Loyal to the end

Loyal To The End

    Oh man, he’s late! Oh man, he’s late! Dang it, where is he? Where can he be? Usually, he is home by now and we are sitting on the couch watching our favorite show.

    I know that I am sounding a little paranoid about it, but I have been cooped up in this house the entire day by myself and just about to go crazy if I don’t get some company soon. Why can’t every day be like Saturday or Sunday? We get to see each other the whole day and have the opportunity to share our love.

    Is that him? . . . oh yes, finally.

    Stupid wind. I hate it when it blows that hard and rattles the garage door.

    Hmmm? I wonder why he is late? Usually, even if I am busy with chores, he will call and at least leave a message on the machine. 

    There was that time about a month ago when he was late because he stopped to help an elderly woman change a flat tire. I am sure it is something like that. He is always helping other people. He is always saying, “The sole reason we are put on this Earth is to help people.” Ya, that’s gotta be it. I just so badly want to feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around me. There is no better feeling.

    How many times are they going to show this commercial? I can’t sit here any longer. I know he usually does it around this time, so I think I will help him and go water the grass.

    The moment I push the door, I hear that sound again. Hesitating for a spell, I wait to make sure that it is the actual garage door opening and not that blasted wind that often encircles our neighborhood.

    The sound is lasting longer and is more systematic like that of a machine or motor and I know for sure that this time my love is finally home.

    As the creaking sound of the door to the inside of the house signaled his arrival, I couldn’t resist. I missed him, wanted to be with him, and wanted him to hold me.

    At first, I race towards him . . . and pause as I draw nearer. There is a strange odor about him. Some different scent I have never smelled.

    His head is lowered as he approaches closer to where I wait to feel those loving arms around me. The nearer he gets, the stench upon him becomes stronger.

    I am not sure how to react. The smell is totally gross at first, but intrigued by it, I step forward.

    Forward into arms wide open.

    Though I wanted to construe the devilish odor that entered my nostrils as I approached him, having those arms wrapped around my slender body is really all I wanted. So, thrusting myself upon him, we embraced.

    The best thing I have felt all day.

    Within seconds, every ache that I have felt with taking care of our house during the day faded in an instant. Every empty moment without someone to consort, left my being with that one solid, long lasting embrace.

    Whispering softly into my ear, he said, “I love you, Abby.”

    I wanted to return his loving gesture, but that awful, intriguing smell became unbearable. I had to know. 

    I felt bad for whiffing the way that I did at first. I didn’t want him to feel as if I suspected that anything was not the norm, but the putrid, yet sweet combination compelled me to investigate.

    The putrid was easy to determine. He had been working on the field. A combination of sweat, dirt, more sweat, and grass. 

    The sweet upset me. Something that I only smell on her. Briskly, I removed myself from him.

    Actions that immediately caused a reply, “Don’t worry, hun. A woman’s car ran out of gas and I gave her a ride to a station.”

    I sighed heavily in relief. “Pretty bad, huh. My truck smells even worse.”

    His truck is covered with the putrid smell and laughing as I reenter his arms I tell him, “Welcome home. I love you, too.”

    My stomach begins to growl and I take his hand and lead him to the dinner table. I know that he is surely hungry as well. Dinner should have been hours ago. 

    Since the day that our love began, he had always eaten in the exact same way. Telling me every time, “Dinner is time to eat . . . not talk.” I think he got that imbedded into him as a middle child of seven that had to fight for every morsel. 

    I have always respected his beliefs and merely ate speechless as we sat across from one another. Besides, it was my favorite meal and I was starving, so didn’t feel like speaking much either. There will be plenty of time for that later.

    He insisted on doing the dishes when we finished, so I went and prepared the couch for our nightly tradition of watching our favorite shows. By far, the best time of every single weekday. 

    As he sat to join me, I moved in closer to cuddle with him. The smell was not as bad as it was before. We both seemed to just get used to it. 

    He placed his arm around me and together we sat and watched our show.

    During commercial breaks, we talked about each other’s day. Clearly, the conversation was typically one sided. There’s really not much to share on my end. I would relay the same things that I do every day, which is not only boring, but typically takes less than the time a commercial set lasts.

