This story won't make much sense if you haven't read the first part, so I urge you to check that out, then read this. Enjoy.
*
Thursday. Six days gone, and other than a quick email on Saturday telling me that she'd got to where she was going, I hadn't heard a peep from Laura. No word as to where she was or why she was there.
I was loathe to call her folks because I couldn't think of any way to ask if she was there or if they knew where she'd gone. That would have opened a can of worms I really didn't want to open.
She'd asked me to think about what I'd done, and I'd spent almost every waking moment doing just that. It had certainly gotten in my way at work. One of the other junior members of the firm had taken to calling me Space Cadet and it was only a matter of time until one of the senior partners heard about the sudden downturn in my work performance. I was the guy on the fast track and there were lots of people behind me who'd like nothing more than to slow down my progress. I had to try to pull myself together.
But where the hell had Laura gone?
About mid-afternoon, Cindy bounced her way to my desk. She had on a sweater and skirt that left little to the imagination and was JUST this side of being inappropriately dressed for a law office. All the guys had been ogling her most of the day.
"Hey, James," she said, parking her behind on the corner of my desk, "Charlie has been saying all morning that he thinks you're losing it. What's up?"
She leaned farther over the desk, her boobs practically falling out of the sweater.
I squeezed my eyes shut and I'm sure she noticed. "Nothing. I think I've got some sort of stomach bug and we're so busy, I don't dare take any time off. I'll be all right."
Cindy's voice took on a seductive huskiness. "You haven't had a chance to reconsider my offer, have you? I could take you home and nurse you back to health."
At the mention of the word "nurse", we both looked down at her ample breasts.
"No. I just need to make it through tomorrow and then I'm going to do nothing this weekend except to try to get better."
"Isn't your wife taking care of you?"
"She's pretty busy, too. Like I said, we're going to take the weekend and lay low."
Cindy grinned. "Laying low sounds great to me. Actually, laying any way sounds great to me. If she doesn't take care of you, do us both a favor and call me."
With that she wiggled that fine little butt of hers out of my office. I put my head down on my arms.
Maybe I was being a fool. Maybe I was backing the losing horse in this race.
As I drove home to another long and lonely night, I thought for the hundredth time about what I'd done the previous week. I still felt that I'd had no choice. If I'd done nothing, nothing would have gotten better. We'd talked around and around the problem for over a year with no progress. Laura was just not willing to even entertain the THOUGHT of changing her ways. She'd needed something to shake her up and I'd given her that.
Each night I'd come home, it had been with the hope that I might see some lights on, might not come home to a cold and empty house. Tonight was no different, except that snow had started to fall. They were predicting a big dump, the kind you get to expect in January in Chicago. Maybe I'd have the perfect excuse to stay home tomorrow. An extra day off would certainly help me get my head back together.
Going to the fridge, I got out a frozen pasta dinner, third one this week. With the door still held open by my right hand, I considered whether to open a bottle of wine or pour myself some scotch on the rocks. The scotch won out and I grabbed a handful of cubes and slammed the door shut.
The glass was a crystal one, part of a set that had been a wedding present from my secretary. The ice made an inviting tinkle as I tossed in the cubes. After putting the pasta in the microwave, I wandered off to my office to fill my glass with liquid memory wiper.
Tonight was the time to forget. Tomorrow would be the time to move on.
Booting up my laptop, I stared at the screen as it went through the warm up sequence, a gulp of scotch boring a warming hole in my stomach. With another gulp, I put it down and checked my email for about the fiftieth time that day. Usual junk mail, a funny email from my brother, but not a peep from the person I needed most to hear from. Was she gone for good? Maybe someone would show up at the door and serve me with the divorce papers. If she really wanted to be cruel, she'd do it when I was at work.
I picked up my scotch and wandered out to the kitchen after the microwave alert sounded for the third of fourth time. Five minutes after I'd finished eating it, I couldn't have told you what kind of pasta it was.
The Bulls were playing that night, so I flipped on the TV and tried to switch off my brain.
The ringing phone jolted me out of an extended doze. I looked at the clock on the wall: 9:30.
"Yeah?"
There was silence for a couple of heartbeats and then Laura's voice, "James?"
"That's me."
"Your voice sounds strange."
"Really? I can't imagine why."
Silence again.
I had to pull myself together. This was not the way to start what could be our last civil conversation.
"I'm sorry, Laura. I'd dozed off and I'm not quite awake." I'd also had two pretty healthy drinks. "Where are you?"
"Chicago. My plane just got in. They've closed O'Hare and there isn't a cab to be had anywhere."
"Would you like me to pick you up?"
"That sort of was the idea."
I got up and looked out the window. The snow was coming down really hard, and there was a stiff wind whipping it around.
"It might take me awhile."
"I'll wait."
"I'll call your cell when I'm out front. What airline?"
"United. Don't rush, though. It's pretty miserable out."
"See you soon."
She clicked off without a further word. I felt like I should toss a coin. Heads I win, tails I lose. Her voice and words had told me nothing.
Laura maybe thinks too much. I marveled at how often she'd mull something over about twice as long as any normal human, but she would always come up with the right answer. Question was, what would be the correct answer for her this time?
Coming from northern New York State, I'm used to driving in bad snow, but that night I was at the edge of my ability. Fortunately, most sane people had believed the weather man and gone home for the night, so the expressway was not all that crowded. Still, it took twenty minutes longer than usual to make the trip to O'Hare.
Laura was standing at one of the windows as I drove up. I barely had time to get out of the car before she was at the curb with her overnight bag.
