In a perfect world, when its late at night and the kids are bathed and in bed after dinner, the dishes are running through the rinse cycle while the broom and dust pan are just put away and the house smells of lemon cleanser as I finally sit and rest my feet, my husband would take a seat next to me and we would either watch T.V. or talk about our day over a couple of beers, or maybe a glass of wine while I am planning the rest of the weeks meals. The only stress in our lives would be after school activities, and weekend birthday parties.
I wouldnt be sitting alone, in a house built on sixty acres of land down an old dirt road, listening to the sound of the fireplace staring at my phone while the days headlines act as white noise from the television in the background. Maybe I wouldnt be flipping through social media, gawking at this girls photos or this families, wondering what it would be like if we actually had our own kids, while my husband Dane is on night three already this week of his guy nights in Jim Trahans man cave.
A shift on the couch beside me brings my attention away from my phone and to my 2 year old mixed breed wolf dog, whom ironically I just named Dog. Absentmindedly, I run my fingers through his coarse fur and exhale out my nose turning back to my phone to check the time, silently cursing Dane for his lack of respect to even call to let me know he was going to be so late, and myself for being the only twenty five year old woman who didnt mind staying at home most nights even if she did it alone.
I stand from the couch and walk to the window. My vision of the world is limited with the trees and bush surrounding our home and the rest of the property. I can barely make out a shape past the perimeter of light provided by our porch lamp and even with the moon light and barely a cloud, there would be no point in even trying. Out here if you're alone, you're really alone. I had no neighbor for three miles, and though we've never had problems with burgulars or thugs this far out, it would be hard not to let your imagination get the best of you with the dark looming trees and the eerie sounds that seem alot closer than they actually are. It would take a while for anyone to make it, had something actually occured.
A buzzing noise coming from the coffee table brings me back to the couch and I pick up my phone looking at my notifications, hoping to see a text from Dane explaining why "once again" he isnt home when he said he would be. Instead its a friend request from a guy named Nicholas Goodman.
I stare at the familiar name, squinting and chewing on the inside of my bottom lip.
"Nick Goodman.. Nick Goodman... where do I know that name?"
Only out of plain curiosity I accept the request and half heartedly glance at his profile. His actual profile picture was a close up of a twelve point buck someone had shot and his timeline had random pictures he either shared or had been tagged in. Going off of some of those I guessed he worked in the oil field, and spent most of his time out doors, fishing, hunting, or camping. The typical lifestlye of the folks around here I suppose. Mainly the single men.
Furthering my quest to determine if I actually knew this person, I scroll back up and click on his profile picture. While I waited for my slow speed wifi to load his album, Dog suddenly stands, simultaneously barking his warning of an approaching vehicle and I'm just startled enough to let out a tiny scream and jump from my position on the sofa, giving him a small glare and then a rub for doing his duty in the first place. He leans his big wolfish looking head into me and continues to bark as he ambles to the window,eager to lay eyes on our "intruder", as I then lock my phone and head towards the door. Peeking out the small window I see headlights and can tell my visitor is actually Dane finally returning home... that jackass.
Checking the time on the cable box has me rolling my eyes since its a couple of hours past midnight and this habit of his is becoming way to normal, yet I know, as usual, ill keep quiet about it and everything will go on as is. He will be happy and ill continue to silently torment myself on how I've allowed my life to end up like this. The boring wife of the outgoing Dane Hill.
