Wednesday and Thursday pass in similar fashion. I get home from work first, then Jodie later. Both of us are hauling big loads of stress.
The usual political crap is going on at my office, worsened by the approaching retreat. Profits are down for the third quarter in a row, and the finger pointing is getting worse. Factions are forming up, and it doesn’t seem possible to remain ‘above it all.’ I’ve apparently been identified with the anti-CEO crowd. I’m not exactly sure how that happened, only that certain people are friendlier these days and others more stand-offish. Rumors abound like poisonous insects.
Jodie is working on a “monster case” that is absorbing much of her law firm’s resources. It’s a big hassle for her, but also a major opportunity. Whatever else happens, though, she’s getting away for the weekend, she vows. She’s bugging out early on Friday and heading direct to the lake for two days of R&R while I endure the corporate retreat at another lake farther south.
I’m not entirely pleased with the prospect of Jodie’s trip. I think of the long, dark drive, the deserted forest area around the house, the distant neighbors, the howling of dogs and loons. Then I think of the shotguns secured in their safe. Jodie knows how to use them; she’s a better skeet shooter than I am, actually. And there’s the little 9mm automatic she totes in her purse like a fashion accessory – just thinking of it makes me feel better about her solo journey.
But there’s that horrid apparition out in the water. A shotgun wouldn’t be of much use against that.
It’s my personal bogey man, though. It can’t harm her ... I’m certain. I want to tell her about it but can’t. It’s another barrier between us. There are way too many barriers now – jobs, schedules, the children I want and she doesn’t, personal tastes, politics. I don’t care about politics, why have they become part of our relationship?
Things are drifting away from right under my nose. I’ve been too wrapped up in nonessentials to grasp this. That specter in the lake has really opened my eye to the important things in life ... maybe I should be grateful to it.
I feel a desperate burst of love for Jodie as she sleeps beside me, the moonlight dappling on her nude body through the curtains.
I must reach out to her – as soon as this terrible weekend is over, when she’s more relaxed and I’ve finally got the corporate retreat albatross off my neck. Sunday night we’ll drink martinis together, or wine coolers is she prefers; we’ll talk about us and what we mean to each other. We’ll rekindle our love. Maybe a professional counselor after that – whatever it takes.
Jodie is the most important thing in my world. I can’t bear the thought of losing her. I’ve already slid down into the divorce swamp once before; it won’t happen again!
At night, the thing in the lake tries to barge into my dreams, but the warm presence of Jodie at my side keeps it at bay.