Not him and not me. My love hasn’t burnt out, but the passion has, and the passion can easily be reignited, right? Consider this meal kindle to our prospective fire.
As if the table wasn’t decorat ed enough, I have gone all out on my own attire. Wearing a delicate gold dress that fits snug to my chest and waist before flowing softly to my knees, I feel immensely overdressed. My hair has been coiffed into neat curls and I’m wearing more makeup than necessary considering how I intend on staying in. But, the dress is a favorite of Reid’s and I can’t wait to feel his appreciation.
The night has been ticking by slowly and altho ugh Reid doesn’t know the reason behind my incessant checking, he is finally able to tell me that he is on his way home. I feel a slither of butterflies in my empty stomach as I remove the food from the oven and place the salad on the table. I pour us some wine and wait patiently.
And then impatiently.
I have finished my glass and I’m ready for another when Reid finally opens the door. I’m retrieving the bottle from the fridge when he tosses a look my way. He’s having a heated conversation on the phone and I can practically feel the aggravation emanating from him. He mouths two minutes somewhat apologetically before rushing through to his office and slamming the door.
Well, that wasn’t the reaction that I was hoping for.
He didn’t acknowledge the candles on the decorated dining table, his eyes didn’t wander over my specifically chosen dress and he didn’t even falter at the smell of my painstakingly prepared meal.
I bite back the hurt and take a seat with my second glass of wine. Instructing myself not to take anything from his insensitive arrival I wait...
and wait...
and wait.
An hour later and the food is stone cold. The candles have lost their romance; their flickering only encouraging my annoyance. Sade’s smooth voice grates on me like grit against my overly moisturized skin. My outfit feels desperate and ridiculous. Everything has been ruined. I try not to see it as symbolic but the inner drama queen in me is too loud and too brash to ignore.
The conversation emitting from behind the apartment wall sounds far from over. How long am I expected to sit here and wait? Pah. I won’t wait. Not anymore. After downing the remaining wine from my glass I throw a coat over my arm and grab my purse, purposefully neglecting to throw in my phone as I fly out the door.
I don’t know what le ads me here; my feet, my heart or my need for a stiff drink, but I end up at The Nest . It’s oddly quiet, quieter than I was prepared for. I had hoped to slip into the usual bustling crowd and fester in my frustration in private. That’s not going to happen. Veda clocks me as soon as I walk in. I must have ‘pathetic’ stamped across my forehead because with one look she assesses that a Corona will not be enough for me tonight.
“Tequila?” she asks, already reaching for the bottle.
“Eugh. I love you.”
“I thought you said you were going to shy away from the booze for a little while?” she says, smiling teasingly at my inability to follow through with anything.
“Yeah well, that was before I realized what an ass I’m married to.” I regret my over keen admittance immediately so I shake my head at Veda when she opens her mouth to respond. She dutifully closes it and fills my shot glass. I tip it all the way back, wincing at the taste and subsequent burn.
“You want to come out with us next week?” Veda asks, re-adjusting a Kirby-grip in her choppy red hair.
“Really?”
“Yeah , Nile and I have made Tuesdays our Friday night. We never get to enjoy weekends anymore,” she says, but I know how much she enjoys working here. When she smiles sweetly I want to jump across the bar and hug her. Why couldn’t I have met her months ago, before I became so bored and bitter?
“I’d really like that.” I attempt to smile. I try really hard, I do, but a scowl seems to have
As if the table wasn’t decorat ed enough, I have gone all out on my own attire. Wearing a delicate gold dress that fits snug to my chest and waist before flowing softly to my knees, I feel immensely overdressed. My hair has been coiffed into neat curls and I’m wearing more makeup than necessary considering how I intend on staying in. But, the dress is a favorite of Reid’s and I can’t wait to feel his appreciation.
The night has been ticking by slowly and altho ugh Reid doesn’t know the reason behind my incessant checking, he is finally able to tell me that he is on his way home. I feel a slither of butterflies in my empty stomach as I remove the food from the oven and place the salad on the table. I pour us some wine and wait patiently.
And then impatiently.
I have finished my glass and I’m ready for another when Reid finally opens the door. I’m retrieving the bottle from the fridge when he tosses a look my way. He’s having a heated conversation on the phone and I can practically feel the aggravation emanating from him. He mouths two minutes somewhat apologetically before rushing through to his office and slamming the door.
Well, that wasn’t the reaction that I was hoping for.
He didn’t acknowledge the candles on the decorated dining table, his eyes didn’t wander over my specifically chosen dress and he didn’t even falter at the smell of my painstakingly prepared meal.
I bite back the hurt and take a seat with my second glass of wine. Instructing myself not to take anything from his insensitive arrival I wait...
and wait...
and wait.
An hour later and the food is stone cold. The candles have lost their romance; their flickering only encouraging my annoyance. Sade’s smooth voice grates on me like grit against my overly moisturized skin. My outfit feels desperate and ridiculous. Everything has been ruined. I try not to see it as symbolic but the inner drama queen in me is too loud and too brash to ignore.
The conversation emitting from behind the apartment wall sounds far from over. How long am I expected to sit here and wait? Pah. I won’t wait. Not anymore. After downing the remaining wine from my glass I throw a coat over my arm and grab my purse, purposefully neglecting to throw in my phone as I fly out the door.
I don’t know what le ads me here; my feet, my heart or my need for a stiff drink, but I end up at The Nest . It’s oddly quiet, quieter than I was prepared for. I had hoped to slip into the usual bustling crowd and fester in my frustration in private. That’s not going to happen. Veda clocks me as soon as I walk in. I must have ‘pathetic’ stamped across my forehead because with one look she assesses that a Corona will not be enough for me tonight.
“Tequila?” she asks, already reaching for the bottle.
“Eugh. I love you.”
“I thought you said you were going to shy away from the booze for a little while?” she says, smiling teasingly at my inability to follow through with anything.
“Yeah well, that was before I realized what an ass I’m married to.” I regret my over keen admittance immediately so I shake my head at Veda when she opens her mouth to respond. She dutifully closes it and fills my shot glass. I tip it all the way back, wincing at the taste and subsequent burn.
“You want to come out with us next week?” Veda asks, re-adjusting a Kirby-grip in her choppy red hair.
“Really?”
“Yeah , Nile and I have made Tuesdays our Friday night. We never get to enjoy weekends anymore,” she says, but I know how much she enjoys working here. When she smiles sweetly I want to jump across the bar and hug her. Why couldn’t I have met her months ago, before I became so bored and bitter?
“I’d really like that.” I attempt to smile. I try really hard, I do, but a scowl seems to have
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