Stay Tuned

Chapter 21

Sunday morning, my emotions bounced from thrilled to worried and back again. Where was Chris? How would Monday night go?
    
I cleaned the house. I finished the laundry. Talked to Kelly, twice. I straightened and re-arranged my closet. Again.
    
By the time I started dinner, my excitement and anxiety had softened to manageable level. There was something therapeutic about chopping carrots and peppers into bite-sized pieces with a huge knife.

Mid-slice, the door to the kitchen creaked open. His footsteps echoed in the hallway.
    
“Hi,” I waved from the counter.
   
He came to a dead stop. “What’d you do to your hair?” I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or impressed.
    
“Needed a change,” I said casually, reaching for the wok.
    
“You look great,” Chris exclaimed. “I mean it.” He grabbed a carrot and popped it in his mouth, then came closer to get a better look. “Any new developments at the station?”
    
I concentrated on making loops of oil in the pan, then tossed vegetables into the wok. “Not that I know of. I’m counting on Monday being a little crazy.”
     
If you’d returned my phone calls… I bit my lip instead of saying the words. I wasn’t about to ruin the only decent conversation we’d had in a while.
    
Chris grimaced. “Yeah, work’s been nuts for me, too.”
    
“How was Montgomery?”
    
Chris hoisted himself up and sat on the counter. “It was a good. Very productive. I think we landed a new client. A marketing firm that specializes in corporate imaging.”
    
“So they make companies more likeable?”
    
Chris nodded. “In a nutshell. And hopefully more profitable because of it.”
    
“Can I ask you something?”
    
“Um, sure.” Chris unfolded himself from the countertop, ambled over to the loveseat, and sat down.
    
I pursed my lips. “Drew’s bringing back Rick Roberts in Tim’s place. You remember him, right?”
    
My husband nodded and shrugged.
    
“And I told you, someone has to replace Alyssa. I’m filling in, but I’m not sure it’ll be permanent. Or that I want it to be,” I added quickly. “I’m not sure.”
    
I hoped he’d catch the hint and suggest that I go for it. Give me a vote of confidence. But being the left-brained guy he is, my husband didn’t pick up on the subtle suggestion.
    
Chris rubbed his hands together and watched the screen. “Doesn’t Drew have the final say? And isn’t it subjective? For instance, who you like isn’t necessarily who I like.”
    
“That’s true.” I pressed Chris again. “But why are people drawn to certain anchors? Is it being good-looking? Or the way they dress, a sense of humor, being professional?”
    
“If I had to narrow it down, the ones who grab my attention are smart, interesting, and seem to care. They have a spark,” Chris said finally.
    
“A spark?” I repeated.
    
“Something special.”
    
His phone buzzed.
    
Part of me wanted to jump up and kiss him, get him to ignore the caller. The other part told me not to bother. Chris was already getting up from the table and checking his messages, ready to dash out the door.
    
For once in my life, I wasn’t going to let him just leave. “What’s going on?”
    
Chris froze in front of me.
    
“Is it something urgent?”
    
He shook his head, reluctantly moved back to his chair, his shoulders hunched up, eyes darting around the room.
    
I forced myself to sit and wait. The silence was killing me. My heart wanted to pound out of my chest.
    
When he realized I was serious, Chris heaved a sigh, leaned forward, and put both elbows on the table. “I guess I don’t understand.” Chris’s eyes flickered across my face. “It’s like…all of a sudden…Bam!”
    
The sound made me jump.
    
“I come home, and there’s a new Melissa. And now you want my in-depth opinion on who the station should hire?”
    
My mouth dropped open. Chris ignored the look on my face and kept talking. “On the one hand, I’m flattered. On the other hand, I’m just confused. Since Kelly left, you’ve been different. I know it’s lonely and I’m gone a lot. But these changes—your hair, the makeup, the clothes—it’s all so sudden. Like you’re trying to be someone you’re not.”
    
A chill swept over me. Before I exploded with frustration, I counted backwards from ten, something I used to do when Kelly threw childhood temper tantrums.
    
I made my voice was calm and level. “Chris, you’ve hurt my feelings. I wanted your opinion on the anchors because I care about what you think.” I sniffed back a tear. “And, I didn’t plan this whole thing. I went shopping. And then Candace talked me into…It just happened.”
    
A look of guilt began to creep across Chris’s face.
    
My throat tightened.
    
His phone started buzzing again.
    
“Perfect timing.” I stood up and started walking out of the living room.
    
“Melissa. I’ll just be a minute. Come back here,” Chris called, louder than his phone.
    
My shoulders tensed. Ordering me around was not going to help. I turned and gave him the best haughty look I could manage in bare feet and a t-shirt.
    
His hand, inches from answering his phone, stopped in mid-air.
    
We were about six feet apart, but the space between us might as well have been the Grand Canyon, howling with wind. If I took another step, I’d end up at the bottom, in a gulch, with a donkey licking my face. And I wasn’t throwing Chris a line to get across to my side. I felt like the villainess in a movie, sawing away at a flimsy rope bridge with a knife.
    
Chris’s phone continued to vibrate.
    
“Go ahead, get it,” I said and pointed to the phone, daring him, then crossed my arms tight. “You can’t help yourself, can you? Work is more important than anything in the universe.”
  
Chris looked like I’d stabbed him with a hot poker. He physically flinched, momentarily off-balance.
 
The phone stopped ringing.

“Look, I’m up for this promotion, but have to compete with cutthroat co-workers to get it. This Tyler will do anything.” Chris defended himself. The vein in his forehead pulsed, a sure sign his temper was just shy of maximum overdrive. “You don’t know the pressure I’m under—”

“You’re right, I don’t,” I cut in before he had a chance to explain any further. “Like this weekend. You couldn’t yank yourself away from the newspaper to even hear what I was saying.”
    
“You’re not the only one who’s made sacrifices in this marriage,” Chris snapped back at me. “I know you didn’t get to travel across Europe. I know you wanted another baby. Well, I wanted to start my own business, but it didn’t turn out that way.”
     
Ouch. I didn’t realize it was still so painful for him. I swallowed hard.

Chris frowned. “You didn’t see the article.”
    
It was a statement, not a question.

“Which article?” He couldn’t be talking about WSGA. It had to be something else.

“The one about Macon Financial. And Tyler,” Chris said. “The wonderful addition to the team, blah, blah, blah.” He rubbed his chin. “You don’t realize it, but I’m struggling to keep up with all of Tyler’s ‘great’ ideas. It’s all about who can work harder and longer.”

“I’m sorry,” My voice faltered.

Chris ran a hand through his hair. “Melissa…”
    
His phone rattled again. My eyes flew to the slim, rectangular piece of metal.
     
Don’t answer it.
  
But he did. My husband turned his back to me. “Chris Moore.”
    
My will to fight dissolved in the pit of my stomach.
    
Beaten by a cell phone. Who was I to compete with unlimited nationwide minutes and reliable coverage?