"I know, I will," she said. "I promise."
She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily once Wanda had left her office. For heaven's sake, her marital problems were now showing up at work. The one place that was supposed to be her refuge. She needed to get it together, and fast. If only she could talk to someone about her problems. She didn't want to involve her colleagues in her personal life, and she didn't have anyone else except maybe her sister. What had happened to all her girlfriends? They used to be so close, sharing all the ups and downs of being single. She had slowly drifted away from them when she had started dating her husband, and at the time she had thought that it was just natural. As she sat thinking about it, she realized that maybe it wasn't a simple case of growing apart. Her girlfriends were never overly fond of her husband, right from the beginning. They tried to hide it, but she could tell. And so, she recalled, could he.
They'd spent so much time together in the beginning that she had just found it easier to beg off a girl's night out or an invitation to an event, rather than justify 'girl time' to him. At the time it had only made sense; she had spent years forging relationships with her girlfriends, and now it was time to put her focus on her relationship. But she wondered now why it was that she hadn't tried harder to blend the two parts of her life better.
Calling up those girlfriends now, after so much time, and expecting to be able to talk to them with the same kind of closeness and candor they had shared in the past just didn't seem possible or fair. She would appear to be running back because she needed something from them.
"Oh, Lord!" she cried out, laying her head on her arms, stretched out on the desktop. She felt so alone and trapped. When she and her husband had married, she'd thought it meant she would never have to be alone again. How ironic that she now felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life!
She lay stretched out on her desk for a few minutes more before she sat up and took a deep breath. Enough with feeling sorry for herself! She had work to do, and she could figure the rest of this out later - sitting and moping in her own misery wasn't going to solve anything.
~~~
Hours later, the tantalizing aroma of frying seafood met her nose as soon as she opened her front door. She couldn't help but feel her heart leap, as he had always cooked when he was happy, and whenever he was in a good mood, he was always much more open toward her and willing to talk.
"That smells amazing!" she exclaimed as she walked into the kitchen. "What are you cooking?"
"Some fried calamari, mushrooms, and onions topped with a salad," he answered. "Go wash up, and we'll eat."
When she came back into the kitchen, he had pulled down plates and cups from the cupboard and was setting out a bottle of wine. She noticed he had a tumbler of clear liquid sitting on the counter, a half-melted ice cube floating in the middle of it. As she picked up the plates to set on the table, he reached into the freezer and pulled out a bottle of vodka, which he poured into his glass, topping it off.
Her earlier thoughts about how things were when they had first started dating came back to her. She reflected on what a contrast the amount he drank now as compared to when they met. This was just another thing that had changed drastically. For the first time, she let herself acknowledge that the bottle in the freezer was nowhere near the first one that she had found there. The truth was, the bottles in the freezer were just another thing she tried not to think about too much.
"You're looking awfully deep in thought," he commented, taking the plates from her and setting them on the table.
"I was just wondering what happened to you this morning," she responded. She hadn't intended on jumping right into things, but the words were out before she had a chance to decide whether it was wise or not.
"When this morning?" he asked, rearranging the cutlery around their plates.
"The counselor?" she asked. "We had an appointment."
"No, we didn't," he stated with confidence.
"Yes, we did," she disagreed with a tinge of impatience in her voice.
"Don't be silly! We didn't book the second one because we weren't sure if we liked her," he argued.
"What? We booked the second appointment right there in the office after the first one!" she stared at him incredulously.
"Yes, but I assumed you canceled it after I told you I didn't feel she was right for us," he responded patiently.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. After their first appointment, she had asked him how he felt it went and he'd said that he wasn't sure he'd liked her. She had explained that it might take a bit of time to develop some trust, and that wasn't unusual. That had been the end of the conversation. Why would he have assumed she had canceled it based on that?
"No, I didn't cancel it," she answered through gritted teeth.
"Well, sorry then, but I can't be expected to show up to something I knew nothing about," he stated emphatically.
"But you did know about it!" she felt as though she had entered some alternate universe where she thought she was speaking English, but he was hearing a different language.
"Look, let's not fight," he placated her, taking her by the elbow and leading her to her chair. "Have a seat, let's have a nice dinner and enjoy each other's company."
She sat down, caught between confusion, anger, and a desire to let it all go and just enjoy herself for a change. She chose the path of least resistance and reached out to pour herself some wine.
"So, how was your day?" he asked.
"Fine," she answered, deciding not to tell him about how hard she had found it to recover from her solo counseling session.
"Good, you're good at your job," he said. "How many years have you been working there now?"
"About eight years," she answered. "Or maybe it's nine now?"
"You've given them a lot of your time and energy over the years," he commented. "Have you ever considered looking at something else, just for a change?"
"No. Why would I?" she asked, slightly confused as to where this line of questioning had come from. "It pays well, I enjoy it, and I'm good at it."
"Of course you are, but don't you find life a bit boring if it's the 'same ole same ole' all the time?" he asked.
"No, not really," she answered.
"I'm not sure I could last at any job that long," he commented. "I think the longest for me has been four years."
"Yes, but you have the type of job where you can work just about anywhere," she explained. "My job is a little bit less so, as I have become more focused over the years."
"True," he said.
They ate their dinner in silence, savoring his cooking. He didn't cook often, but when he did, he had some amazing recipes. Afterward, they both sat back in their chairs, her with a glass of wine in her hand and him running his finger along the rim of his drink.
"So, I've been thinking," he broke the silence.
"About what?" she asked, feeling an odd, indescribable sense of unease.
"Maybe what we need is a change of pace," he suggested. "to help our marriage and bring back a sense of adventure."