Catharsis

FIVE

When I cross the bridge and hit Main Street, the buildings begin to crowd in against the two-lane road. Our house is a stone's throw from downtown. It's the white vintage craftsman on the corner of Norway Lane and Pinecone Drive. The one that Sammy has decked out like one of those home reno shows she watches all the time; though not quite as sterile. She's exactly who I want to spend my life with. The girl-next-door who crushed on me in high school unbeknownst to me. Aside from passing her in the hall, we never interacted because she was too nervous to approach me. Unfathomable given how outspoken she is now. Not that I was a catch in high school.

But Sammy, she went to college when I didn't. I think it was fate that she lived at an apartment at Woodland Estates while she was in college. And it was my stupid decision to skip out on any secondary education that had me working there on the clog in her sink. I don't regret it, though, her curly hair still gets everywhere.

As I pull up to our house, I'm naturally led to everything that's going to happen here. My kids will climb that oak tree in the front yard after I marry Sammy and settle down here in Minocqua. That's the kind of life I want. Something simple and fulfilling. But Dad won't be here for any of it. He won't even be here to meet his grandkids.

I grab the mail at the end of the driveway then park my car and carry the stack of envelopes inside to the kitchen counter. Bills, bills, more bills. Electric bill, cell phone bill, internet bill. And a magazine for Sammy.

That's when I catch a glimpse of her through the living room window, fresh off of work, making her way up the driveway. She reaches the front door then stops to toss back her blonde curls and adjust her pale pink leather jacket before entering. When she sees me standing here, she jolts a little bit. Looking me up and down, the shock seems to melt off her face.

"Nice hair!" Sammy gives her signature bubbly laugh.

As if my priority the past three weeks has been on styling the train wreck on my head. I nod sleepily. "It's that windblown look that's popular right now."

"Well, I like it!" She exclaims but shakes her head "no" at the same time.

"Sue me."

Walking into the kitchen, she places her purse and jingling keys on the dark granite countertop then begins combing through a stack of mail.

"Why are you back so early?" she asks and pulls the magazine from the pile: the one with the fancy pictures of food.

"Jonah is taking over the last couple hours."

"Good. At least someone can get you to come home and give yourself a rest."

I grab a Leinenkugel's out of the fridge and screw off the cap. Tsss. I love that sound. "How was work?"

"Extremely dull," Sammy answers with a sigh and flips through her magazine, the thin glossy pages snapping as she does so. "I did bed checks a couple of times but otherwise it was all computer stuff. I am so done with night shifts. The paperwork is never-ending."

I lean against the counter and take a sip out of the amber bottle. "Yeah, tell me about it." The beer runs crisp down my throat.

She kicks off her shoes and leaves them in the middle of the kitchen. It is one of those bad habits that I always have to be reminding her about, but badgering her works as well as badgering me about leaving trash in my car.

"You look horrible. Are you okay?" She turns toward me, her hands fall gently on my shoulders as she peers up with her intense, blue eyes. They're the kind of eyes that can probably see my deepest, darkest secrets. Like the fact that I really want to pop a sedative and clonk out right now.