It seemed like any other night. They were late—more specifically, she was late; he was just waiting. He looked at the clock. It was quarter past eight. Yes, they were already fifteen minutes late, and they still had to drive to the party. On any other evening, he would have ascended the stairs to their bedroom. He would have knocked on the door. He would have told her she was taking too long. She would have told him to go away. But, tonight was different. Tonight, he could not rush her…not after what she had been through. For all he cared, she could be fifteen hours late; he would not hasten her.
He peered at the clock again—half past eight. Taking a seat in the foyer, he crossed his legs and looked about aimlessly for some sort of preoccupation. He glanced at the table beside him. There, enclosed in a delicate silver frame was a picture of her. It was such a lovely picture; he had taken it two years ago, on their trip to Europe. She hadn’t realized he had his camera; otherwise, she would have looked away, shielded her face with a hand. She looked so young, so happy, so…healthy. He sighed.
Just then, he heard a noise from upstairs—a fast, brisk step, accompanied by the soft rustling of a skirt. He looked up, slowly rose. She looked well; the color had returned to her face, and her expression was much more relaxed. He smiled. She raised an eyebrow, then offered him a little hand. He took it, kissed it, and told her she looked wonderful. She said she knew.
Without hesitation, she brushed past him, grabbed her coat, and danced her way out door, leaving it open behind her. She took three steps down the driveway before she noticed he was still inside. Playfully, she turned and glanced back towards him. She asked him if he was coming. He told her he was. With a little smirk, she continued her way towards the car, instructing him to hurry up. He couldn’t help but grin. What would he do without her? The thought haunted him…more so now than ever. But, he couldn’t think about that. He had to be strong; he couldn’t let her see him falter. So, with a deep breath, he stepped out the door, closing it firmly behind him.
They took their usual seats at the theatre. They were wonderful seats—just feet away from the orchestra. All the other women he had known preferred to sit in a private box…but she always loved being near the stage. She enjoyed the performance immensely; she laughed and smiled and applauded the entire three hours. Normally, he would have done the same. Yet, tonight he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He felt he was watching a wonderful performance…a performance that might end at any moment. The thought frightened him, and he found himself clinging to his seat more tightly than ever before.
Soon after, the show ended. On any other night, they would have gone out for dinner, or stopped for a drink somewhere. But tonight, they just wanted to go home…though neither would admit it.
They returned to the house around midnight. There was no moon out that evening, and everything was pitch black. Hand in hand, they approached the front door. Upon entering, the house was completely dark. All that could be seen was a single, blinking red light…coming from the phone. He looked at her; she looked back at him. For a moment they stood still, until finally, she flicked on the lights.
Almost mechanically, she glided towards the table, on which the phone lay. As she moved, she ran her hand along its edge, clinging to it, as if for support. For half a minute, she stared motionlessly at the flashing light. Part of her wanted to dash up the stairs; the other longed to smash the machine to pieces. She did neither. Instead, she turned slowly, almost instinctively back towards him.
He was just as stunned as her. He had expected the news to come sometime, but certainly not this soon. His heart seemed to stop; his breathing nearly ceased. He bit his lip. Then, with a solemn march, he approached his wife.
Ever so gently, he enveloped her in his arms, staring passionately down at her. Though masked in bravery, she could see the tears filling his eyes. She swallowed hard, looked down briefly, and pressed her head up against his chest. After a few sniffles, she looked back up at him. For three seconds, their eyes fixed upon each other. He grabbed her hand; she clutched his. Then, with a quivering finger, she pressed the button.