"Well, I'm not making it. What have you been doing all day?" He stood halfway out of the doorway, his work clothes still on, and scowled at her. Yet again! How could you stay home all day until eight and wait for my return to be hungry? As the argument continued, his voice gradually rose from its usual muted tones to a volume that anyone in the hallway could hear. Finally, he dropped into his chair and started untying his bootlaces.
"Do what you want."
"What?" his wife yelled back.
"Do what you want! Go wherever you want, eat whatever you want. You sure as shit not getting it from me. This is ridiculous!" He kept looking up as he shouted, and looked back down to see the laces becoming an unrecognizable lump. This only made him more irritable. "Damn it!" he swore.
"Well if you don't want me here, I'll go see if there's someone who will!" She grabbed her coat off the chair closest the door in a sweeping motion, knocking the ironing board and a flurry of bills to the floor. In a shower of black lettering, she was out the door.
He sat there in silence as the last of the papers hit the floor. He knew he was irritable due to the weather being so horrible outside, but this was a long time in coming. Why was she like that? He refused to use the word lazy, because she went to work like everyone else. It just seemed that as soon as she got home and interacted with him, her compulsions went to zero. Grunting with effort, he slung the boot off into a cat bed and sat back for a second. This was no new occurence. He knew she had probably fled in tears to be coddled by her parents, living five minutes away. He had gotten pretty mad, he mused as he went into the kitchen. That might make her stay over there for the night. Hopefully anyway. He selected a glass from the shelf, waggling his hand in the unconscious habit he had during decision making, then picked up the tequila bottle. Sauza Blanco should correct this night, he thought. He put a finger of tequila in the glass, then muttered, "What the hell," and left the glass there, taking the bottle into the living room.
As he drank, he mulled over the situation. He could always leave....and then what? He thought. Doing the knight in shining armor to move out here with her family had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that his own family was mad at him, pulling out of here would leave him in completely alien territory. He rolled the bottle between his palms as he grimaced. Trapped - at least for now. He would open another savings account, maybe at Bank of America. They had treated him well before...
This was his last thought before passing out.
The phone call rattled its way through his head, and kept up the chorus for Red Hot Chili Peppers' Otherside as he struggled his way back to coherence. His mouth tasted horrible, and there was an empty bottle of tequila poking into his grizzled cheek. The fuck was going on?
"Hello?"
"It's Anne. Are you home?"
Anne. The one woman who somehow, always knew when to call. Though he had lots of female friends (something that rarely escaped the wary, possessive eye of his wife), she was the one who could instantly put a smile on his face. He wanted to call her his best female friend, but somehow that always seemed a poor phrasing. She was one of those women about whom he would always think, "In another life...in another time..."and leave the thought grudgingly unfinished. Many times he heard her talking about her boyfriends and would come home needing a drink. He tried to parse his thoughts about her logically, yet she held some power on him that he could not explain.
"Yeah," he groaned, struggling to a sitting position. The next words snapped him into wakefulness, however.
"I'm being followed. I need help. Like right now."
He got up, instantly regretting it as angry thunderbolts crashed inside his head. He was up, though, and with something to focus on, the alcohol would burn itself out of his system quickly. It seemed like he would need it.
"Where are you now?"
"I'm on Green, coming up to Lake now. He's been on me for a good half hour now. No police stations really close to here and my gas is pretty low." He could hear her voice nudging against the oncoming panic and slowly being forced back. She was normally pretty stable and in control, which meant that this guy really worried her. Something had to happen, and for right now, he was the guy to do it.
"Well, you could always come here. Hit a left on Lake and gun it up that stretch. Two lights and then right, Ill be outside." He dropped the phone into the cushions and went for his jacket, fumbling around for his boots before sliding the cat off of the right side. What a night.
As he stepped outside, he heard the squealing of tires. Someone had come off of Lake in a hurry, and he could easily guess who that was. She saw him outside and whipped the SUV to the left, spewing loose pebbles onto the sidewalk as she pulled in. She got out and hurried over to him as they both heard a second squeal of tires. With someone else standing with her, all visible traces of fear evaporated. She stood shoulder to shoulder with him as the Lumina came around the corner. The car slowed, as if to make the same turn, and stopped in the street. Inside Dom's brain, gears turned. I wonder if this will work.
As the door of the car opened, he reached down to the waist of the tall t shirt he wore. "You might want to turn around!"
Even muffled by the falling snow, his voice split the gathering darkness, and the door stopped moving forward. He kept his hand at his waist, and waited, stone faced with racing heart. The door closed, and he could hear some grumbling and slurs as the car pulled off.
Only then did he allow himself time to look at Anne. She was sweating, even in the cold, and her bare shoulders were shaking. She turned to him and wrapped him in her arms, and purely by reflex he embraced her.
