nine .
He was a walking encyclopedia of idioms.
Expect the worst; hope for the best.
If he were with her now, he’d almost certainly suggest she take Northville south to Memorial Highway. Lyssa considered it for a moment, wavered. Although she was nowhere near as resolute in her mind as Ramon was, she was usually quick to assess her options and choose a safe path. Lately, though, she’d become tentative, unsure of herself. She’d grown to abhor changes to her routine, and even the slightest mishap often turned into the greatest distraction.
Before she could make a decision about the detour, she had missed the turnoff.
She grunted unhappily as she flew past the exit.
In the passenger seat beside her, the phantom Ramon sulked.
Well, there were other detours she could take. And if worse came to worse, she’d take side streets. Getting home quickly was what she needed to focus on.
She supposed it was fortuitous that they’d decided not to carpool today, though she knew it was just so much rationalizing. They hadn’t decided, Ramon had decided after she’d mentioned going to check on Drew, who hadn’t answered her phone calls. Carpooling today would probably have ended in one of them throwing the other out the door, no matter if the car was moving or not.
He’d been so short-tempered, ever since moving back in. Other hyphenated phrases came to her mind, just as descriptive: easily-provoked , thick-skulled , bull-headed . Other than the usual reasons, she couldn’t really understand why he was acting this way, and so the thought crossed her mind (more than once lately, in fact) that he might be having an affair. Instinctively, she dismissed the possibility as so much paranoia. Ramon wasn’t the cheating kind.
She sighed and flipped on her signal for the I-495 exchange. Traffic was still moving smoothly. Maybe the police activity near Medford had already cleared.
Before the pregnancy, they’d talked about buying a house closer to the research lab — somewhere in the nicer part of Yaphank, or possibly as far east as Manorville, despite its proximity to the Marine base at Riverhead — but she’d had a rough third trimester and the birth had been fraught with complications, so that everything had been put on hold. Poor Little Remy had pulled through the first night, but he never saw a second sunrise.
Now, two months later, it seemed their whole lives were being held in suspended animation: the new house, work, their marriage, the family. Even time itself seemed to have stopped. Lyssa just couldn’t seem to get past the pain of losing their son. And Ramon couldn’t seem to get past the idea that he’d have to properly mourn sooner or later.
She’d been the one to suggest the trial separation, a month after coming home from the hospital. This, after an especially bad fight had left poor Cassie terrorized, huddled and shivering in her bed with that rabbit of hers and the dog, which never left her side. How Ramon could possibly think the animals might help Lyssa get past the trauma was beyond comprehension. She needed time and patience in order to heal, not more things to take care of.
The fact that Ramon hadn’t argued with her about leaving, had gone right out and gotten an apartment in Medford the very next day, had hurt her even more than she’d been willing to admit. And while she tortured herself thinking about how he’d benefited from the shortened commute, she secretly knew he also suffered deeply. The distance prevented Cassie from staying with him overnight during the week. She knew he missed his daughter something terrible, and that offered a little guilty relief.
Lyssa had emotional problems, she knew it. Problems which would probably require professional help at some point. Rame had let it be known that he had serious concerns about her wellbeing, about her ability to cope after Remy’s death and her seeming unwillingness to fix their marriage. Hell, so did she. But she hadn’t expected
He was a walking encyclopedia of idioms.
Expect the worst; hope for the best.
If he were with her now, he’d almost certainly suggest she take Northville south to Memorial Highway. Lyssa considered it for a moment, wavered. Although she was nowhere near as resolute in her mind as Ramon was, she was usually quick to assess her options and choose a safe path. Lately, though, she’d become tentative, unsure of herself. She’d grown to abhor changes to her routine, and even the slightest mishap often turned into the greatest distraction.
Before she could make a decision about the detour, she had missed the turnoff.
She grunted unhappily as she flew past the exit.
In the passenger seat beside her, the phantom Ramon sulked.
Well, there were other detours she could take. And if worse came to worse, she’d take side streets. Getting home quickly was what she needed to focus on.
She supposed it was fortuitous that they’d decided not to carpool today, though she knew it was just so much rationalizing. They hadn’t decided, Ramon had decided after she’d mentioned going to check on Drew, who hadn’t answered her phone calls. Carpooling today would probably have ended in one of them throwing the other out the door, no matter if the car was moving or not.
He’d been so short-tempered, ever since moving back in. Other hyphenated phrases came to her mind, just as descriptive: easily-provoked , thick-skulled , bull-headed . Other than the usual reasons, she couldn’t really understand why he was acting this way, and so the thought crossed her mind (more than once lately, in fact) that he might be having an affair. Instinctively, she dismissed the possibility as so much paranoia. Ramon wasn’t the cheating kind.
She sighed and flipped on her signal for the I-495 exchange. Traffic was still moving smoothly. Maybe the police activity near Medford had already cleared.
Before the pregnancy, they’d talked about buying a house closer to the research lab — somewhere in the nicer part of Yaphank, or possibly as far east as Manorville, despite its proximity to the Marine base at Riverhead — but she’d had a rough third trimester and the birth had been fraught with complications, so that everything had been put on hold. Poor Little Remy had pulled through the first night, but he never saw a second sunrise.
Now, two months later, it seemed their whole lives were being held in suspended animation: the new house, work, their marriage, the family. Even time itself seemed to have stopped. Lyssa just couldn’t seem to get past the pain of losing their son. And Ramon couldn’t seem to get past the idea that he’d have to properly mourn sooner or later.
She’d been the one to suggest the trial separation, a month after coming home from the hospital. This, after an especially bad fight had left poor Cassie terrorized, huddled and shivering in her bed with that rabbit of hers and the dog, which never left her side. How Ramon could possibly think the animals might help Lyssa get past the trauma was beyond comprehension. She needed time and patience in order to heal, not more things to take care of.
The fact that Ramon hadn’t argued with her about leaving, had gone right out and gotten an apartment in Medford the very next day, had hurt her even more than she’d been willing to admit. And while she tortured herself thinking about how he’d benefited from the shortened commute, she secretly knew he also suffered deeply. The distance prevented Cassie from staying with him overnight during the week. She knew he missed his daughter something terrible, and that offered a little guilty relief.
Lyssa had emotional problems, she knew it. Problems which would probably require professional help at some point. Rame had let it be known that he had serious concerns about her wellbeing, about her ability to cope after Remy’s death and her seeming unwillingness to fix their marriage. Hell, so did she. But she hadn’t expected
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