Fireflies at Midnight

NINE 9

Every light in the house was off, save for the porch light. It spilled into the living room and kitchen ever so slightly. Kathy's car still wasn't in the driveway. Not that Evelyn was praying she'd come home anytime soon.

She searches around, trying to spot Eric. Her feet scoot slightly around the floor, it was a little freaky being in here at night. No lights, no way to see. She bumps her knee into the table, muttering a small fuck as she reaches down to rub it.

Every molecule of air around her shifts. She can hear faint steps, looking around desperately to see where it's coming from. Evelyn continues walking, stopping just before the threshold of the kitchen.

There he is, sitting at the island with a beer in hand. Not much can be seen except the side of his face and his hand. That fucking wedding ring, shining bright. Evelyn almost rolls her eyes, but stops as she inches closer.

The seat next to him is open, as are the other 3 seats but none were as close as this one. She climbs into the bar stool, spinning it around to face forward.

From here she can see their bedroom door. It hasn't budged, it hasn't creaked to alert anyone it's being opened. Surely, one of them would hear it if it had been. She watches it closely, making sure to know when to run out the door.

He pushes an unopened beer to Evelyn. She accepts, wrapping her fingers around the lip and tugging hard. It won't open, not for her. And even though she's persistent and tries again, it's without effect.

Eric grabs it hastily, popping it off without a second thought and handing it back to her. She felt like a child, filled with embarrassment that a damn beer bottle lid was too stout for her.

When she tries to stay something, anything, to break the silence, it fails. There's nothing that comes from her mouth, not even a sound from her throat. Dead air floats around them save for the hum of an air unit outside and ticking of clocks.

It's rhythmic as Eric clenches and unclenches his jaw. Evelyn watches closely, not ashamed that in the last 5 minutes, she hasn't looked away from him once. She's waiting, like a puppy who was promised a treat. But she wasn't promised anything except for a hard time with the situation.

She watches as he quaffs down the remainder of the beer, tossing it in the bin that sits just at the end against the island. Eric stands up, hands planted firmly against the marble. His head is drooped down, but Evelyn can see the chewing of his jaw.

When she reaches for her beer, she's stopped by Eric's hand. He grabs the beer himself, taking a drink and grabbing her by the wrist. She's shocked, not knowing what to say or do.

Looking down, Evelyn notices her feet aren't keeping up. She stumbles, gaining her balance and skips a step within five seconds. At this point, she's not walking, she's being dragged.

Across the remainder of the kitchen floor, down the small hallway with equally as many pictures as the other. There's a door to her left, the bathroom she assumed, as she was pushed into the adjacent room.

There's only a small candle lit, barely shining big enough to see half of the room. This was their room. Drapes over the windows, a king size bed to her right and a full body mirror sit catty-corner to her left. PIctures and home decor scattered the walls, however Evelyn couldn't see well enough to make them out.

If anything, Evelyn was thankful she couldn't. In the midst of anxiety she's currently experiencing, her mind is trying to ramble. Think about anything other than the situation she's in now. It's stopped as Eric shuts the door, a resounding click as the knob is locked.

This was it. The end of the escapade. It was innocent, for the most part, the actions that they'd partook in beforehand. They could still stop, run back to their lovers and live the same way they were before. Misery, boredom, satisfaction dwindling just below where their fingertips could grasp it.