“Hey, D. Where’s the remote?”
My heart sank. Was he freaking kidding me? He had to be, right? He was just trying to tease me or something, surely? “The what?”
“The remote, D, the remote. You were in the living room earlier before you left, and the game’s about to start. I need it. What’d you do with it?” He sounded completely exasperated. I knew the look he'd be giving me if I was there in person as well. It was the one that questioned my intelligence when I asked for clarification, the one that said he wondered how I could even walk around on my own. His lips would be thinned into a small line, his mouth pulled tight with annoyance, while his eyebrows would drop so low and come so close to touching it was like he not only had a unibrow, but that his eyes weren't even separate entities from his eyebrows.
“Harry,” I said quietly. If he’d been paying attention, he would’ve heard the deadly threat in my voice. “Do you recall what today is?”
“Yes,” he replied almost stupidly. “You’re at the restaurant today.”
I gritted my teeth and spoke through them, trying not to let my anger get the better of me. “Do you remember why I’m at the restaurant? I’ll give you a hint. It’s my grand opening, Harry. My biggest day. You said you'd be here.”
He sighed. “That’s great, hon. I’m beat though. I'll come another day, okay? Oh, would you bring me one of your special dishes when you come home? I don’t have anything for dinner. I’d get takeout but you know I hate the trash that this town serves for a quick meal.”
So my food was at least better than trash. That was something, right? Although I already knew that considering the only ones who ever cooked dinner were myself or our daughters while they were at home.
My whole self just collapsed inside. His careless, thoughtless words absolutely crushed me. He was more worried about what he’d eat than the biggest day of my professional life.
A strange thought came to me. Something my friends had said over and over again, I deserve better. And yet, Harry wasn’t mean. He didn’t hit me or scream at me. Was just being unhappy enough of a reason to divorce someone? I didn’t know, but I I did know I couldn’t think about it right now.
“I gotta go, Harry,” I whispered. “See you later.”
“Sure, but you’re gonna bring home some—” I hung up the phone. He could find the remote his own damn self, hell, at this point he could starve.
Fury and heartache warred within my chest. In the darkened office, with the muffled sounds of an incredibly busy kitchen, I sat and sobbed. I doubted any of the staff out there could hear me, but still I tried to keep my tears quiet even though I wanted to scream and rage and also find one of my friends and ask for a hug.
I had to wait until the tears dried themselves up and I’d gone through several tissues before I was able to think about going back to work. Looking around my office helped ground me. It was small, barely more than a closet, and could hardly fit the desk. There was the desk chair and one other, which was currently covered with invoices and order slips from everything we'd had delivered in the last week or two that I still needed to properly organize.
Mentally I started making a list of everything I'd have to do tomorrow to get ready for regular business. I couldn't let the office sit like this all the time, plus it would give me a reason to get out of the house and away from Harry. I knew myself well enough to know that there wasn't an ice cube's chance in hell of me being able to swallow the bitter pill of his lack of care within the next day or so. I usually got there eventually but having some time to myself always helped.
Sucking in a deep breath and trying to shake off the hurt, I stood and started toward the door, but the phone rang. The shrill noise startled me out of my thoughts.
That better not be Harry.
If it was, I might have had to leave my successful grand opening and drive home to murder him with a soup spoon. Wasn't there a quote about that, dig your heart out with a spoon? And why do I hear it in Alan Rickman's voice? I shake my head, banishing the morbid thoughts and put on my best professional voice as I said, “Deva’s Delights, how can I help you?”
“Deva!” a high-pitched feminine voice squealed. “Oh my gosh it's you! I thought I'd get one of the wait staff or something.”
I burst out laughing, my mood significantly improving. “Emma. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“Of course. I just wish I was there. I'd give you the biggest hug. I’m so proud and happy for you opening your own restaurant! You deserve all the success in the world!” The giddiness in her voice was genuine, and if I knew Emma, she wanted nothing more than for me to succeed. I could practically feel it vibrating from her through the phone. If she was a witch I might have thought she was actually doing a spell or something, but Emma was just human unfortunately. It meant keeping things like my extra special talent with cooking and baking to myself.
“Thank you. When are you coming to town?” I asked. “I’ll feed you the whole time you’re here.” I wished she would visit more. I supposed these days I could go and visit her now the girls had flown the nest, but I didn't want to cause any unnecessary tension between her and Rick.
“Oh, I wish I could.” She paused for a second. And I wasn't sure whether she was lying to me or more to herself as she said, “There’s a lot going on with Rick. Work’s busy. You know how it is.” Her voice went high again as she tried to distract me from what worried me the most about her, her husband. “Youreallyknow how it is now! I always knew you were meant for something big. You were always the one leading our projects in high school… and our shenanigans.”
I chortled. “I seem to remember you egging us on.”
My heart was heavy, and I had a hard time continuing the teasing. “How are things going with Rick?” I asked. “I know you guys have been having some trouble.”
She sighed. I could almost see her coming down from the giddiness of the beginning of the call. I hated being the cause of the change but I was more than a little worried about her. “It’s… I don’t know. Weird. He’s distant. It’s like we live together as roommates rather than lovers. I can’t even…” Another big sigh. “Can’t even tell you the last time we had sex.”
I snorted. “Harry and I had sex the other night. He came in about two minutes. Talk about a wham, bam, thank you ma'am. I finished myself off with my big plug-in vibrator. Not that he cared either way.” Not to mention it had been a quick bang. There hadn’t been anything remotely close to making love about it. For that matter there hadn't even been anything romantic about it in general. I didn't want to dwell on that part though so I asked, “What are we going to do?”
She didn’t give me a real answer, just like I knew if she asked me the same question I wouldn't have a real answer to give her either. Her voice was full of determination as she said, “Right now, you’re going to go focus on your glorious restaurant opening, okay? We have families, and we have to do what has to be done for them.”
She was sort of right. But at the same time, I couldn’t say I was willing to sacrifice my entire life into a marriage where there was no love or appreciation. The girls were gone, and weren't even close by. Why was I torturing myself by staying chained to a man who clearly didn't give two figs about me?
What was happening here? Was I coming to a decision? A turning point? Maybe.
