Table or Booth?

The Wedding Pictures

Tom and Kara, newly wed twenty-somethings, had just come back from their honeymoon that day.  Bronson and Jan, neighbors and close friends drifted into reflection on their own marriage.  Life had changed so much since they tied the knot in the summer of 2000.
    "I never could've seen us like we are right now, you know?" Bronson asked rhetorically.   
    "What do you mean?
    "Nothin bad, it just seems we've come a long way.  I think I'm better about being open about things; communication, in general - don't you think?" 
    "Um hum," Jan nodded slightly, conceding just enough to be fair.  'Never give in completely' was another operational principle they both were trying to use less of lately.
    Bronson continued, "I wish we could give them some kind of magic pill to keep them from going through everything we've had to learn... the hard way."
     "I know what you mean," Jan replied, nodding with more acknowledgement this time.   "Like parenthood for instance.  It is such a joy but it's exhausting sometimes."
    "True."
    Jan had developed into a remarkably dedicated and loving mother since their 15-month-old son Matthew was born.  It took no time for her to get involved with other Moms.  It would be good for Matt's 'socialization'.  As a stay-at-home Mom, it was also for her own sanity. 
    Bronson had never met any of her Mom's Club friends but "Susan" and "Georgia" may as well have been old friends.  Their names had become standard household items.
    Jan changed the subject slightly.
    "You know, Georgia told me a freaky story at Matt's playgroup the other day.  She was saying how she would wake up with this nightmare where she would hear whispers in her baby monitor."
    "What were they about?"
    "She said that she heard whispers repeat ‘Georgia, we are going to take your baby...’ It would wake her up in a cold sweat.  Can you imagine that?"
    "Seems odd that they'd announce it, don't you think?"  Bronson replied with gentle sarcasm.  He couldn’t help being the logical analytic.  And it was a nightmare, afterall.  Nightmares weren’t real life, right?
    "Well she was sure freaked out.  It gives me the heeby-jeebies just thinking about it."
    "Yeah, not a fun thing to think about.  Does she still get them?"
    "The nightmares?  She says they happened only right after John was born. Probably hormones."
    “They sure make some noise don't they?"  Jan was back into her TV show now and missed the joke.  "Well, I’m exhausted.  I’m going to hit the sack.  You staying up for awhile?”  Branson asked.
    “Yeah," she started, a little distracted, "...this show is only another 15 minutes or so.”
    “Love you, babe.”  Bronson leaned over the couch, kissed her cheek and then embarked on his tired slog upstairs for the night.
    The recording of this conversation was playing in his mind as he rolled into the driveway late the next evening.  His arrival was methodical.  It never changed and, to him, felt like one nearly mindless act.  He got out of the car, taking roughly twenty three steps to front door.  Then, sliding his thumb over the two largest keys until it caught the one with the square edge, he separated it by sliding his thumb and forefinger apart, grasping only the key to the lower lock.  This was done without breaking the momentum gained in extracting the keys from his pocket.  It concluded when he slid the key, upside down, into the lock, turned the knob to the right, and pushed the door open.
    It was right then that it hit him.  A certain October coldness seemed to be saying quietly, "No one is home…” His casual consciousness was instantly swept with a chill.  In moment he stood motionless, speechless, and searching for a reasonable response.
    Matt is in bed, isn't he? He has to be, it's 8:36, he quizzed then answered hopefully.
    He stopped to listen for proof-of-life somewhere in the house. Not even a rustle. He scanned the main floor - no notes on the counter or the dining room table. Jan's cell phone was still sitting in the charger. For a second the word “abduction” creeped into his consciousness. Nah, that's ridiculous!  He chastised himself under his breath.  However, Jan would always leave notes. This wasn’t like her.  Still, nothing to be alarmed about quite yet, he thought.
    But emotions don't give up so easily.  His pulse quickened a bit.  The front door had been closed and locked when he'd arrived. Let's not think the worst here, he tried again to reassure himself.  Yet, each new breath came a little harder and more quickly than the one before.
    Then, without another thought, he launched himself up the stairs.  He skipped two steps at a time on his way up to Matt's room.  In one controlled rush of motion, he smoothly turned the knob and opened the door. "He's here!" almost burst out of his mouth.  There was Matt, safe and fast asleep.  Thank you, God! Mystery, part one, solved.  But where is Jan and why would she leave the house without calling or leaving even a note?  Questions were still coming faster than the answers.
    The flight up the stairs had his heart pumping even faster.  All senses and mental faculties had become fully engaged.  "Just doesn't make sense," he muttered softly, aloud, as he headed back downstairs.  After stopping for a second, he noticed the kitchen baby monitor, usually on the counter, was gone.  She took it and deliberately left the house! Now we’re getting somewhere, he thought for an instant.  "But she left the house with a sleeping baby?!" he asked, a little louder now, but still not enough to stir Matt.
    At first, this made him a little mad.  Then he remembered that he had actually been the one to suggest he and Jan take the monitor to Will and Becca's, their other neighbors, while Matt slept alone at their house.  It would be locked, the dog would be there,  and it was a townhouse.  In terms of distance, it would be closer than being in their own garage, he had reasoned then.  And, they would have the monitor.  They could respond instantly if anything should happen.  Jan abruptly shot the idea down.  Bronson conceded; always having someone present definitely seemed to be the right thing to do.
    Nevertheless, Jan was gone.  She must have taken the monitor with her; that much seemed obvious.  "How do I get ahold…?" he started to ask aloud before a flash of brilliance overtook him; “I’ve got it!”  He would go back to Matt's room and talk into the baby monitor microphone! If Jan had the monitor and was listening, then she'd realize he had come home from work and she would hurry back.
    More slowly this time, he stepped quietly upstairs, into Matt's room, leaned close to the monitor, and spoke just loud enough to be heard and not wake up Matt.  It came out in a whisper, "Jan, where are you?  I'm home."  Then he wondered, did she hear that?  He repeated it, whispering as loud as he dared being barely one foot away from Matt's crib, “Jan, were are you? I'm home, baby."
    Less than minute or two later the front door swung open.  It was Jan.  But the look in her eyes said all was not well.  It was as if she had just crossed paths with death itself.  She was still breathing heavily.
    "You scared the crap out of me!!"  She exclaimed with a combination of accusation and confession.  "You really scared Tom and Kara too!"
    At that moment, the full realization of what had just transpired hit him.  Jan had jumped half out of her mind when Georgia's ghost had come over the monitor speaker.  It was all too familiar; “Jan, where are you baby?” had sounded a little too much like “Georgia, we are taking your baby.”
    "What, the monitor thing?"  Bronson asked a little sheepishly.  He didn't want to scare her, just get her home and be sure everything was ok.  It had been such a good idea and, it got her home in a flash, didn't it?  Then, he wondered why he was justifying himself.
    "I didn't mean to scare you - it was best way I could think of to get your attention without leaving the house.  You didn't have your cell phone, you know?"
    "I was over at Tom and Kara's.  I had that thing two feet away from my ear, just in case.  We were just looking at the wedding pictures.  I wasn't over there for more than two minutes!" Jan explained, almost pleading.
    He thought this sounded odd coming from her but didn't bother to announce his analysis.  She seemed to be calming down a bit.  Her defense for leaving the house seemed to have the tone of an apology.
    "Yeah, I saw that," Bronson said, as an unconstrained grin broke across his face.
    "Don’t ever do that again!" she said, in a combination of subsiding fear and softening indignation. 
    He watched Jan slowly walk over to kitchen counter and plug in the monitor.  As he looked back at the TV, she flipped off the kitchen light and then made her way to stairs.
    “I’m going upstairs to take a bath.  You staying up for awhile?"
    “Yeah,” he said, his concentration already almost completely shifted, “...but I’ll be up soon; this show is only another 15 minutes or so.”

