Wood & Iron

Chapter 9

Three... Two... One...

Alex slowly pulled the lever down, closed her eyes, and waited for her favorite sound... that first drip of espresso hitting the bottom of the porcelain mug. The aroma, the taste, and the morning pick-me-up were only partially to blame for the obsession she'd developed over these past few years.

She loved the ritual of preparing coffee every bit as much as the taste of the final product. The measuring of the beans...the minute and a half it took her to hand grind those beans... the re-measuring of the grounds... pulling the perfect shot. There wasn't a piece of the process that could be rushed or skipped over, and Alex Wood loved every second of it.

It made sense. Alex loved a good routine. If a book had the word "habit" or "routine" in the title, there was a good chance that it was on her shelf and that its pages were filled with highlights and its margins with notes.

Books were about the only thing to be found on the shelves in Adam and Alex's living room, and that was mostly to blame for the other set of books, the ones with words like "simplicity" and "minimalism" on the cover.

It made her an excellent interior decorator, and an even better organizer. Her closet was clean, organized, and filled with only garments she absolutely loved and planned on keeping until the day she died. On the rare occasion that she found another piece to die for (and after making sure it was ethically sourced from farm to factory), she'd pick one to pass on to Morgan or Liv.

It made life better, for sure. But the real reason Alex obsessed, whether over her coffee, her clothes, or their Scandinavian-style living room furniture, was to curb the anxiety that had plagued her since the age of nine.

When she was a girl, she'd lay in bed at night replaying every interaction from the day, worried about who she'd offended or how that look on her face had been perceived by a classmate. High school brought no relief, and the three months that she and Adam broke up during her senior year pushed her over the edge.

The world hadn't yet put a spotlight on mental health, so when 12th grade Alexandra locked herself in her room for a week and a half amidst the worst panic attack she'd ever known, she scared her parents into heading to Barnes & Noble and scouring the therapy aisle for anything that might help. And while they hadn't entirely provided the cure that the titles promised, they had introduced her to the world of habit, routine, and ritual, which were her drugs of choice when it came to treating her ailments.

She'd brought those habits and routines into college, marriage, and parenting, but deep down, she'd always wondered if it was Adam that kept her centered. She'd never told him that. She didn't want him to live with that pressure. In fact, she'd never shared with him the horrors of those ten days locked in her room during senior year. He knew at a base level that she struggled with worry, but she used the rituals to keep the attacks, and any questions about how she was really doing, at bay.

Everyone knew about the routines, though. And if she were honest, she'd admit that she thought the routines were what people liked most about her. They'd kept her at the top of her class in college. They got her the job at Bend's premier interior design firm after graduation. And they were the reason her entire life... her house, her children, her family, were so well put together all the time.

And it was her love of routine that brought her favorite people to her door every morning for their morning coffee. She was steaming the oat milk for Liv's latte when she heard Adam call down from upstairs.

"Hey Al, will you throw an extra double shot in mine?"

He must be tired. She'd pretended to be asleep when he slipped into bed shortly after three this morning. His head hit the pillow, and the smell of the liquor on his breath made its way across the king-sized bed. As she lay there, her body facing away from her husband, she listened to the deep sighs coming from his lips.

Most nights had been this way recently. A year ago, they went to bed together every night at 10:30. It was one of her favorite routines, and had been since their oldest was born 11 years before. But now, she was going to bed alone. It had become a new ritual, and she hated it.

What she hated even more was the panic she felt while lying on the corner of the bed. Why is Adam drinking himself to sleep every night? She wished she knew the answer, yet the most likely possibility brought not relief.

"I think Adam knows."

She hadn't said those four words out loud yet, but she'd been rehearsing them every night while lying alone on the corner of that bed. And every night, as part of her new, awful routine, she told herself that she'd say them out loud the next day. But thus far, her habit had been to lose her courage before she'd made the sixth cup of morning coffee.

But this morning would be different. At least that's what she told herself. To be fair, she'd been telling herself that every morning for the past two weeks. But today would be different.

By the time Morgan slipped out the door with her oat milk latte at 8:01, Alex had convinced herself that today was actually the day she would speak the words aloud.

She began going through her sixth drink ritual of the morning: Quincy's mocha. It was at this point in the morning that her courage started to fade. Each day, her resolve waned as she pulled the lever slowly down on the manual espresso machine. By the time she was steaming the milk, it was gone.

But not today.

"I think Adam knows."

She mouthed the words as she poured the hot milk over the espresso, making a little heart with the foam on the top of the drink.

"I think Adam knows."

She mouthed them again, trying to beckon the bravery to finally say them out loud.

"Hey."

It was Quincy. 8:05. Just like always.

"Good morning," Alex replied without turning around, still putting the finishing touches on the latte art in his coffee. "Almost ready. Busy day today?"

"Oh, you know," he plopped down at one of the bar stools on the other side of the kitchen. "Pretty standard Tuesday. I don't have a meeting for a couple hours. You?"

"Shouldn't be too bad." The last two words came out slowly, as if speaking normally would increase her chances of spilling the coffee she was setting in front of him.

She leaned on the counter, smiling as she watched him take his first sip.

"Perfect." He licked the foam from his top lip and smiled back.

Alex and Quincy had known each other since elementary school. They'd graduated a year apart and had gone to the same college. Quincy was the best man in Adam and Alex's wedding, and Alex had been a bridesmaid the day Quincy and Morgan tied the knot. They'd been neighbors here on South Sister Circle for the past three years, and they'd spent every Friday night around the fire pit with their spouses and best friends. But when he smiled at her, something felt new. And it was the first new that Alex had felt in forever.

Not today, she thought. And she let the four words she knew she needed to say slip to the back of her mind.