Displays of Despair

5

Deborah waits in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the windshield at her husband no more than a few yards away from the car. Shane looks up at her from the open field of grass, a small river flowing further past him as it glistens underneath the moonlight. The car's headlights are cast upon him, his frail figure illuminating an eerie silhouette from the other side of the stream. He shoots her a smile as he unfolds a plaid blanket and lays it out on the ground. Leaning down, he runs his hand along the fabric, making sure there are no creases whatsoever, before setting a large wicker basket perfectly in the center.

He stands up, his smile widening as he looks down at his work. The picnic looks like that out of a summer catalog, which is exactly what he was aiming for. But, suddenly, his eyes narrow and his smile quickly fades as he realizes that one thing is missing.

Roses.

"Stupid." He mumbles to himself unbelievably, biting his bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood, as he paces back and forth. Grabbing at his hair, he wonders how he could possibly miss a detail so vital. He even went to the flower shop yesterday just to get everything prepared ahead of time but forgot all about it when the babysitter arrived, leaving it at the house. And now everything is ruined. "How could you forget? Roses and vase. Roses and vase. Roses—"

Shane stops in his tracks, turning his attention back to the car parked behind him. His smile reappears as he steps forward to approach the car, an attempt not to look crazy in front of his wife. Although it may be a little late for that. Over and over he mumbles to himself under his breath, reminding him that this is second chance. "Don't screw it up, Shane. Don't screw it up, Shane. Don't screw it up."

Once he opens the passenger door, he shushes immediately and gazes down at his wife with an extended hand. His crooked teeth, perhaps in need of some serious brushing, are exposed through his parted lips.

A few minutes later, the two sit on the blanket on the riverbank. The headlights of the car are adjusted to the dim setting, thin shadows of their figures stretching out to the water's shore.

The basket is now open, its plush interior exposed as the two plates and bottle of wine sits between them. Shane's wine glass is near empty, and he's working on his third drink, however his wife's still remains untouched and is filled halfway to the rim. Same thing with the food. Although she hasn't taken a bite, he continues to scarf down his meal until there is nothing left.

He continues to make small talk throughout the date, but she doesn't respond. Instead, she sits stiffly with her legs crossed and arms dropped to her sides. He gets the strong vibe that part of her doesn't want to be there, yet at the same time he knows that—deep down—she wants everything to go back to the way it was just as much as he does.

"So, what about the kids?" He says, hoping that a more serious topic would reel her into the conversation. "I mean, you wouldn't really want to do that to them. Would you?"

The separation has been hard on both of them, even though it has only been for a couple of weeks. She still lets him come and use his equipment for work but, other than that, she doesn't want him anywhere near the house or the kids. That is, until he finally talked some sense into her the other night.

"Yeah. You're right." He says, taking her silence as an unspoken sign of agreeance. "They need their parents in their lives. Both of them."

Shane takes another bite from his sandwich, washing it down with a swig of wine. He turns to face her as he sets the glass back down on the blanket. "I'm glad you agree. We'll give this whole thing another shot. You, the kids... You guys mean the world to me. I would die if I ever lost you."

Still not saying a word,Deborah gazes at the water, seemingly black as it reflects off of the night sky, flowing past the small field as it winds through its narrow course. It slips out of sight as the rapids pull it downhill.