The Writer's Cramp 6/9/21 W/C 339
All That will Never Be
The walk down the dripping street on a foggy night led straight to trouble. She was waiting for me in the tiny house at the end of the stones.
“Why are you so late?” Julie whispered as I walked in.
I was delayed, it couldn’t be helped. “Sorry, business.”
“I’d planned to go out, but now it’s almost time for bed. Mark, you’re so inconsiderate. Thanks a lot.” She slammed the door on the way to our bedroom.
Nightly routines were so tiresome. I gathered my work and settled in for a spell.
That dog kept barking, a car screeched around the corner. I woke on the couch, papers askew. Time to join Julie.
Children and Julie woke at dawn. I straggled to the table. We made our way through breakfast. Then off again.
Work, work, work. Then the walk down the dripping street on another foggy night. She waited for me in our tiny house, again.
“What are you doing coming in so late? I wanted to go out. Now I have to go to bed. Thanks a lot.” Julie slammed the bedroom door again.
Work called my name. I sat with the papers. The dog barked, a truck rumbled through town.
Sleep, wake, sleep, wake, work, walk, regret. Every day the same.
I ran down the wet street. The stars were out tonight. The tiny house shone like a beacon.
“You’re early. Why are you so early?” Julie surprised me at the door.
“I wanted more time with you. Let’s order pizza, watch a movie. I don’t have to work tonight.” My briefcase clattered on the table.
A strange person entered our living room, some man.
“Um, well, I can explain. This is Mark. He was just leaving.” Julie moved toward the man. She put her hand on his arm.
“Oh really?” A split-second decision. All I could think was ‘all that will never be’.
“Let me show you both the way out,” I stated as I shepherded Mark and Julie out the door.