Stay Tuned

Chapter 10

As the beams from my headlights filled the garage, I breathed a sigh of relief. The work issues, Alyssa, everything could be handled tomorrow. I was home with Chris. My spirits lifted instantly at the thought of seeing him.
    
As I walked into the house, I noticed a glow of light from the downstairs office.
    
Chris was probably working with papers stacked high, cell phone off, and his pencil behind his ear. We could have a late-night drink, catch up, snuggle. Hey, we could even fool around. Now that would get his attention.
    
I snuck down the stairs and peeked into the room.
    
Empty. Hmm. I flicked the lights off.
    
Back up on the main floor, I checked the living room, the kitchen. Then, I heard him. Snoring.
 
My heart sank for a moment, but my optimism surged back when I decided on plan B. Make some noise. Maybe he’ll wake up and want to talk. I opened drawers, talked to myself, unloaded bags, rustled papers. For kicks, I flipped on the overhead light.
  
Chris grunted and rolled over.
    
“Honey,” I said gently and kissed his cheek. “I’m here. I missed you.” He rubbed at his chin and kept his eyes shut. “Want to mess around?”
    
My hand hovered inches from his shoulder until the steady blink of a tiny light on his cell phone made me pause.
      
Hmm. I could just check to see who called. Just in case. What if there was an emergency? He’d want me to wake him up…
    
I picked up the phone and flipped it over.
    
Chris stirred again. He turned his head, his face like a baby’s, peaceful and innocent. The sight of him sleeping so soundly, not a care in the world, made me stop in my tracks.
    
What was I doing? It was probably work, or a golf buddy, or Kelly.
    
I was definitely overreacting.
    
No. No. No. I shut off the television and turned out the light. Neurotic wife syndrome and the anticipated stress of work tomorrow were making me paranoid. I was going to sleep before I hurt anyone.
    
Namely myself.
 
The rest of the week flew by without major incident.
    
After a ‘come to Jesus meeting,’ Alyssa was on her best behavior. Drew relaxed back into his groove. Best of all, the Ask Anything tapings were going smoothly, now that Tim was handling the interviews. All we had to do was get through Friday.
    
When I got up Friday morning, my own sanity batteries sufficiently recharged, I found one yellow Post-it note patiently waiting for me in the center of the granite countertop in the kitchen.
    
Funny thing was, there used to be sentences—or at least phrases—on those little sticky-backed squares, followed by, “Love always, Chris,” or, “I miss you,” and, “Can’t wait to see you tonight.”

This morning’s communication consisted of three neatly printed words, right next to a dish of half-eaten egg whites and a glass of tomato juice.
    
“Can’t do lunch.”
    
I stared at the letters, trying not to get upset. We’d made the plans, had reservations at that cute new bistro. A mini-date. We needed to spend some time together…doing…something. I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged on the ends, thinking.
    
So much for that. My promise to be patient and understanding “no matter what” sounded a bit foolish right now. Could he not rearrange an appointment? Was it life or death? Didn’t I deserve more than a Post-it note cancellation?
    
It was starting to become very apparent—no, obvious—that Chris didn’t think so. And I wondered if anything would change. Like, if we won the lottery, Chris got a big raise, or after a dozen of his high-paying clients signed contracts for ten years, would we ever spend time together again?
    
I wasn’t so sure.
    
The Post-it caught my eye again. Now, there was no telling when Chris would be home.
I could call his assistant. Or his cell phone. I could leave him a voicemail.
    
Or I could leave the house and grab coffee with Candace. Call my daughter and get the update on life at Berkeley. Had she fallen in love with any new boys this week? Gone to the beach with friends? Learned to surf?
    
Maybe I should head out to the gym or go to work early. I’d get twice as much accomplished. Anything rather than moping around here like a lost puppy.
   
I laid another Post-it inches from Chris’s. In larger block letters than his, I printed one word. “Fine.”
    
I stood back and looked at it with satisfaction. There.
    
I felt better already.