A Night at Home

As night fell over Birchwood, the soft amber glows coming from the homes spoke of happy families and shared suppers. However, within the confines of Val's home, a different narrative played out.

As Val entered her home, an echoing quiet told her that neither Tom nor Travis was home.

Shaking off the solitude, Val navigated her way to the kitchen. With practiced hands, she began preparing dinner, filling the silence with the sounds of chopping, boiling, and frying. Once the meal was ready, she meticulously set the table for three. With everything in place, Val settled into her chair and waited, hoping that tonight wouldn't be another evening where the chairs opposite her remained vacant.

Time passed, and the darkness of the night filled the dining room, leaving only the outline of Val's silhouette visible. She knew she should probably just turn on a light but couldn't seem to force herself to rise from her seat. Part of her hoped Thomas would come home, see her sitting in the dark, and feel bad for her, give her some type of affection, or better yet, an apology. Val smiled as the fantasy played out in her head.

Suddenly, the front door flung open, and Travis charged in. With a flick of a switch, the room filled with light and revealed Val's unmoving figure at the table. Travis, off guard and startled, pulled out his cannon and drew down on her. Val, used to this kind of reaction from him, remained stoic, unfazed by the cannon in her face.

"Goddamn it, woman!" Travis exclaimed.

"I damn near burned a hole through you! What are you doing sitting here in the pitch-black?"

Before Val could reply, the familiar voice of Thomas echoed through the room. "Hey, sorry we're late. Travis, put that cannon down."

Grumbling, Travis holstered his weapon and stormed off to his room.

"Are you going to have some supper?" Val asked.

"No, we ate on the way home, so you can just throw that stuff out. I'm just gonna wash up and head to bed."

With that, Thomas retreated towards their bedroom, leaving Val alone at the table once again. With nothing else to do, Val finally allowed herself to do what she had been holding back from doing until her husband came home. Eat.

Later, in the sanctuary of their bedroom, Val donned a seductive nightgown as a silent plea for intimacy. Normally, Thomas was the one to initiate any type of intimacy, and Val, the ever-dutiful wife, would always accept him, but tonight Val decided she would take the initiative.

As Thomas walked in, she held her breath, waiting for him to notice, to appreciate her effort. But he was lost in his thoughts, seemingly oblivious to her. Without a second glance, he climbed into bed, creating a divide that felt wider than the few inches of mattress between them.

Undeterred, Val tried to bridge the gap, inching closer, seeking the comfort of his touch. Her hands gently glided over his chest to pull him closer, her breast pressed softly against his back, and her breath gently caressed the hairs on the back of his neck. She had never been this forward and hoped it would produce results. Yet, Thomas, either out of exhaustion or indifference, shrugged her off.

"Not tonight. I'm tired," he said.

The emotional distance, palpable and cold, weighed heavily on Val's heart. The longing in her eyes and actions went unnoticed. He didn't even turn to say it to her face, just kept his back to her like she wasn't worth the effort.

Val, tired of being ignored, decided she wouldn't just give up. Her hands found their courage again and began to hone in on his manhood.

"But it's been almost a month. I know you've been stressed; just let me-" she whispered.

"Damn it, Val, I said not tonight!" he said with authority. He threw her hands off of him and moved to the far edge of the bed, where he turned off the lights.

As the lights went out, so did any hopes Val had of mending the rift that had grown between them. She lay there silent as a cascade of thoughts rushed over her, interrupted by the resounding sound of Thomas's snoring, leaving the two lying there side by side but miles apart.