Wish Upon A Sunset

Spilled Tea

Emma

One Week Before The Accident...

Zack would be home soon.

My stomach knotted up at that thought as I hurried my steps. I slid the cookie sheet filled with chicken into the preheated oven as I tried to tamp down the panic that had been my constant companion over the last ten months.

My motions were on autopilot as I moved about the spacious kitchen. I pulled the premixed garlic butter from the fridge and placed it next to the sourdough loaf that I had already sliced earlier. I took a second to pour some water into the teakettle and placed it on the stove to heat before turning back to the garlic spread.

Almost done preparing the bread, I heard the theme song to Paw Patrol come on in the living room and Tristan's off-key singing accompanied it. I rolled my eyes. My six-year-old son was absolutely in love with the cartoon.

I glanced over to my right and saw Grace playing in the dining room, content within her playpen and surrounded by her toys. Hearing her joyful laughter as she watched her brother dance to his favorite song brought a smile to my face and momentarily relieved the tension building up from my anxious thoughts.

The Paw Patrol theme song repeated itself over and over in my head, long after it ended, as the aroma of spices wafting from the oven filled the kitchen and I took a deep breath to savor the smell. This was what the therapist had told me to do all of those months ago. Focus on my senses. The smells, the sounds, and the sights would help keep me focused, she had said. I wished I hadn't had to stop seeing her.

What I would give to have someone to talk to.

I hummed the tune as I continued to prepare dinner. It was irritating how catchy they made these songs nowadays and yet, I was thankful for the distraction.

Despite finding their behavior cute, I became concerned about the increasing volume of my son's shouting as Grace joined in the laughter. I wondered how Zack would react when he returned home. He didn't like loud noises, and I had been working with my son to get into the habit of playing quieter.

"Tristan, baby, can you please stop making so much noise? We need to remember our indoor voices." I glanced into the living room before opening the fridge and pulling out a head of lettuce.

"But, Mommy, how can I be Marshall if I can't talk?"

I laughed a little to myself, despite the twisted knot in my stomach that seemed to be my constant companion nowadays. "I didn't say you can't talk. Let's just try to talk a little quieter, okay?"

"Okay." His mumbled answer wasn't happy, but all feelings of guilt disappeared instantly when I heard the sound of the garage door opening and a car arriving.

Zack was home.

My stomach automatically tightened with trepidation, and my heart rate increased. I found my hands shook a little as I unwrapped the lettuce and pulled apart the leaves to rinse inside the colander.

I despised feeling like this.

There was a time when I used to get excited when Zackary would come home. The butterflies would start and I would race to the front door to greet him, a smile on my face. I would see his answering smile as he walked up the porch steps and we would hug each other like we hadn't seen each other in years.

That's what I thought love was supposed to be.

But that had changed now, and it had been forever since I last felt that way. Now the butterflies were just lead weights of dread that settled heavily in the pit of my stomach and sometimes I wished he wouldn't come home at all.