Another Time, Another Place

“Come on,” he begged, “don’t be like that. After all, it was only a pillow.”

Ariel rolled to her back, ignored his words once more and stared at the light fixture on the ceiling.

“You sound ridiculous,” Ariel responded after a long moment of silence. “It didn’t matter to you that it was only my finger. You reacted as though you caught me fucking another man. How fair is that?”

“I know,” he spoke with a softer tone. “I overreacted and I’m very sorry.”

“Truthfully,” Ariel replied as she turned to look at him for the first time. “That was the second time in seven months you’ve apologized for striking me. Well, the first time, shame on you. The second time, shame on me. A third time isn’t going to happen. I’m not sticking around for that.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“It’s Saturday morning. Monday, I’m speaking with a divorce attorney.”

“You can’t be serious,” Steven said a little animated. “You weren’t hit hard at all with a pillow.”

“So typical of a man, you attempt to justify a wrong by placing it on a grading scale. Striking me is wrong whether or not it’s with your fist or with a pillow. I’d be a fool to sit here and wait for the next time bomb to explode.”

Steven sat up, rested his back on the headboard, turned and gazed at his wife.

“I promise you on my life that I’ll never abuse you mentally or physically again,” Steven said slowly and concisely.

“If I recall correctly, wasn’t it your mother’s life you swore on the last time?”

Touché, Steven thought.

He was about to continue rationalizing why Ariel should reconsider her view when the “You’ve got mail” announcement floated through the air. Ariel jumped up, her naked frame seemed to glide on air. Their disturbing conversation didn’t prevent Steven from admiring and thinking what a wonderful ass she had. Ariel left the bedroom; she had concealed what Steven deemed her greatest asset with a robe.

Moments later, she discovered the email notification was a communiqué from her office. The odd part was that she had never received a business email over the weekend before. She became alarmed with the subject matter of the email entitled “Presentation.” She read the one-paragraph note that told her to rethink her approach.

“Rethink my approach,” she said aloud.

Her mind drifted back to the presentation that she gave to a new client and fearful realizations surfaced like a submarine on a fast ascent. Ariel crossed her arms on the desk, leaned forward and rested her head on her arms. She took a deep breath to combat the mild case of depression that was suddenly consuming her. According to the email, she had Saturday and Sunday to put together a presentation that would rock the client’s world. The exact approach eluded her, yet she sat for hours at the computer researching various products. Her result was a desk full of various white papers, but the best approach for her client still eluded her. Her eyes ached and at this point she experienced information overload and couldn’t read another line of text on the flat-screen monitor. She left the home office and walked by the family room where Steven was watching TV. Ariel tussled through the pots and pans to begin dinner. Steven told her that he’d already ordered Chinese food and that it should be delivered shortly.

“Besides,” Steven spo

ke softly into her ear after leaving the lazy boy recliner, “the rain has picked up again and the roar of thunder is getting louder by the minute. Another major storm is heading our way. It’s too messy to go out, and just in case the lights fail, I thought it would be nice to have food delivered. See,” he said, proud of a small accomplishment, “I have placed candles on the table already.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Ariel replied.

But, Steven’s thoughtfulness hadn’t lessened her anger. She understood the time away from the kitchen was a diversion to allow time to formulate a strategic presentation.

SEVEN

As far back as April could remember she had enjoyed watching the brilliance of violent storms. She recalled her mother forcing her to get away from the window as a child. She sat at the kitchen table nursing a glass of burgundy wine. Virgil was placing the leftover Chinese food into containers. He’d had food delivered as an attempt to calm her because while they ate breakfast, he sensed that his wife was troubled even though she neglected to share her true thoughts. He was happy with himself because April really seemed to enjoy the General Tso’s chicken and hot and sour soup that he presented her.

April listened to the rain increase its dance on the windowpanes. It soothed and relaxed her more than her husband could understand. The sound of the rain coupled with the visual splatter of each raindrop on the panes was downright hypnotic. As she’d done many times before, she sat in the bow window with her knees pulled to her breasts. Her arms were wrapped around her legs holding them in place. She stared at the storm intently. Each flash of lightning was followed by a clap of thunder that increased in volume. April became lost inside a place only a lucky few can find. The flashes of light were like exploding bombs that streaked across the sky. Each burst of light gave her a multi-paneled view of her reflection. Oddly, she thought about the thunder from down under, but she knew it wasn’t the answer to her being satisfied.

“Are you going to storm gaze all night again?” she vaguely heard but didn’t respond.

April jumped; she was startled when Virgil placed his arms around her from the rear. She was mildly disappointed that he disturbed her solitude.

“Your butt is going to fall asleep if you sit here too long,” Virgil joked. “You should come to bed early,” he said with a devilish tone.

“Not tonight, honey,” April responded without removing her gaze from the bow window. “The storm will help me relax and have a comfortable sleep. It worked last night. I slept soundly once I did fall asleep. I just want to watch it until my eyes get heavy.”

“Okay, don’t come running to bed scared when the storm gets closer to us. I’m not going to be used as your pillar of strength,” Virgil joked.

“I’ll be fine, dear.”