Rob peered
out from behind the Sunday sports section. Across the room he observed his wife
Shelia, doing some sort of handwork with tiny needles. Crocheting, maybe? He
didn't know. Had no clue. Didn't care. She was dressed in a teal blue, floral
print skirt and a white peasant blouse. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a
pony-tail. Her full lips and high cheekbones, once so beguiling to him, were
now anything but, just plain and unremarkable, nothing to write home about. He
sighed and turned back to check on the baseball scores but only for a minute.
He was having trouble concentrating. "I wonder," he thought to himself,
"If today's the day I tell her I'm thinking of leaving."
Shelia worked at the local middle school
as a teacher's aide. She was a diligent employee at the school, and she was
just as diligent at home where she was as handy with a power drill as she was
in the kitchen. She'd single handedly painted all of the walls in all of the
rooms of their small bungalow style home. She'd put up book shelves. She'd pulled
up all the old carpeting and sanded and refinished the wooden floors. She kept
the house neat and clean and tidy. She cooked fabulous, healthy meals. She'd even
made the skirt she was wearing.
She'd also made the baby quilt laying
on the floor between them. On it, seven-month old Emily lay rolling back and
forth playing with a rattle. She'd recently learned how to turn herself over
and now lay arching her back, attempting the feat yet again. Rob watched,
disinterested, as his daughter made a move, and finally rolled onto her
stomach. Imperceptibly, he shook his head, big friggin' deal.
Shelia's excited voice cut through the
silence of the room, "Emy, look at you. Good girl, sweetheart. You're
getting to be such a big girl."
God, how ridiculous, thought Rob. He
set his paper aside, thinking, "I've had enough."
At that same moment, almost like it
was orchestrated, Shelia set down the project she was working on, a crocheted
cap for Emily, and got to her feet. She reached down, and in one swipe picked
up her daughter and carried her into the kitchen. "I'm going to fix Emy
some cereal," she told Rob, "What are your plans for the day?"
Rob got up and followed behind. He
worked as an IT specialist for a large company in Minneapolis, twenty-five
miles west of their home in the small town of Long Lake. He'd been there for
ten years now, four years longer than he and Shelia had been married. It was a
moderately stressful job so Sunday mornings he usually went for a long run to
have some time alone and unwind. Usually, but not today.
"There's something I need to
talk to you about," he said, looked at the back of her head, noticing
strands of grey, wondering what he'd ever seen in her, "Something I want to
tell you."
Shelia took a small pan out from a
lower cupboard and filled it with water, "What?"
Rob watched as she added dry cereal,
put the pan on the burner and turned the stove on, all the while bouncing Emily
on her hip. "I..." he paused. Did he really want to do this? Did he
really want to give up this life? His wife? His daughter? Their home? Security?
Give it all up for his freedom and the chance to do whatever he wanted to do? Asked
and answered. You bet he did. He finished his thought, "I'm thinking of
leaving. Moving out. Steve from work says I can live with him. He's got an
apartment near the office and some extra space. He says I can stay with him for
a while."
Before he started to ramble too
much, he forced himself to stop. Was he nervous? Yeah, a little. But, truth be
told, it felt good to get the words out and tell it like it was to Shelia. Who
knew? Maybe she'd beg him stay. Maybe she'd break down and cry and plead with
him not to go. Maybe she'd make good on her wedding vow to be a good wife to
him and not take so much time with her precious Emy. Maybe she'd promise to
make an effort to treat him like he deserved to be treated. The breadwinner.
The man of the house.
He waited for her answer.
"So you really want to leave?"
Shelia asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Her answer surprised him.
"Well, good," she said, "Great. In fact, it's about time. I'll
tell you what. I'm going to feed Emy and get her changed. We've got a play date
at 10 am at Susie's." She made it a point of looking at the clock on the
wall. "It's 9:30 right now. I'll be home by noon. I want you out by
then."
She turned her back on him and set
Emily in her high chair. Then she turned off the burner and went about
finishing fixing breakfast for their daughter.
Hmm. Unperturbed and feeling rather
liberated, Rob walked to the back of the house where their bedroom was. That
was easy. He scratched his chin, noting the rough feel of his whiskers, and at
that very moment had a thought, "Maybe I'll start growing a beard. That'd
be fun. It's something I've always wanted to do. In fact, now that I can do
anything I want to do, I think I will. I think I'll grow a beard."
He took down two travel bags out of
the top shelf in the closet and began packing. Shelia had given him until noon
to move out. Hell, he'd be gone way before then.
Rob didn't hear the conversation coming
from the kitchen. "Hi, Susie, it's me. Yeah, I'll be there in a little
bit, but I've got some good news for you. Exciting news, in fact. It's about Rob.
He's finally leaving. Yeah. Seriously. No, I'm good. I told him it was about
time. I think he was shocked, but so what? I'm sick of him and his idiotic
attitudes. Yeah, but don't worry, I'll figure out something. We'll talk more
when I get there. Okay? Yeah. Bye."
Shelia hung up and wiped some cereal
from her daughter's chin. She grinned at the cute little girl and fed her some
more food, leaning close so they could rub noses. Emily giggled. "We're
going to be just fine, sweetheart," she said, her grin turning into a big
smile, "I promise, Emy. It'll be just the two of us now, and we're going
be just fine."
No comments:
Post a Comment