“Hope?”  I called.  “I have your ‘puter.  Just a graphics card issue.  I had a spare, so no big deal.”

I stood for a moment waiting for a response and wondering if I should take my shoes off or not.  Finally, I heard her coming down the hardwood stairs.  My arm was beginning to fatigue from holding the computer in the crook of my arm.

“Hi Justin.  Thanks for bringing it over; it really wasn’t necessary.”  She was clearly trying to mask troubling emotions with a twisted concoction of casual gratitude and familiar friendship.  I noticed that both Hope and Amanda were not in their usual slob-Sunday attire.  I guessed that they went to church.  I added to that deduction how late in the afternoon it was and I projected a giant sign of Guilt onto the scene: Hope was obviously not the only one suffering the consequences of infidelity.   My ego began to rail against the reality that I was not in control of our escapade.  My mind spun through options of how to get this derailment back on track for just one run but Hope’s face tore it all apart.  It was over and I began demanding that I be grateful to finally have a lid on the anxiety....


Our family keeps a schedule that leaves the kitchen calendar busting at the seams, so there was not much food for the emotional turmoil brought on by what seemed to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity ejected into the ether.  Spring and summer strode by and our pumpkins were set aside to be carved for Halloween.

I was transferring dates from the paper calendar to my iPhone and noticed “H-PARTY” near the end of the month.  I cringed at the thought of enduring a long night at Hope and Frank’s trying not to think of what might have been.  Irritated, I called out, “When did THIS get announced?”

Katie was in the laundry room and couldn’t hear me clearly over the dryer.  “What, Honey?”

I waited until she appeared in the kitchen.  “This.”  I jabbed my finger at the last Saturday of the month.

Her expression reminded me of Alice Kramden when she was patiently dealing with one of Ralph’s ***** outbursts.  “I told you about it last week.  You don’t want to go?”

The ball was back in my court.  “It just seems like there is hardly time to come up for air.  Thanksgiving.  Christmas.  New Year’s.  Birthdays.  Seriously, it’s nuts.  Besides, I thought Frank was getting his knee worked over -- how is he supposed to host one of his ‘legendary extravaganzas’?  Does no one remember that I work on Sundays?”

“Nice of you to not include our anniversary in your chore list.  And it’s not at Hope and Frank’s.  Dan and Jill are having a toga party.  Take vacation on Sunday and please stop whining.”

My mouth opened and then shut.  “A toga party?  Like Animal House?  I’m not seeing it.  Well, Jill maybe -- but Dan?”

“I swear you don’t hear a word I say sometimes.  What’s wrong with Dan?”

“Nothing.  I mean, he’s a little... pedestrian for a toga party.” I had to grope to find the right word.

“That’s nice.  Did you not want to go?”  She was sounding exasperated.

“Heh, actually, this might be fun.”

Katie’s eyes narrowed and she stopped her self from saying something and ended it with, “I don’t wanna know.”