noticed our kitchen sink leaking. It started as a sluggish, unpleasant leak. The following day, everything was a mess and water was gathering beneath the cabinet.
Mark was on the sofa, glued to his phone.
“Mark,” I replied, leaning against the doorframe. Our kitchen sink is becoming worse. Now there’s water everywhere.”
Half-glancing up, his thumbs kept dancing over the screen. “So call the plumber.”
His dismissal startled me, so I straightened. “But you repair sinks. You did it last year when we installed the new faucet?”
Angered, he glanced up this time. I have a million things to do, Claire. See me lounging here? Catching up on business emails.”
It could take 15 minutes. Plumbers charge—”
“For God’s sake,” he said. No time for 15 minutes! Not for such trivia. Call the plumber and let me concentrate.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. “Trivial? Our kitchen floods.”
“It’s a drip, not a flood,” he observed, returning to his screen. 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 understand how painful he was.
I said “fine,” eventually. “I’ll call someone tomorrow.”
A week later, I paid $180 to a plumber who repaired our sink in 12 minutes.
I met our neighbor Lily, a cheerful blonde in her late 20s with beautiful, silky legs, on my walk home from the grocery shop with bags.
She personified everything I lost in my late 30s: peppy, carefree, and unjustly beautiful.
“Hey, Claire!” she said, jumping to assist me carry my baggage. “Let me give you a hand with those!”
“Thanks,” I handed over two larger bags. “But I can manage.”
“Nonsense!” Her grin was wonderful. Neighbors assist. Your hubby is great! Not all men would drop everything to aid a neighbor in need.”
I almost 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. Without hesitation, he grabbed his tools and came over!”
It seemed like the luggage gained 20 pounds. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely! He’s adorable. Water sprayed on his shirt, so he pulled it off.” She laughed. “I told him not to worry about it, but he insisted he works better that way.”
I murmured, “I’m sure he does,” my chest burning slowly.
“Would you mind if I stopped by?” I requested. I’ve been trying to figure out how sinks operate since mine broke last week. Mark prefers to keep his tricks a secret.
“No way! See your handyman at work!”
We entered Lily’s flat silently. She grinned at me and pointed to the kitchen.
“He’s been at it almost 30 minutes,” she muttered. “Said it was trickier than he thought and would take a while.”
How ironic that he spent 30 minutes on her “tricky” sink but not on our “trivial” one.
He was at the kitchen doorway when I entered. My 15-year-old hubby Mark kneeling at Lily’s sink cabinet.
A shirtless 45-year-old showed off his incredible back muscles. Working intently, he reached down beneath the pipes.
“Hey, Mark, how’s it going?” Lily asks.
“Heyo! Just fighting pipes! You must secure this link “he added, ignorant of me. Otherwise, you’ll have leaks like my wife. Though yours is trickier.”
I thought, “Of course it is!”
“Is it going to be expensive to fix?” Leaning on the counter, Lily inquired. She had many curves, and her posture highlighted them.
Mr. Mark laughed. “Not with my free work! This would cost at least $200 if you contacted a plumber.”
Two hundred? Twenty more than I paid that morning.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Lily said. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
“Just being neighborly,” Mark said, smiling.
I heard enough. I carefully grabbed my items and left without anybody noticing.
Although the grass walk to our home was short, I had time to contemplate. This went beyond a sink. Respect and taking for granted were at stake.
Two could play the game.
Mark returned home about six with wet hair after showering.
“Where were you today?” I inquired casually while chopping dinner veggies.
He paused too long. Just errands. I visited the hardware shop.”
“Found what you needed?”
“Yeah,” he answered, taking a fridge beer. “Just some odds and ends.”
I agreed, putting the veggies in the pan. “By the way, the plumber came this morning and fixed the sink.”
“Good,” he murmured, happy I wasn’t angry. “How much did he charge?”
“$180,” I said. “He said it was a simple fix.”
Mark flinched. “That’s highway robbery.”
Smirked. “Well, you know what they say: If you want something done right…”
Despite seeming uncomfortable, he left smiling.
