WATCHING   THE   WAVES

    Sophie heard a car engine and clasped her hands in her lap.  That would be the cab bringing Derek back. 

    She should go to him.   She shut her eyes so tightly they hurt and stayed seated on the low back couch.  The next minutes would determine the rest of her life.  She couldn’t bring herself to face them.

    The rusted hinge on the front door squeaked.  Heels scraped against the wooden floor of the hall.  That scrape of heels was now the plodding steps of Derek’s walk. Sophie opened her eyes as his tanned hand clutched the plaster archway to the living room.  She hadn’t thought she’d made a sound yet he’d found her.

    Another step brought him across the threshold.  He carried the scent of the cool, crisp Autumn day.  The wind had tossed his dark hair.  The unkempt look made him more handsome.

     He entered no farther but stood with his fingertips gripping the white wainscoting.  Their first time in the house, she’d gazed at that wainscoting.

     “Someone has taken great care with these walls,” she’d said softly.

    The house was a tiny two bedroom bungalow in an old neighborhood.  More than they could afford with the bank loans on Derek’s ad agency.  But he’d seen her look of longing as she’d stared at the walls.  He knew her history.  She’d grown up living out of a suitcase while her mother flitted from relationship to relationship. A house . . . brick that had stood for ninety years, would stand for generations.  Roots.  Permanence.  She’d been too scared to believe she could ever have them, but Derek had been so sure.  They’d made an offer on the house on the spot.

    “I’ll spare you the medical shit.”

    Derek’s voice startled her from her thoughts.

# # #

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