Love, Honor or Stray:. E.N. Joy
my hands,” was the vocal excuse Paige made for her inappropriate daydreams.
Only minutes before, her thoughts had been consumed with checking the clock every ten minutes. She’d stopped checking the pot roast more than an hour ago, once she realized its original heat could not be restored, especially after she’d removed it from the warming oven for fear it might dry out. It was now freezing cold as it sat in the middle of the dining room table. The Corningware could keep it warm but so long. It had already been sitting on the table close to two hours.
Two hours ago was when Paige had expected her new husband to walk through the door, but now here he was, walking through it two hours later with a bundle of “I’m Sorry” flowers he’d picked up from some twenty-four hour grocery store on his way home.
Well, Paige was sorry too. Sorry she’d spent the entire afternoon shopping for all the ingredients her mother had told her she needed to prepare the meal. Sorry she’d wasted $69.95 on a new lounging outfit in her husband’s favorite color of crimson. Thank God she hadn’t splurged for the matching clear house pumps with fur lining at the top. She was also sorry she’d spent the entire evening on the phone following her mother’s instructions on preparing the pot roast. But what she was most sorry for was that she’d waited up this long for her husband to join her for dinner—her husband who hadn’t even had the decency to call and tell her he would be late.
“I told you that you didn’t have to wait up for me, honey.” Blake glanced behind Paige and into the dining area after closing the door behind him and setting down his briefcase. He could see the spread on the table and the place settings. “Did you eat already?”
“Did I eat already?” Paige was trying her best not to get indignant. “I’ve been waiting for you…” She looked at the clock on the wall. “For two hours now.”
A puzzled look raced across his face. “But didn’t you get my message?”
“What message? I checked my cell phone repeatedly to see if I missed your call or something. There was no call and there was no message.”
“Well, maybe next time you might try checking the home phone.” He nodded toward the cordless phone that sat on the couch next to her. She’d kept it close just in case he had tried to call. He hadn’t—at least not to her knowledge. “I called earlier. You didn’t pick up, so I left a message.”
Paige picked up the phone and turned it on. Placing it to her ear, sure enough it made the beeping sound that it makes when someone has left a voice message. “But I’ve been home. I don’t know how or when I could have missed…” Her words trailed off when she thought about the couple of times she’d put the phone down while talking to her mother in order to retrieve an ingredient. The other line must have beeped then without her knowing.
“I think your other line was clicking when you had me on hold,” she recalled her mother saying. She’d forgotten all about it by the time they’d hung up, so she didn’t think to see if the missed caller had left a message.
“Anyway,” Blake continued, “I’m sorry, honey. And it looks as though you really went out of your way with tonight’s meal.”
“Well, I had the day off, so I wanted to spend it doing something for you.”
Blake felt bad. Paige could tell by the look on his face.
When her stomach grumbled, she said, “I suppose we could still have dinner. It probably won’t taste as good nuked, but I’m sure it will be appetizing nonetheless. It’s an old family recipe.”
Blake hesitated for a minute. “Actually, I already ate. That’s what I was telling you in my message. We had dinner with a client, Klyde and I.”
“Oh.” Now Paige was even more disappointed, but she didn’t want to show it. She didn’t want to be the angry black woman. Not yet. It was far too early in the marriage. But if Blake thought she was going to sit back and allow him to take her for granted, he had another thing coming.
“But hey, I can keep you company while you eat,” Blake suggested right before yawning and looking down at his watch. It was ten o’clock.
Trying to keep it together, Paige took a deep breath, then walked over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “That’s okay, honey. You’ve worked long and hard today. Go ahead and get your shower and go to bed. We’ll have it tomorrow. I’m sure it will still be just as tasty as leftovers.”
Blake smiled and moved in close to his wife. “That’s why I married you. You are so considerate and selfless. I love you, Mrs. Dickenson.”
Paige closed her eyes and leaned in to close the minute gap that was between her and her husband. She puckered her lips just as Blake puckered his. She waited to feel his soft lips touch her lips. Instead, they touched her forehead.
“See you upstairs, sweetheart,” Blake said before climbing the steps, headed for their bedroom, no doubt.
Paige stood there dumbfounded and confused. “What the heck just happened here?” she questioned herself, feeling slighted. She looked down at herself, donned in her new lounging outfit. Heading toward the dining room to put away the food, she covered as much of her upper body as she could with her arms. She hugged herself until she realized that if she was going to put away the food, she needed the use of her arms.
Slowly, Paige picked up her main dish and proceeded to put the food away. As she did, she almost subconsciously engaged in picking and eating away at the dinner. A hunk of pot roast. A potato. A roll. Another hunk of pot roast. Another roll, this time dipped in the roast’s gravy. A handful of carrots. More roast. Another handful of carrots with a couple of peas mixed in. Yes, that’s right, she was pecking away at the food with her hands while putting it away. She was gnawing away at the food the same way her husband’s neglect was gnawing away at her.
“Looks like leftovers will be out of the question,” Paige told herself as she turned off the kitchen lights. She belched and then headed for the stairs. Making her way up the steps, a part of her still felt that the night might not be a total bust. And she had a receipt for $69.95 plus tax that agreed with her.
Reaching the top landing of her steps, she adjusted her outfit and then entered her bedroom. The scent of Blake’s after shower smell-good lingered in the air. She felt her way through the dark room until she reached her bed. She climbed in and scooted close to Blake, prepared to consummate the marriage…again. Just as she went to whisper his name and put her arm around him, a loud snore almost scared her half to death.
She shook her head in pure disbelief. This night had turned out nothing like the way she had planned.
She flopped down on her side of the bed, her lips poked out. The pot roast may have gotten cold, but it seemed as though their bed had gotten even colder. If Blake kept this up, among all the other things she’d been sorry for that night, he’d better hope she wouldn’t be sorry she’d married him.
Paige pulled the covers up to her neck then let out another belch. Her husband may not have filled her up, but at least the pot roast had.
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