All in all, it was a very productive day.
Now, I am home, sitting in my favorite room in the house: The family room. Most people love the kitchen, but I could spend hours in our back room. Just off the kitchen, in the back of the house, is where we spend most of our nights, lounging on the couch and watching TV.
Painted a deep cocoa, the room is accented with floor-to-ceiling ivory curtains hanging from pewter rods with metal grommets.
In the center of the room is a brown leather couch and loveseat, set in an L-shape, with a small wooden side table between the two. In the center of the room is a wagon wheel coffee table that is usually covered with Jackson’s toys. All around the room are frames of various sizes with assorted pictures of my family, Gabriel’s family, us throughout the years, and quite a few new photos of Jackson.
At the far end of the room is a wood-burning fireplace with its original brickwork. I’d love to update it, but we haven’t had the budget to do renovations. To the side of the fireplace is a TV placed on a low wooden table. The room is small but homey. It’s where I can usually find my husband when he’s home.
Gabriel surprises me by coming home at a reasonable time tonight. After putting his briefcase down by the front door, he comes into the living room where Jackson and I are playing and gives each of us a kiss hello before marching straight upstairs. A few minutes later, he returns wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt with his iPod in his hands and earbuds in his ears.
Jackson and I watch as he jogs out the front door. Gabriel will run any time of day, but he prefers to go out when it is still light out.
I lift Jackson into my arms and head into the kitchen to make dinner. I have become the queen of the quick and easy meal. Tonight, we’re having baked tilapia with roasted vegetables, since it only takes twenty minutes.
I place Jackson in his highchair and take out plates and forks to set the table. Carmen fed the baby dinner before I came home, so I place Cheerios on his tray to occupy him while I finish setting the table.
The timer on the oven goes off and I remove the dinner and set it on top of the oven and wait for Gabriel to return so we can eat.
Twenty minutes later, Gabriel returns. His shirt sticks to his chest from the sweat he accumulated on his run and his hair is sticking up a little on the sides.
“I’ll be right back,” he shouts over the music only he can hear from his iPod. “Shower,” he states while running up the stairs.
Am I annoyed at him still for last night? Yes. Am I perturbed as all hell he’s been home for forty minutes and has yet to truly acknowledge us? Yes.
Am I going to let it ruin my night? No.
I stare back at Jackson, who I swear gives me a little shrug as if to say, “What are you gonna do?”
I shake my head and shrug right back at him. He returns my shrug with a rub of the eyes. Poor kid has to be in bed soon. Looks like we’re forgoing the bath.
Another fifteen minutes goes by before Gabriel reappears. He lifts Jackson out of his highchair and places him on his lap while I get up to serve the now cold fish. I would heat it up, but part of me wants to leave it the way it is just to make a point.
My point is lost because Gabriel eats it up and doesn’t say a word. Instead, he talks to me about how the front porch light is out and he has to change it.
I nod and tell him my mother left a voicemail that she wants to come back for a visit in a few weeks.
He nods back and turns his attention to Jackson, telling him about the different types of fish you can find in the Atlantic Ocean.
When dinner is over, Gabriel takes Jackson upstairs to bed while I clean up the kitchen.
When he comes back down, he finds me in the living room, seated on the loveseat with two glasses of wine poured and placed on the coffee table. He walks around the large sofa and takes a seat in the middle of it.
He looks down at the wine on the table. “For me?” he asks while grabbing one of the glasses and taking a large gulp.
Gabriel lifts the remote control and turns on the TV. I watch as he changes the channel to the Marlins game, already in the third inning. Leaning back into the cushions, he takes another sip of wine and settles in for six innings of baseball.
I lean forward and stare at him for a few minutes, his eyes mesmerized by the screen in front of him. It’s quite comical how distracted men become when there is a sporting event on.
He catches me staring and motions toward the TV. “The Marlins are playing the Mets. I thought you’d be excited.”
It’s my favorite team verses his favorite team. I love watching this series with him, but I wasn’t expecting him to be home to watch it with me today.
“Slow day at the office?” I ask.
Not taking his eyes off the screen, he answers, “I left early so we could watch the game.”
It’s a charming gesture, but I’m surprised. “How come you could leave early today to watch a baseball game, but you couldn’t leave early to take me to the museum?”
Gabriel catches the tone in my voice and looks over at me. His eyebrows curve in. “That was completely different.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh and put my glass down on the table. “It’s very convenient that you’re available to watch a game with me that you happen to love too, but you can’t get out of work to take me to an exhibit we both know you had no interest in going to in the first place.”
Gabriel shifts his weight and places his wine glass on the table next to him. His eyes turn serious as he appraises the situation. “Why are you picking a fight?”
I hate when he does this. I voice my opinion about something and because he doesn’t want to hear about it, I’m the irrational one for bringing it up.
“I’m not picking a fight. I’m having a conversation.”
“You’re trying to argue about something when we should be spending time together.”
He’s right. I should be sitting back and playfully bantering with him about our favorite teams playing each other, but my feelings are hurt.
“Gabe, I’ve barely seen you in the last two weeks. I’m sorry if I don’t want to spend what little time we have together watching TV.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I work way too long and way too hard to do this with you right now. You want me home? I’m home. And tonight I’m sitting right here and watching the game.” His voice is harsh and unapologetic. He turns away from me, giving all his attention to the TV, completely removing me from his line of vision.
Like an insolent child, I stomp my feet and march out of the room. I slam the door to our bedroom and wait for him to follow me to argue. I tear off my clothes and put on pajamas. Climbing into to bed, I tear back the covers and sit up against the headboard with my arms crossed. I stare at the door and wait for him to come in.
But he doesn’t. I don’t even hear footsteps. Just the faint sound of the ballgame downstairs in the living room.
Looks like I’ve “cut off my nose to spite my face,” as my mother would say. I never understood that expression, but I know it’s what I just did. With too much pride to go downstairs, I turn on our TV in the bedroom and watch the game from the comfort of my pillow.
Stupid husband.
I watch the game well into the seventh inning, when my eyes grow very heavy and I slowly start to drift.
My body jerks awake. The room is dark. The TV is turned off, and Gabriel is next to me, sound asleep. I glance over at the clock. It’s just after four in the morning. Jackson didn’t wake up tonight. That’s good.
I lower my head back to the pillow to settle back to sleep when I remember what it was that startled me awake.
I had a dream.
I dreamed of him again.
We were at the museum, standing in the lobby where we were just two days ago. Instead of him disappearing, like he did that night, he held out his hand to me. I looked down at it for a mere second before placing my hand in his. He pulled me toward him, but not into his arms. Asher took my hand and led me out of the lobby and through the front entrance where a black Escalade was waiting for us on the sidewalk. I looked at the open door and when I looked inside, everything inside was black.