lasagna. If we had people over
for dinner, which we used to do regularly until the last five years,
I always made lasagna and served it with a fresh leaf lettuce salad
and garlic bread. If we were attending an event where we were
required to bring a dish, it was always the lasagna.
As I stood staring into the
fridge, I realized I hadn’t made lasagna in a year. I was going to
have to get the ingredients for that the next time I went to the
grocery store, which would have to be soon given the contents of the
fridge. I decided to make scrambled eggs with grated cheddar. I drank
a glass of chardonnay while I scraped the eggs in the non-stick
skillet.
I settled in front of the TV with
my meal and was lucky to find Sleeping with the Enemy right after it
had started. I loved the beginning of that movie where Julia Roberts
outsmarts her abusive husband and fakes her own death. My heart
soared with victory as she made her way across the country wearing a
black wig.
I saved some eggs for Midnight
and put the plate on the floor for her to lick. She obliged. When she
had removed every semblance of food, she rubbed around my ankles
before jumping on the couch to join me.
Julia Roberts was painting the
kitchen cabinets in her new cottage by that time. I had seen the
movie many times, and my mind began to wander. I looked at the
heart-pine country mantle and remembered Jim in the garage, stripping
it of its chipped paint before he lovingly rubbed it with a honey
colored wax mixture and buffed it with a soft cloth. That was back
when Jim liked to do things with his hands. It hurt to look at the
mantle. I supposed I would be leaving it with the house when I moved.
I resented that I had to move,
but Jim had left me no choice. It would have been difficult enough to
stay in the home we had created together, but finding Jim in the
spare room with Kimberly had completely ruined the house for me.
I resented that Midnight would
have to make a move and become an indoor cat. She was ten years old
and used to going in and out. She had her favorite spots—a place on
the patio that got afternoon sun, underneath a privet bush near the
back fence, in the deep monkey grass so that I couldn’t even see
her.
Julia Roberts was visiting her
mother in the nursing home when I finally succumbed to sleep. In my
dream, I was walking—no floating—through the house. I floated
upstairs and looked into the spare bedroom. It was painted a sky blue
color and it had a new bed with a wrought iron headboard. I floated
to the master bedroom, which was painted a golden color. The bed,
which was on a different wall, had a plush golden comforter spread on
it. Downstairs, the couch in the den was a slate blue color and the
television was hung on the wall. Everything was different in the
house that I knew so well.
When I woke up at 3:47, I had
made my decision. I made a pot of coffee before turning on the TV. I
watched the entire previous season of “Dexter” I had missed due
to the chaos in my life. It was the only show Jim and I had watched
with any regularity.
At nine, I called the realtor.
“ I’m taking the house off the
market,” I told her. Complete silence on her end.
“ Look,” I said. “I’m
sorry about this. But I realized last night that I can’t handle a
move right now. When I decide to put it back on the market, I’ll
call you first, I promise.”
“ I’m a little stunned,”
Melissa finally said. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of
there.”
“ You’re right,” I said.
“But since I broke my foot and lost my job. . . .”
“ You lost your job?” Melissa
said.
“ Yes. They fired me. I’m just
not in a good position to move right now. And then there’s my cat.”
“ Your cat?” Melissa sounded
truly confused.
“ Yes, my cat. If I move right
now, her life will change completely and I don’t want to do that to
her.”
“ Okay,” Melissa said
uncertainly. “I’ll let the Danigers know it’s off the
for dinner, which we used to do regularly until the last five years,
I always made lasagna and served it with a fresh leaf lettuce salad
and garlic bread. If we were attending an event where we were
required to bring a dish, it was always the lasagna.
As I stood staring into the
fridge, I realized I hadn’t made lasagna in a year. I was going to
have to get the ingredients for that the next time I went to the
grocery store, which would have to be soon given the contents of the
fridge. I decided to make scrambled eggs with grated cheddar. I drank
a glass of chardonnay while I scraped the eggs in the non-stick
skillet.
I settled in front of the TV with
my meal and was lucky to find Sleeping with the Enemy right after it
had started. I loved the beginning of that movie where Julia Roberts
outsmarts her abusive husband and fakes her own death. My heart
soared with victory as she made her way across the country wearing a
black wig.
I saved some eggs for Midnight
and put the plate on the floor for her to lick. She obliged. When she
had removed every semblance of food, she rubbed around my ankles
before jumping on the couch to join me.
Julia Roberts was painting the
kitchen cabinets in her new cottage by that time. I had seen the
movie many times, and my mind began to wander. I looked at the
heart-pine country mantle and remembered Jim in the garage, stripping
it of its chipped paint before he lovingly rubbed it with a honey
colored wax mixture and buffed it with a soft cloth. That was back
when Jim liked to do things with his hands. It hurt to look at the
mantle. I supposed I would be leaving it with the house when I moved.
I resented that I had to move,
but Jim had left me no choice. It would have been difficult enough to
stay in the home we had created together, but finding Jim in the
spare room with Kimberly had completely ruined the house for me.
I resented that Midnight would
have to make a move and become an indoor cat. She was ten years old
and used to going in and out. She had her favorite spots—a place on
the patio that got afternoon sun, underneath a privet bush near the
back fence, in the deep monkey grass so that I couldn’t even see
her.
Julia Roberts was visiting her
mother in the nursing home when I finally succumbed to sleep. In my
dream, I was walking—no floating—through the house. I floated
upstairs and looked into the spare bedroom. It was painted a sky blue
color and it had a new bed with a wrought iron headboard. I floated
to the master bedroom, which was painted a golden color. The bed,
which was on a different wall, had a plush golden comforter spread on
it. Downstairs, the couch in the den was a slate blue color and the
television was hung on the wall. Everything was different in the
house that I knew so well.
When I woke up at 3:47, I had
made my decision. I made a pot of coffee before turning on the TV. I
watched the entire previous season of “Dexter” I had missed due
to the chaos in my life. It was the only show Jim and I had watched
with any regularity.
At nine, I called the realtor.
“ I’m taking the house off the
market,” I told her. Complete silence on her end.
“ Look,” I said. “I’m
sorry about this. But I realized last night that I can’t handle a
move right now. When I decide to put it back on the market, I’ll
call you first, I promise.”
“ I’m a little stunned,”
Melissa finally said. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of
there.”
“ You’re right,” I said.
“But since I broke my foot and lost my job. . . .”
“ You lost your job?” Melissa
said.
“ Yes. They fired me. I’m just
not in a good position to move right now. And then there’s my cat.”
“ Your cat?” Melissa sounded
truly confused.
“ Yes, my cat. If I move right
now, her life will change completely and I don’t want to do that to
her.”
“ Okay,” Melissa said
uncertainly. “I’ll let the Danigers know it’s off the
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