Reprieve

041611

  I cushion the phone between my shoulder and ear as I continue to pack.
  “When will you be here?” she asks.
  “Look,” I say, folding my briefs and stacking them into a little tower in my suitcase, “this time tomorrow, we’ll be sleeping together.”
  I can hear her exclamation point over the airwaves. “Look at you, all cocksure.”
  “Not like that,” I proclaim.
  “You think that just because you’ve been away for a month I’m raring to jump your bones the minute you walk in the door?”
  “Shut up,” I say playfully. I take my laptop from the desk and slide it carefully into my shoulder bag.
  “You got your toothbrush?” she asks absently as she continues to engage in whatever distraction is distracting her. I think I can hear the nasal stylings of Ray Romano in the background, so my money is on late night re-runs.
  “Actually no, I would have forgotten that,” I say, darting into the bathroom and grabbing the toothbrush from the cup on the sink.
  “And bring me back some of that free stuff,” she continues. Dutifully I clasp a handful of freebies and… not so freebies.
  “And your razor?” she adds as I go to leave the bathroom again. I pause in the doorway.
  “I already got that,” I say as I go back and unplug it, wrapping its cord around itself and returning to my case.
  “Liar,” she says playfully. I grin my guilt and she laughs – at the sitcom I’m guessing. I finalize my packing and zip the suitcase up, struggling only slightly.
  “I miss you,” Maria says quietly, the roar of canned laughter in the background detracting from the moment only slightly.
  “Miss you too, babe,” I reply, “Kiss the kids for me. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

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~ by Joseph Blame on April 16, 2011.

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