To Exit Quietly

I tried to exit the house quietly this morning.  It was, afterall, 5:30 am and not even Barley, our ever watchful black lab raised an eyebrow when I stepped out of bed.  In the cold Northern Virginia darkness of our townhome, I used my spatial memory to stealthily slip into the master bathroom, twisting the knob to open and close the door with careful precision, so as to avoid even the  slightest "click".  I slowly shut the bathroom door until it came flush against the door frame, careful not to cause a change in the air pressure - that could be just the thing needed to pop my slumbering wife out of her final subconscious moments of sleeping joy. 

My goal was to hear her tell me later that she never remembered me leaving the house.  Too many times, I thought I had achieved that only to hear how much of a clod and insensitive house-leaver I was.  I've got to get better at this, I thought.

After showering I continued to move with muscular control and precision around the bedroom getting dressed.  The only less than perfect execution of my operation, so far, was being forced to choose a completely random pair of socks to wear.  I had to avoid riskily flicking on the dresser lamp.  So, I picked a thin nylon pair in the hopes they were black.  It was worth the risk.  Even if I was wrong, my exit was still going well at this point.

Moving down the stairs to the main level of our house, still in sleepy darkness, I grabbed a frozen entre for lunch that day, popped the cell phone off the charger, threw on my winter coat, and hefted my work bag over my shoulder.  I paused for a moment.  All set. 

Walking to the front door now, oh wait; forgot the car keys!  So, I moved back to the key rack in the kitchen hallway and slipped the keys of the hook.  About this time it also occured to me that the house alarm was still set.  Sooo glad I remembered that.

With one last hurdle to leaving, I proceeded across the kitchen towards the alarm pad... SLAM, I rammed full force into a half-swung open baby gate!  Freeze now.  The whole house shuddered while the sound rocked off of every wall in the place.  Crap!!  Did that wake her up!??  I wondered and I hoped Matt, our 20 month old, hadn't begun stirring.  I really don't want my wife be forced to wake up at 5:45 to start a day that normally begins around 7:30 or 8, all because I needed to leave early today.  Darn it.  But let's not give up yet; maybe there's still a chance I can do this.   Maybe no one actually heard it.

I had just pressed the alarm code and finished rationalizing the last ounce of hope when I slipped my keys in the my pants pocket and headed for the door for the second time now.  This time I was careful to move the baby gate clearly out of the way.  HONK, HONK, HONK, HONK,... Wha... damn!!  My car's "panic" button was somehow pressed by the position of my keys in my pocket!  I frantically reach for my keys and search for the button to turn it off, pressing every button at least once.  Why can't  General Motors have thought of this when they made keyless remotes that year?  I despaired.

Well, that's it.  Matt is sure to have heard that.  My wife is sure to be cursing my barbaric inconsideration so finally, in defeat, I walk towards the front door.  Pathetically, I try to open it carefully, as if it mattered any more.  It was just about then a smile broke as I realized how stupid I'd been.  It occurred to me that my downstairs catastrophies might just have been avoided if I'd only have turned on a light!  The "turn on a light" metaphors were stampeding horses right then.

At last, I was outside.  I got into my car and pushed in the key, popped the transmission into neutral to slip out of the driveway, as far away from the house as possible, before I started the engine.  I turned the key and, without any engine-saving warmup, I put the transmission into "Drive" and pulled away.  I guess I'll have to find out later how it all went.  All I know now is; I tried to leave my house quietly this morning and all I have to show for it are these conspicuously blue socks.