in. She crunched happily, still tunelessly humming and kicking her bare toes against the island.
“Honey, I’m just going to go look for Christopher. Are you okay here?”
Peace crunched away, not looking bothered at all at being left alone. Liesel hesitated, but it wasn’t as though Peace was an infant. Besides, she wasn’t going to go far. Even if the little girl fell off the stool, Liesel would be close enough to get to her in half a minute.
“Okay,” Liesel said. “I’ll be right back.”
She found her husband where she’d expected to, feet up and reclining in the battered easy chair that had been his dad’s. All the other furniture they’d had before they got married had been replaced over the years, but Christopher refused to let go of this chair.
Liesel understood the sentiment. She held on to things, too. Ticket stubs, postcards, matchbooks. It wasn’t that she hated the chair, even though it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. What boggled her mind was how he could fall asleep in that dilapidated, uncomfortable relic while watching television, which was what he did a couple times a week. Usually she woke him before she went upstairs, and sometimes she stumbled down to the den with bleary eyes to shake him awake enough to spend the rest of a too-short night in bed, but last night he must’ve gotten out of bed after she fell asleep and come down here.
She found him with his eyes closed and mouth open, the TV tuned to some sports station showing something obscure, like curling. In the early-morning light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows they’d paid extra to put in, his face looked slack and disturbingly old. His hair was shaggier than he usually wore it, and Liesel caught a glimpse of silver in the blond. Liesel had never met Christopher’s father, who’d died young, just fifty, of a heart attack brought on by too many cigarettes and cheeseburgers. She’d seen pictures though, and her husband looked a lot like his dad.
For an instant, she froze. Fifty used to seem so old, but Christopher was only ten years away from that. Fewer years than they’d been married. He took care of himself better than his dad ever had. Didn’t smoke, worked out regularly, and aside from his addiction to cheese curls, didn’t indulge in fast food. There was no reason for Liesel to think she’d end up a young widow, but all at once it was all she could do to stop herself from running across the room and shaking him awake just to make sure he was still alive.
“Christopher,” she said in a low voice instead of shouting it the way she’d felt the sudden impulse to.
He startled awake in a way that would’ve been comical if this were a normal day. The recliner rocked as he flailed. Then he scrubbed at his face, letting out a sigh, and leaned forward to put his feet flat on the floor.
“Jesus,” he said. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost eight.”
“In the morning?” He looked disgusted and added a garbled sound of distaste as he stretched and winced.
His question didn’t require an answer other than “duh,” so she kept quiet. Christopher looked up at her, then past her. He sighed.
“Where are they?”
“Peace is in the kitchen. She woke me up a little while ago. She was hungry, so I’m giving her some breakfast. I guess Sunshine and Happy are still sleeping, the baby, too.”
Christopher sighed again and got up, his back snap, crackle, popping as he twisted it. His neck the same way. He had a monthly appointment with their chiropractor, courtesy of that recliner.
He blinked and used the heel of one hand to press against his eyes. “I need a shower.”
“Christopher,” Liesel said quietly and stopped, not sure of what she meant to say, just knowing there were a lot of words waiting to be spoken and not all of them nice.
“Not now, Liesel.”
“Now,” she said. “We have to talk about this now.”
He sat back heavily in the recliner and waved at the couch
“Honey, I’m just going to go look for Christopher. Are you okay here?”
Peace crunched away, not looking bothered at all at being left alone. Liesel hesitated, but it wasn’t as though Peace was an infant. Besides, she wasn’t going to go far. Even if the little girl fell off the stool, Liesel would be close enough to get to her in half a minute.
“Okay,” Liesel said. “I’ll be right back.”
She found her husband where she’d expected to, feet up and reclining in the battered easy chair that had been his dad’s. All the other furniture they’d had before they got married had been replaced over the years, but Christopher refused to let go of this chair.
Liesel understood the sentiment. She held on to things, too. Ticket stubs, postcards, matchbooks. It wasn’t that she hated the chair, even though it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. What boggled her mind was how he could fall asleep in that dilapidated, uncomfortable relic while watching television, which was what he did a couple times a week. Usually she woke him before she went upstairs, and sometimes she stumbled down to the den with bleary eyes to shake him awake enough to spend the rest of a too-short night in bed, but last night he must’ve gotten out of bed after she fell asleep and come down here.
She found him with his eyes closed and mouth open, the TV tuned to some sports station showing something obscure, like curling. In the early-morning light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows they’d paid extra to put in, his face looked slack and disturbingly old. His hair was shaggier than he usually wore it, and Liesel caught a glimpse of silver in the blond. Liesel had never met Christopher’s father, who’d died young, just fifty, of a heart attack brought on by too many cigarettes and cheeseburgers. She’d seen pictures though, and her husband looked a lot like his dad.
For an instant, she froze. Fifty used to seem so old, but Christopher was only ten years away from that. Fewer years than they’d been married. He took care of himself better than his dad ever had. Didn’t smoke, worked out regularly, and aside from his addiction to cheese curls, didn’t indulge in fast food. There was no reason for Liesel to think she’d end up a young widow, but all at once it was all she could do to stop herself from running across the room and shaking him awake just to make sure he was still alive.
“Christopher,” she said in a low voice instead of shouting it the way she’d felt the sudden impulse to.
He startled awake in a way that would’ve been comical if this were a normal day. The recliner rocked as he flailed. Then he scrubbed at his face, letting out a sigh, and leaned forward to put his feet flat on the floor.
“Jesus,” he said. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost eight.”
“In the morning?” He looked disgusted and added a garbled sound of distaste as he stretched and winced.
His question didn’t require an answer other than “duh,” so she kept quiet. Christopher looked up at her, then past her. He sighed.
“Where are they?”
“Peace is in the kitchen. She woke me up a little while ago. She was hungry, so I’m giving her some breakfast. I guess Sunshine and Happy are still sleeping, the baby, too.”
Christopher sighed again and got up, his back snap, crackle, popping as he twisted it. His neck the same way. He had a monthly appointment with their chiropractor, courtesy of that recliner.
He blinked and used the heel of one hand to press against his eyes. “I need a shower.”
“Christopher,” Liesel said quietly and stopped, not sure of what she meant to say, just knowing there were a lot of words waiting to be spoken and not all of them nice.
“Not now, Liesel.”
“Now,” she said. “We have to talk about this now.”
He sat back heavily in the recliner and waved at the couch
Similar Books
