UNFORTUNATE NORMALCY

They sat across the table from one another. The cups of coffee still steamed, bittersweet, between them.

She was in her bathrobe, a fuzzy, ugly, pink thing that he’d bought for their first or second anniversary. Really, she hated it. Pink wasn’t her preference. She had wanted the green, but he’d decided on this monstrosity. But that was years ago and she’d grown into the habit of wearing it.

He was already dressed. His suit was perfect, neat and organized. Just like he was. He wore the tie their kids had given him for his birthday a couple years before. It was red. Odd, she hadn’t noticed how blue the little pinstripes were, a reminder of the history he’d studied about the mafia. It was a joke, a secret grin every time he wore it. Well, it had been when the kids were still at home.

“She graduates today,” she whispered and traced the hot glass with her fingertip, remembering the way it had felt like that against her skin the first time he’d kissed her.

“I know,” he tightened his tie and reached for the sugar. He always took his too sweet, all milky brown and sugar. There was more creamer in there than there was coffee.

“She wants you to be there,” her own coffee was black, with an addition of one table spoon of sugar, a sweet kiss on her lips as she always explained it to him when he made his face.

“I’ll try to be there,” he agreed. Their lives, once young with laughter and jokes, making love on the couch when the mood took them, had become boring. He had to think about the last time he’d touched her with the intention of seduction and romance. Right. Last month, right before that big dinner of hers, with her little black cocktail dress and the loose tendrils of her hair. She’d desisted and resisted, pulling her body away from him. She’d spent too much time getting ready for this to be ruined (ruined!) by the touch of her own husband.

“Did she send off her transcript?” she asked, her voice soft. Her voice was always soft, as though it physically ached to make it rise. Even when they fought, her voice was soft.

“As far as I know, did you sign for it?”

“I hope we didn’t have to,” her lips turned into a frown and his matched it.

The way she looked there, her hair already neat, but everything else messy and unprepared, reminded him of the way they used to be. Those days were gone. Sometimes, he wondered if his memories were just fantasies of something he never had a hope of achieving. One day he’d have to ask if she ever remembered the good old days. He just had to hope that she answered “Yes.”

Her nails ran together, soft pink acrylic things and she looked up at him, “I think I’m going to call the attorney tonight…”

“Is there anything in particular you want to take with you?” he responded and looked at her. At times, he wondered if she was having an affair. He wouldn’t admit it to anybody, but what he did some nights, when he was lonely and she was pulling her ice queen routine, would possibly constitute an affair.

“The kids are grown,” she smiled ironically. She was going to miss him, after twenty five years of marriage, now they were counting down the days until their children didn’t depend on them any longer, “But I’d like to keep my car and my laptop. I’ll sign it over to my name if you need me to.”

“The house is too big for just me,” he responded, “Are we going to sell?”

“Half for you, half for me?” They’d said that while they were dating, talking about ice cream and hot dogs, even the left over change.

“Sounds best.” Good to know she still remembered.

“I’ve been sleeping with the accountant,” she finally said and looked up at him, her hands tight around the body of her coffee mug.

He laughed, a loud belly laugh that shook his body. Oh, he laughed.

“So am I.”