    Though he was not much of a ‘talker’ himself, he would share some of the things that took place at work. He teaches and coaches at a high school pretty close to where we live. Most of what he would say would simply reflect on what had happened during the day. Most of the time, they were the ‘same ‘ol, same ‘ol’ stuff that routinely takes place in the classroom or the field. Every once in awhile, there would be a story of a fight between students, a funny tale of an event that happened in class, or, my favorite, interesting observations of the many animals that visit the field each day.

    You could tell that today was a difficult one for him. Whenever his eyelids slowly start to close in the middle of his favorite show, the day was rough and exhausting. 

    It was still too early to go to bed, however, and he got up and walked outside for some fresh air. I followed him. I, too, was getting a little bored just sitting on the couch.

    Once outside, we sat on swing together. His head was lowered. Something must have happened today that has him a little depressed. In attempts to show my man that I support him, I placed my hand upon his knee.

    He lifted his head and smiled at me. It was a warm smile that in its own little way said “Thank you”.

    We then shared a moment just looking into one another’s eyes. It was strange, but I could sense that there was something heavy on his mind as we looked at one another. 

    He, as well, seemed to be doing the same to me.

    But, what could he sense? There is nothing pressing in my life what-so-ever.

    His eyes squint as if he is trying to read my mind through my eyes. It makes me a little nervous, so I look away. I look at him again and he is still doing it. One thought, and one thought only, begins to encompass my every thought, ‘Can he?’ Some people are born with such gifts. Is it possible that he knows that I am hiding something from him. Something personal that I have done or seen? 

    My thoughts whirl as I look away again. His stare is so deep and I am starting to get scared. 

    Questions on top of other questions pop in and out of my head as I look to him, away from him, to him, and away again. This is really making me nervous.

    Does he know that my days aren’t really as boring as I lead them out to be? Does he know that sometimes chores are not being completed because of other things that happen in this house during the day while he is away? Has he figured it all out by some clue that I mistakenly did not cover up?

    As they continue to come in and out while intermittently looking at him and away over and over, I wonder the big question - Will he find out?  Will it end the days of love?

    Thoughts I couldn’t take anymore. Politely, I excused myself and walked back inside the house. So many things going through my head as I did.

    While he stayed outside and rocked to and fro while looking at the stars, I was freaking out inside. Both in the house and inside myself. If I tell him, I will surely lose him. If I don’t, I will have to continue living with the fact that I am hiding something from him. Something he should know. Something that shows my loyalty to him.

    Pacing around the house took on a whole different meaning. I kid you not, I felt like one of those experimental mice running through a maze in search of cheese. The only difference was that I knew exactly where the cheese was hidden, but wasn’t sure if it was the right time to find it.

    With all that was going on, I grew tired. Exhausted, really, both physically and mentally, and decided to go to bed. I couldn’t do it to him now. I love him too much.

    Exhausted or not, I could not sleep. Tossing and turning, with those same questions running through my head, the realization that I wouldn’t be sleeping this night became obvious.

    It was real late when I decided to get up and get some water. My pipes were burning some, and I really wanted to see why he had still not come to bed. Trying the best that I could, I pretended like nothing had happened. I walked to the refrigerator and took out the jug and began to gulp the water down. Looking at him while I did.

    He had passed out on the porch swing. Knowing that whenever he does this that it was best to just let him stay, I grabbed a blanket that I had lying on the floor and went outside to cover him.

    The extremely loud snoring clearly signified that he was out for the rest of the night.

    Now, not only will I be awake all night thinking that he may have an idea of what I am hiding, but won’t have him near to feel the warmth of what love may still remain.

    The fact that he did not return inside and come to bed, totally informs me that he knows. He had only not come to bed once since our love began. A late night party where something else consumed him and caused him to wet the bed. Embarrassed, he slept on the couch.

    Obviously, this was different. He did not want to come to bed and rest next to someone that has broken their trust.

    Daylight flickered through window blinds and readily caused me to spring from the bed. Rushing to an arcadia door that led outside, I rushed through it to see my love. Sadly, he was not there. I had missed, most likely, the last opportunity to feel the warmth of his arms around me.

    It was already about 8:00 a.m. judging by the sun outside, and I knew that he was already off to work. Dropping my head and dreading the fact that I had to live with my secret the rest of the day, I headed back inside to continue my daily routine.

