Read Online She's Not Coming Home by Philip Cox - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Cox
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am looking for where I can catch the bus for Logan,’ she repeated.
Matt looked around, trying to make sure he wasn’t missing anybody leaving the building.
‘I-I don’t know, sorry. I…’ he stuttered.
The man at the other end of the bench looked up from his newspaper.
‘You’re best walking up to the Medical Center and catching the Orange Line for Oak Grove,’ he said. ‘Transfer to the Blue Line at State, and then you can get a free shuttle bus from Airport.’
‘Right, thank you very much,’ she said, then turned and began to wheel her little case up towards the station.
‘You’re welcome,’ the man said, and returned to his newspaper.
Involuntarily, Matt looked in the direction of the man as he gave the directions, and out of the corner of his eye he saw two figures – a man and a woman – walk past. As the man looked at the woman, Matt recognized his face. It was the jerk he spoke to at Ruth’s office yesterday. And the woman he was with…
She was unmistakable, even from behind. The five feet six slim figure, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the dark hair, slightly wavy, down to halfway down her back. He didn’t recognize the clothes, but she was always shopping anyway. As they walked, their arms got closer and closer. The body language was not that of two colleagues picking up a sandwich. Then he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
‘I knew it,’ Matt muttered as he got up and followed them down Washington. Suddenly his concern and worry turned to anger: so she was having an affair with this asshole. Why not just tell him? Why put him – and Nathan – through all the worry of not knowing? And was she really walking out on their son?
He quickened his pace as they ran across the first street before the Don’t Walk sign lit up. He braved the traffic as he crossed the street after them; only one driver sounded his horn at him.
As he got back onto the sidewalk, he could no longer see them. He had lost them. Muttering an oath, he looked around. He was now outside the Safeway store. Standing on tiptoe, he looked through the glass doors to try to pick them up.
He ran his hands through his hair. How could he lose them? No problem, he thought; they would have to go back to the office within the hour. He would return to the bus stop and wait there. Then confront them.
He returned to the street. Just before turning to go back to the bus stop, he glanced to his left. And saw them again. Now they both had an arm round the other’s waist. They had stopped and were going in somewhere. Matt walked briskly down the street, checking the premises to see which was the most likely one. After half a block he found a bar. The fascia was cream with green borders. He looked up at the sign: McGann’s Irish Pub. One of many hundred in Boston. He paused a moment, then went in.
The bar was quite full, as one would expect this time of day. He looked around, as his eyes started to get accustomed to the dim lighting. He looked round at the tables: all were occupied, but not by Ruth and her co-worker. There were around a dozen people sitting at the bar. Squinting, Matt looked down the backs of the customers there. At the end of the bar, he saw them. They had just been served: he had a glass of dark beer; Matt couldn’t make out what Ruth was drinking. She normally had white wine when they went out.
Matt walked up to them. As he got to six feet away, the man got up.
‘Sorry; bathroom, honey,’ he laughed, rubbing her shoulder. She put a hand up to her shoulder to touch his.
As he turned to go to the restroom he caught sight of Matt. A couple of seconds passed as he figured out why he recognised Matt. He opened his mouth to say something.
‘Very cosy,’ said Matt, sarcastically.
The man straightened up, keeping his hand on her shoulder.
Ruth turned round.
Chapter Twelve
Only it wasn’t Ruth.
Remarkably similar to be sure, but definitely not Matt’s wife.
The figure was
Matt looked around, trying to make sure he wasn’t missing anybody leaving the building.
‘I-I don’t know, sorry. I…’ he stuttered.
The man at the other end of the bench looked up from his newspaper.
‘You’re best walking up to the Medical Center and catching the Orange Line for Oak Grove,’ he said. ‘Transfer to the Blue Line at State, and then you can get a free shuttle bus from Airport.’
‘Right, thank you very much,’ she said, then turned and began to wheel her little case up towards the station.
‘You’re welcome,’ the man said, and returned to his newspaper.
Involuntarily, Matt looked in the direction of the man as he gave the directions, and out of the corner of his eye he saw two figures – a man and a woman – walk past. As the man looked at the woman, Matt recognized his face. It was the jerk he spoke to at Ruth’s office yesterday. And the woman he was with…
She was unmistakable, even from behind. The five feet six slim figure, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the dark hair, slightly wavy, down to halfway down her back. He didn’t recognize the clothes, but she was always shopping anyway. As they walked, their arms got closer and closer. The body language was not that of two colleagues picking up a sandwich. Then he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
‘I knew it,’ Matt muttered as he got up and followed them down Washington. Suddenly his concern and worry turned to anger: so she was having an affair with this asshole. Why not just tell him? Why put him – and Nathan – through all the worry of not knowing? And was she really walking out on their son?
He quickened his pace as they ran across the first street before the Don’t Walk sign lit up. He braved the traffic as he crossed the street after them; only one driver sounded his horn at him.
As he got back onto the sidewalk, he could no longer see them. He had lost them. Muttering an oath, he looked around. He was now outside the Safeway store. Standing on tiptoe, he looked through the glass doors to try to pick them up.
He ran his hands through his hair. How could he lose them? No problem, he thought; they would have to go back to the office within the hour. He would return to the bus stop and wait there. Then confront them.
He returned to the street. Just before turning to go back to the bus stop, he glanced to his left. And saw them again. Now they both had an arm round the other’s waist. They had stopped and were going in somewhere. Matt walked briskly down the street, checking the premises to see which was the most likely one. After half a block he found a bar. The fascia was cream with green borders. He looked up at the sign: McGann’s Irish Pub. One of many hundred in Boston. He paused a moment, then went in.
The bar was quite full, as one would expect this time of day. He looked around, as his eyes started to get accustomed to the dim lighting. He looked round at the tables: all were occupied, but not by Ruth and her co-worker. There were around a dozen people sitting at the bar. Squinting, Matt looked down the backs of the customers there. At the end of the bar, he saw them. They had just been served: he had a glass of dark beer; Matt couldn’t make out what Ruth was drinking. She normally had white wine when they went out.
Matt walked up to them. As he got to six feet away, the man got up.
‘Sorry; bathroom, honey,’ he laughed, rubbing her shoulder. She put a hand up to her shoulder to touch his.
As he turned to go to the restroom he caught sight of Matt. A couple of seconds passed as he figured out why he recognised Matt. He opened his mouth to say something.
‘Very cosy,’ said Matt, sarcastically.
The man straightened up, keeping his hand on her shoulder.
Ruth turned round.
Chapter Twelve
Only it wasn’t Ruth.
Remarkably similar to be sure, but definitely not Matt’s wife.
The figure was
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