Small wounds over and over.
“The band is invited to Arizona. We’ll be on the radio. And I am trying to set up a recording.”
She keeps her eyes down. Tries not to hope. She has time, she could take time off. She has saved so much vacation, hoping. They would have to have someone stay with the kids.
“It’s going to be a great trip. I haven’t spent anything from the last big sale yet, been saving it for something like this. I was hoping we could record.”
She is wiping the counter slowly, over and over.
“That sale was amazing, just when I needed it. Debts paid and caught up.”
She works in the local government. Steady. It gives them health insurance. Secure retirement. Nothing spectacular. She turns to the sink, to rinse the cloth. The counter is clean enough. She isn’t going to think about it any more.
“That is great.” She tries not to hate the band. “At work–“
He is behind her and hugs her. “You are so great, here for me. We are going in three weeks. February. Perfect time for Arizona, I can’t wait for some sun.”
She tries to feel comforted by his hug and yields to it, as always. She is silent.
“Now make sure you don’t let the kids talk you into giving them too many things while we’re gone.”
He kisses her head. He lets go and gets his guitar and coat. “Have a good weekend. I have to practice.” He is headed for the trailer, in the next county, alone for the weekend, to immerse in music.
She turns and watches as he leaves.