I didn’t speak that night. No blame. Avoid passive-aggression. I had BIGGER plans. That weekend, I hosted a neighborhood cookout. Mark had no clue 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 throng around the drinks table. I happily waved Lily over.
“Lily! Meet everyone, I called. “Hey everyone, this is our new neighbor, Lily.”
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 attract attention. How did you get Mark to repair your sink so fast? I’ve waited years for that service!”
We heard less discussions. I felt Mark freeze near the grill.
Lily laughed, unaware of the trap. Just knocked and asked! He was really kind and came straight over!”
“Isn’t that interesting?!” I pondered, staring at Mark. “When our sink leaked last week, he said he was too busy and I had to contact a plumber. Cost about $200!”
“Oh, no!” Lily reached for her lips.
The neighbors’ heads swiveled between us like tennis fans. A murmured “Uh-oh” was audible.
“Well, maybe he wasn’t busy that day?” Lily reasoned.
“Must be,” I said. “I suppose taking off his shirt helped him work better, too? Not a method our plumber tried.”
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 grin was wide. “Why? I’m talking about house repairs.”
Mark almost pulled me to the house with his elbow. He yelled over his shoulder, “Excuse us for a minute.”
Inside, he went for me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I crossed arms. “Making a point.”
Making a point? You shame us in front of our neighbors!”
“No,” I said quietly. “You humiliated yourselves by choosing her sink over ours. You humiliated yourself by lying about your whereabouts.”
His face reddened. “You’re exaggerating. Just being neighborly!”
“Neighborly? Are we calling it that? From where I’m looking, it appears 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.
“Tell me, Mark, if Mr. Jensen next door had knocked asking for help with his sink, would you have rushed over shirtless?”
That stumped him.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. Get back to the party. I wanted you to know how it feels to be ignored and a second option in your marriage.”
I stormed out, but I did more. Grand finale was beginning.
I was incredibly useless in all the ways Mark had always taken for granted during the following several days.
Monday morning’s alarm didn’t go off.
Running to get ready for work, he said, “What happened to my alarm?”
I took my coffee slowly. “I saw the clock was ticking quickly, but I thought you were too busy. Call a timekeeper.”
No clean underwear was in his drawer Tuesday.
“Claire, where are all my clothes?”
I glanced up from my book. “Probably in the hamper. Ask Lily whether she can operate the difficult washing machine.”
He arrived home ravenous on Thursday finding an empty kitchen.
“There’s no dinner?” he inquired glancing at the empty fridge.
“I had a really busy day,” I shrugged. Wouldn’t waste 15 minutes on something so little. A excellent takeaway place is down the block.”
Finally, he sat across from me at the dining table on Friday night.
He responded, “Okay,” dejected. “I get it.”
I waited with my newspaper folded.
Was an ass. I didn’t feel like fixing our sink, but I was happy to assist Lily.” He paused.
“She made you feel important? Needed? Appreciated?”
He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes. All of it. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how it would look or feel.”
I regarded him. You know what hurt most? Instead of helping her, you lied. You made me feel like I was asking too much by expecting my spouse to assist.”
“I know,” he murmured, taking my hand across the table. I erred. Big time.”
I let him grasp my hand without softening. “The bathroom sink drips. Just began this morning.”
Fear flashed over his face. I’ll repair it. Right now.”
You sure? You’re not busy? I can contact that plumber again…”
He sprang up and yelled, “No, no!” “I’m on it.”
He quickly mended the bathroom sink. As I watched him work, I understood that often the issue isn’t the sink, but making sure your spouse realizes their worth.
Mark now repairs anything around the home without complaint. And Lily? Let’s imagine she finds a plumber who wears his shirt and charges her full fee.
Mark was beneath our dishwasher last week when it began making an odd noise before I could complete my statement.
“You know,” I gave him a wrench, “I’ve noticed a direct correlation between sink repairs and marital happiness.”
He chuckled, lovingly gazing up at me. Lesson learnt. Painfully.”
“Good,” I kissed his head. “Next time, I won’t disgrace you at a cookout. Bring your mother over to see me.”
Marriages are founded on trust, respect, and the awareness that if you repair the neighbor’s sink before your wife’s, your comfortable life’s pipes will bust.
Trust me, no one can manage that deluge.