Where the frigging hell is Sean?
Jennifer checked her watch yet again. Just before eight. He should have been home hours ago. She stopped fidgeting with her hair and picked up her wineglass. She swirled the jewel-coloured liquid, then gulped the last mouthful.
He said he would be home on time for once. She had asked him specifically. It was important, she told him.
“Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah. Whatever. I’ll be home on time,” was all he said.
And now, look at the time. He was almost three hours late. Friday traffic would never hold him up this long. If she didn’t know him better, she might be worried. She slammed the wineglass down on the table.
She had psyched herself up all day to talk to Sean. She had all the details planned. A special supper of salmon in a cream sauce — still healthy enough not to break her New Year’s resolution — and a good Pinot Noir. She did her hair and makeup, for once, to boost her confidence and she was wearing something other than her hoody and sweatpants. She also knew that it looked like she was trying too hard.
But this was a big deal, something she had thought long and hard about. She wanted a divorce. It was another of her New Year’s resolutions and she had taken extra time off after the Holidays, to talk to Sean about it and get things sorted right away. She had already chickened out twice, and today was her last real chance before going back to work on Monday.
But the extra waiting had played havoc with her nerves. She wound herself up and now she was angry. She got up from the table and took her plate and glass into the kitchen. The picked-over remains of her supper temporarily became the enemy as she dumped them into the garbage. She threw the cutlery into the dishwasher, stopping short of following suit with the dishes.
“This is just so typical!” She muttered as she cleaned up the mess. “Seriously, what the hell could be so damned important only two days into the New Year?”
She slammed cupboard doors and kitchen draws as she went, blowing off some of her pent-up frustration. Sean’s supper sat on the counter, cold and beginning to congeal. Jen considered dumping it along with hers, but thought better of it in the end. Wasting food went…