I walked the length of the driveway allowing the chill to numb me. What had been happening with Susan and me? She would press her lips tightly together and answer that everything was fine whenever I asked her if she was OK. There were too many times when she showed her anger at the small stuff in our life. I know I should do a better job at keeping the garage cleared out so that she could park there. I know that I could do more to help her keep the house in order. I have been trying. I spend at least an hour every day that I am home doing some chores. Of course I always did them wrong.
I walked down the road a bit watching for signs of the missing duo. Dusty liked walking along this part of the road. It was his turf. He had to mark it so other neighborhood dogs knew it. Not that there were a lot of neighbors. We lived in a rural residential area. Houses are stretched thin between undeveloped areas. Some of which are simply wild woods. Some of which are old unused farm pastures. The only other dogs that would walk this part of the road would be the Miller's Cockapoo. They weren't rivals. I couldn't say for sure but I suspected that they were lovers.
The light of day was making it a bit easier to see the length of the highway before it made a slow curve about a mile away. There was clearly nobody walking. Turning back towards home I looked past to the short expanse that ran that half mile before it ended in a T at the highway. You could see some lights of traffic crawling towards the horizon and towards the only city that this area knew. Susan wouldn't go that way.
I wondered if perhaps she finally got sick of everything? The day to day struggles that we seemed to face a bit more these days? I wondered if the death of her friend had awakened her questioning the meaning of life? Did she feel that she was missing key signposts in her existence? It would explain her moodiness. It would explain her anger. I suppose that I should check and see if her car was parked snuggly in the crowded garage. I knew that she had parked it there last night. She had yelled at me about the overflow of my workbench. It had started creeping into the space reserved for her car.
Our neighbors' light snapped on and I knew by habit that John was going through his morning routine. He would be out the door by 6:00am heading to that accounting job that he was a partner at. His wife Janet would be an hour behind him. They had two young kids that she would tow out to the car and buckle in their car seats. I think Susan had told me that they went to some daycare over in Middle Creek. Something Hands? Helping maybe. They were two beautiful girls. Jet black hair like their dad.
The walk back up the driveway seemed to take forever. I would be waking up now. It's funny how habits are formed and stay with you. I had to be at work by eight for so many years that I still got up at the same time. Even though now I worked that 11 to 7 shift at the plant. Hell, I liked getting the kids up. The bus picked them up at 7:30 and there was nothing better than having that bundle of energy bound into your arms all excited to start another adventure of a new day. Poking Peter awake was a tradition too. He didn't like the mornings and I had to keep after him to make sure that he didn't crawl back into bed.
I entered the unlocked door to the garage and still marveled at the fact that we didn't need to lock doors here. That was one of the best things about this community. It was safe. The school was safe for our kids. The neighborhood was safe for our dog and our house was safe from intruders.
Switching the garage light on revealed the blue Subaru parked safely where it had been anchored the night before.
Walking into the garage I could smell the stale air filled with a hint of oil. The Subaru had a slow leak evidenced by the small stain that had formed under it. Even knowing better I opened the front driver door and peered inside. Hoping that Susan had taken some comfort by sitting in the leather interior. She liked to drive when thoughts jumbled in her head. She said it helped her straighten them out. The curves of the road and the hypnotic pull of the wheel soothing her agitation allowing thoughts to seep out at their own pace. I sat in that seat wondering. Did somebody come and pick her up in the middle of the night? Had she wandered off to a neighbor's house? Neither made much sense.
I didn't know what to do. What would I tell the kids when they woke up and asked me where their mother was? How could I explain that I didn't know? In some way I knew that she was running from a sorrow that she had never even thought to share with me. It made me wonder if I was part of the problem. Being married for so many years it was hard not to feel things from your partner. I had convinced myself that it was recovering from the shock and the loss of her friend Ann.
Somewhere deep inside me I knew that it was more. Was she disappointed with her life? We didn't have it so bad did we? We lived in a nice house and had two beautiful kids. Money was tight and we worried a bit but somehow we always seemed to manage.
I ran my fingers through my hair trying to keep my wits. I needed to get the kids up shortly and I just didn't know what to do. Maybe I was just getting upset over nothing. How far could she have gone with Dusty? I bet she was at the neighbors.
I closed the car door and wandered over to my work bench. Sitting there near the window was an ashtray with a single butt crushed in its center. Susan had smoked when we were in college. She had given it up for me. I suspected that she had taken up the habit again.
"Damn it!"
The break in the silence startled me. I could feel my heart beating wildly. We have drifted so far apart. It wasn't fair. She hasn't even given me a chance. My thoughts raced faster and I could feel them hit the frustration that I have housed for some months. We haven't even been intimate in weeks. Hell, months I thought.
"Damn it"
This time my voice was filled with the anger I felt. The frustration that held me. My fist swung soundly down to the bench smacking it loudly.
"ouch"
I felt the sharp jolt scream up my arm straight into my brain. I stared down at my hand and noticed that I had sliced the edge of my hand on a shard of metal. Blood was flowing all over the workbench. I covered it with my other hand and walked towards the door to the kitchen. I am a dumb shit I thought. The hand was throbbing and I knew it was deep.
Cool water from the kitchen sink helped numb the pain. I wrapped it in gauze and tape. As I was muttering to myself Peter stumbled into the kitchen still sleeping while he walked. He headed right for the fridge looking for his morning jumpstart of orange juice. I turned to look at him and he didn't notice me until he was literally right in my face.
"Dad! , you scared the crap out of me." I watched his gaze go from my face to my bandaged hand. His voice slowed with each word as he spoke them.
After an uncomfortable pause he continued with, "Are you OK?"
Blood had soaked through my makeshift bandage and was starting to drip onto the kitchen floor. I looked at him trying to figure out what he was saying and why he was swaying back and forth. More importantly I wondered why the tile floor was flying towards my face.
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