Spring [Completed]

THIRTEEN

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HER

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dis•ap•point•ment

noun

1. sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one's hopes or expectations.

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I wish I was accustomed to the disappointment. I wish it didn't hurt when he lied to me. Above all, I wish that when he lied, I believed him. Because, this disbelief...this doubt...the mistrust I feel for my husband pains me more than his absence nowadays.

I shouldn't have been surprised when he texted that'd he'd be late to the Thanksgiving dinner that'd I'd been preparing since seven this morning. It shouldn't have fazed me that he would have to 'work late tonight' —obviously code for hooking up with some tramp instead of spending time with his family. That alone should be enough of a sign to know that he's lying. Who works on Thanksgiving?

The fact that he couldn't even come up with a decent enough excuse should illustrate the amount of respect he has for our relationship.

I laugh bitterly and watch as the wine I'm pouring splashes in it's glass. I don't stop until it's nearly at the brim, and even then I feel as if it's not enough. Turning my attention to the message on my phone, I purse my lips, not even bothering to answer the text. He couldn't even bother to call.

Pathetic tears splash the granite countertop as I wipe it with a towel, a futile attempt at avoiding my emotions. My heart pounds against my insides as I run a rough hand through my hair. Leaning against the counter, I let out a soft sob and close my eyes, forcing myself to think comforting thoughts.

Soon, as my eyes dry and my breathing calms, I find my mind drifting to places it shouldn't venture. I picture his warm and inviting smile, his kind, vibrant eyes. The premature grey hairs growing at his temples, no doubt from years of demanding labor. The slight stubble growing along his chiseled jaw...

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm texting him again and he's texting me back and I'm smiling from ear to ear. Ugh, why am I acting like such a schoolgirl? I shut off my phone and take a long sip of my wine. Closing my eyes, I sigh, completely content in this moment.

"Hey, Mom?" Demi says, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Demi giggles as she takes in my startled expression. "Sorry." She smiles, clearly anything but. "I just wanted to know when it's going to be time to eat? Because Gracie's family already had Thanksgiving dinner—"

"Well as a matter of fact." I smile, holding back a snide comment about Gracie's pretentious parents. "I was just about to call you guys down. Why don't you go get Cara and tell her to come join us?"

"Okay," Demi says, a toothy grin forming on her face. "Cara!" I hear her call as she turns the corner and races to her room.

Shaking my head, I tuck my phone away and grab a couple plates to set the table.

Soon, the three of us are seated at the dining table, an array of food ranging from cornbread to green beans surrounding us. Once we've all filled our plates, I stand, extending a hand toward each of my daughters.