Intentional Fallacy (Book 5)

Chapter 4

 It was snowy and school was canceled. Somehow Jeff had managed to drive to work anyway. I knew he'd likely stay overnight in the studio, I didn't know whose house that was a euphemism for. It was a relief to have him gone and have time by myself. Things were strained again, I was sure it was the subtle shift in my mood and behavior. He'd always sensed those sort of things and caused a near paralyzing fear of rejection in him. That was one of the things that had always kept me within that small range of behavior around him. The other was my own fear of his darker side. We'd become a finely tuned machine.

I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and picking at a piece of toast. I watched the heavy snowfall accumulate quickly as it can in Illinois. The forecast said it would snow for a few days, it was near blizzard conditions. It wouldn't be long before the phone lines were down and likely the electricity would go out too.

I stood and walked over to the phone. It was still the same old white phone we'd always had with its long chord that allowed me to move about the kitchen and living room while I conversed. How many conversations had I had with one of the kids or Joanie while cleaning the house, the receiver cradled on my shoulder. I looked at the clock. It was already nine thirty. I knew Jeff wasn't scheduled to teach until 11:00 and I was sure the classes at the art institute had been canceled too. I was sure the roads were nearly empty, the plows couldn't have made it through much and even if they had it was accumulating too quickly. I always had the fear that Jeff's sports car would swerve off the road in such icy conditions. No matter what the roads were like he navigated them as if he were on the autobahn. I called the studio but I didn't really expect him to pick up.

"This is Jeff."

"Hi. It's me."

"Hi." His tone was tender.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for how I've been towards you. It's not you."

"I know it's not. Things have been hard for you since Christmas."

I twirled the chord in between my fingers. "Can you come home?"
There was a silence. "Eve. The roads are bad. I'm going to have to stay here tonight."

"Oh." I picked up the pack of cigarettes from the counter and lit one.

He filled the pause while I inhaled a drag. "It's not what you're thinking."

I let out a stream of smoke, "I know."

"Really it isn't. I'm not with anyone else here."

"I'm just afraid. I don't know why." I could make out his low breaths. He seemed so far way.

"You'll be back to work next week and we'll get back into our routines. Everything is fine, Eve. Honestly."

I took a drag and nodded.

"All right?"

"yes."

"you'll be ok. I promise."

I knew what I wanted to do, but I left it outside of my consciousness. I didn't want to look at it directly; it was buried there in the basement. Her words. Her. I'd kept a photograph of her in a small frame in the den. I'd done it for Clara and Jeffery. It was inconspicuous amongst the other pictures, hidden more and more each year by the pictures of our own family experiences. She was there, her image anyway behind all of us. Margaret still frail depicted with hardly a smile in a faded black and white photograph while our family snapshots accumulated. We seemed spirited in bright color photographs. Her two children with me as their mother. They were a part of my family, not hers. It was as though she'd never existed.