Saturday, October 30, 2004
She was sitting at the table and waiting for him to come home. Except he wasn't coming home.
Maybe the phone would ring.
He was in the Mac and maybe the phone would ring.
Out on the rigs while she was at the kitchen table sitting with an airplane bottle of Nassen Royale that she had made the trip especially for.
It had been 3 weeks. She wouldn't have even known it if he hadn't wrote the note. Gone. And now here she was again, sitting at the table next to a glass with a hole in it for 3 more weeks.
But tonight he might call. It was 19 days and today he should have been off. So he might call and that filled her with anticipation and each second with hope.
At least the kids were finally in bed she remembered and then she pulled the phone close and turned down the ringer.
He might call. 8 days on. 3 days off. It had been 19 days. Tonight he should have been off. And it was 19 days.
Not in 19 days.
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