    What the heck was that? A very strange sound rang and rattled the whole neighborhood. I would like to relate what it sounded like, but it really is something that I have never heard. 

    I immediately rushed to the front of the house and peered out the window; nothing. Raced to the East side, and again; nothing. It had to be happening on the West side. When I got to the son’s window, I saw him.

    Unbeknownst to me, my love had taken off the day to get some things done around the outside of the house. Heavily, I sighed that the sound was nothing serious and that, perhaps, I wouldn’t have to hold this thing inside me the rest of the day.

    Done yet? C’mon? What are you doing? It looks fine. C’mon already? It is getting close to lunch time.

    I was going nuts. I had to tell him. I read once that if you really love someone or something sometimes you have to let them go.  What is best for a person is sometimes all that really matters.

    And, after seeing the depressed look in his eyes the night before, I knew that no matter how much I loved him, I still had to show my loyalty to him, even if it costs losing him for the rest of my life.

    Finally, when the sun was directly above me, he came inside.

    He walked towards the refrigerator and started to pull out some lunchmeat to make his lunch. Yes, I should’ve stopped him that instant, pulled him aside, and tell him, but this was always an exciting time during the weekends when we were both home. 

    Unlike dinners, where conversation was looked down upon, lunches were totally different.  He would share his meal with me. It was amazing.

    I let him prepare his lunch and waited for him to go and sit on the couch. I even ran out into the garage and got him a dinner tray so that he could eat and watch a little television.

    As he sat down, I took one last opportunity to feel his warmth. He wrapped his arm around me when I approached him. A clear signal that he had forgotten about all that happened last night. I took in every single second; knowing that it could be my last.

    He may have had forgotten, but it has been twisting my insides every single second since the time I realized that he may know.

    “I love you.” I say while flopping off the couch.

    He doesn’t really pay much attention to my actions. I know that there is still a lot on his mind. Hopefully, soon, I can take it all away . . . no matter what the cost.

    While turning the corner, I directly head to the location of what I need to gather. It is difficult to open at first. An old drawer made by his father that has definitely taken a lot of damage throughout the years with moving from one location to another. After a few tugs, it loosens and opens.

    I know exactly where it was placed. In between the guy with the long nose with a bird on it and four young teenagers dressed totally weird inside a library.  To make sure, I look at the image on the front. Yep, that is it – a pretty good looking guy lifting a pretty teenager above his head.  

    Even though I know it could be the end, I grab it and rush to his side. 

    At first, he pays no attention to my actions. He looks at me blankly like he wants nothing to do with me.

    I have lost him. 

    With love and hesitation, I place it on his lap. 

    “I don’t have time for this Abby. I want to get this done before dinner.”

    He still cares. He still wants to have the time we share. He still loves me. Maybe I have blown this way out of proportion. Maybe he wasn’t reading my mind and just wanting to stare into my beautiful eyes, and end his horrible day lost in complete thought of just me.

    Too late.

    He opens the case and without even looking at the DVD inside it, opens the player and puts it in. Saying as he does, “Ok, honey. I think I can spare an hour or so.” And pats on the couch next to him a signal for me to come join him.

    Instead, I back myself into the closest corner I can find. An action he pays no attention to at all. It no longer matters. I no longer matter. It is over.

    Sounds of human bliss echo off of silent walls. He bows his head in disgust. Stands up and walks to the nearest wall. From it, he rips off an 8X10 photo and throws it against the floor.

    The next thing I know, he is in another room. Afraid to approach him I stay still, afraid.  Afraid what he might do to me. 

    It is clear from the sounds what is going on. He is packing things into a suitcase. He is leaving me. 

    I don’t blame him. Such a cruel way to find out that someone has been cheating on him. But, I love him and loyal to the end.

   He grabs his stuff and before walking out grabs something with a familiar sound. I get a little excited, but not sure if I should act on the excitement. Until he walks with it towards me.

   With leash in hand, he proclaims, “Come on Abby! Let’s get out of here. I knew she was up to something.”

    Before leaping into his putrid smelling truck, he signifies his ultimate love towards me by patting me on my backside and saying, “That’s my dog! You did good girl!”

    And, as I panted and wagged my tail, proud that I was loyal to the end, I looked into his eyes. The look of worry and depression was no longer prevalent. A warm and smiling gleam radiated as a new life began.