Everything We Always Were

Everything We Could Be: Home

I don't hear James leave, and he doesn't say goodbye. But he does text me, letting me know that he had taken a nap in his office, and overslept. That he was sorry for running out without saying goodbye, but that he was late.

I said it was okay, things happen.

He texted back to tell me that class tonight was going to be short and that he should be home before I go to bed tonight.

That thought lingers in the back of my mind for the rest of the evening, giving me something to look forward to as I finish making myself dinner.

Tonight, I had planned on rearranging one of my bookshelves. I have finished my weekly chores, and I needed something to distract myself from the boredom, as well as waiting for the response from the Washington Post about my article.

I settle into my desk chair, turn on my desktop computer, and click around on YouTube for something to watch while I eat. After finding something that I deem entertaining enough, I lean back, pulling my feet up onto the chair and my bowl against my chest.

The video is only halfway done when I finish eating, but I pause it anyway, slide my empty bowl onto my desk, and stand.

For the next two hours, I am standing or sitting in front of one of the sides of my bookshelves. Taking books off and putting them back on, adding new books, and moving old books to different shelves. I also managed to put aside 6 to donate.

It's 8 pm, so I decide to call it there for the night, although I will probably never be fully happy with my bookshelves, no matter how many times I change them.

Making my way downstairs, I regret leaving my slippers in the office. Outside the window, it's snowing again. And this time, it looks like it's going to stick. I flip the light switch for the kitchen and make my way to the fridge to find something quick to make before I go to bed.

Of course, I won't be going to sleep yet, since James should be home soon.

I settle on a frozen TV dinner that has probably been in the freezer for at least a month or two and stand by the microwave as it heats up, staring out the front window for James' headlights, that don't come.

After eating while leaning against the counter, I throw away my trash and make my rounds, making sure the door is locked and all the lights except the ones in the hallways are off. Heading up the stairs, I pause at his office door.

My hand drops onto the handle, and I pull it, but of course, it's locked.

With a subtle shake of my head, I go upstairs and change the lights over again, setting my laptop up on the bed next to me and crawling in.

When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I notice is that my laptop is blinking in my face. The battery symbol is red against a black screen.

I had fallen asleep watching a video before James got home.

Glancing at his side of the bed I rub my eyes. It looks untouched.

Sitting up, I'm barely awake and I can see that the sun is up through the curtains over the window. My phone is nearly dead but reads 9 am.

I slip out of bed, into my slippers next to the bed, and make my way downstairs.

"James?"

Turning the corner into the living room, it's empty. A blanket of white covers the front lawn and driveway outside the big bay window, with no tire tracks.

When I turn to go back into the kitchen, I notice that the hallway lights are still on.

On an initial survey, the kitchen looks empty and untouched as well.

But, after checking the basement and the upstairs one more time, I come back down. The living room is completely untouched, neither of us having used it since the night before last. But, when I look closer at the kitchen, I find the note.

I will come home to you.