This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older.
A Trip to Remember
"Are you serious? Staying at the office late again?"
"Yes, I'm just swamped with work from the Lawrence case. I told you about it last week." His tone shifted from casual to stern.
"I remember just fine. It's just we haven't enjoyed a nice dinner together in weeks."
"I understand. I promise once this case is done, we'll spend more time together."
"That's what you said about the last case, and the one before that, and the one before that."
"Stacy, cut me some slack would ya?"
"Fine, have a wonderful night at the office. See-ya whenever you decide to come home."
"Bye."
I mash the end button on my IPhone multiple times with my index finger until the pain shoots up my hand. Not nearly the satisfaction I used to get back in the day from slamming the old corded phones down on the receiver. Made me feel good when I was pissed off and hung up on somebody, hearing the metal and metal clang. Cell phones aren't the same.
Night after night, my husband Tyler works late at "Kilroy's and Associates". A law firm he's been employed with for the last ten years. Don't get me wrong, I realize sometimes he needs to work after hours to finish a project. Lately though, he's been working excessive hours even by lawyers' standards. We spend essentially zero time together. On top of that, we fight so much I don't even want to have a conversation with him. I feel like we're slowly drifting apart as a married couple. Like I'm not a priority to him anymore.
I walk over to the recently set kitchen table, lean in close and blow out the white candle that's in the center. As the flame flickers and vanishes, smoke dances in the air. The kitchen, now only lit by the faint glow of the living room lights. I pull out one of the two chairs and sit down while scooting up close to the wooden dining room table. The faint signs of smoke still loom in front of me before soon vanishing.
I peer across the dim room at the empty seat. In front, a warm plate of tender prime rib with a side of steamed green beans and mashed potatoes. A full glass of red wine standing still to the side. I lose myself for a moment, drifting off into space. Not really thinking about anything. Just staring off into the darkness. I pull myself back to reality and look down at my plate of food which is growing colder by the minute.
I cooked a great dinner. I'm not going to let him ruin it again.
Picking up my fork and knife, I dig in. The prime rib is to die for. Juicy and tender with just the right amount of pink in the middle. The crisp, steamed green beans deliver a crunch with every bite. The mashed potatoes mixed with brown gravy is delicious, like always. Everything is washed down with a glass of Cabernet red wine.
Through the meal, I keep looking over at the empty seat across from me. As if one of these moments, he's going to magically appear. As the night proceeds, I finish the delightful dinner. Yet again...alone. I stack my dirty plate and silverware in the dishwasher while tossing his plate of food straight into the trash can. I thought about wrapping it up and placing it in the fridge for when he gets home but that was quickly dismissed. The anger in me has taken over at this point.
I clench the full glass of wine that was meant for him with one hand and the bottle with the other. Heading into the living room, I flip the light switch off with my elbow. The only remaining light illuminating from the T.V, giving off a slight glow to the nearby furniture. I set the glass and wine bottle down onto the end table and plop my butt on the couch. Grabbing the remote, I flip through the channels until something catches my eye.
In the heat of the night,
is the title.
Looks like a romance movie, I'll give it a shot.
I'm not a big fan of the whole romance genre. Not because I don't like them, they just draw out some deep seeded emotions of mine. Mostly sadness, sadness that my life isn't a romantic movie. Sadness that it doesn't have any romance
at all
. Still, I turn up the volume and drink my glass of wine. It's about a married woman who loses her memory in a car crash and her husband tries to make her fall in love with him all over again. As the movie ends, I'm just finishing up the last bit of wine from the bottle. I did away with the glass an hour ago, figured drinking straight from the bottle was in the cards tonight.
I turn the television off with the remote and lay down on the couch. My eyes wander up to the ceiling, following shadows from the trees swaying in the moonlight. A tear slowly slides down my left cheek as I think about my twenty-year marriage to Tyler. How in the beginning we had such immense fun together. How romantic he was. Taking me out on lavish dates. Always holding the car door open for me. Buying me flowers for no reason. Even writing me love letters.
I became pregnant with Jason on our honeymoon which is exactly what we were hoping for. Everything fell into place like puzzle pieces after that. Nice home in the country with lots of land. Tyler became a partner at his law firm. I even rose in the ranks in my own profession. Being a stay at home mother just wasn't something I wanted to do. Not that it wouldn't have been fulfilling for me but I still had ambition in my career.
After Jason departed for college at 19, Tyler became increasingly distant. Spending extra nights at the office, fighting with me over nonsense, and our romantic life basically became nonexistent. Despite my efforts, it didn't seem to matter. He's committed little to no energy into our relationship these past few years. I honestly don't know how much longer I can endure. As I blink, more salty drops of liquid glide down each cheek.
I wonder if he even loves me anymore. I can't recall the last time he expressed it. What if he's falling in love with somebody else? That's why he's always staying late at the office. What if he's secretly cheating on me?
Tears now streaming down, I roll over and smush my salty face into the soft couch pillow and ball myself to sleep.
* * *
I awake abruptly to the sound of the kitchen blender. I sit up, let out a long yawn and stretch my arms above my head. Instantly I notice the pounding headache. I suppose a whole bottle of wine will do that to a person if they're not accustomed to drinking. I walk into the kitchen to see Tyler standing at the counter, blending up his morning fruit smoothie.
"Hey there, drink a little too much last night?" His eyes scolding me as he speaks.
I make a beeline straight for the cupboard above the sink, refraining from even acknowledging his existence. I pull out the small bottle of Advil and pop two in my mouth before filling a glass with water to wash them down with.
"So, the silent treatment again huh?"
His voice is comparable to nails on a chalkboard. Every word spewing from his mouth compels me to slap him across his smug face. Knock that snub, shit eating grin clean off. I've never laid my hands on him before but it's becoming progressively tempting.
Keep calm, he always has his smart-ass remarks. Doesn't mean you need to resort to his level of asshole-ness.
