Word Count: 590
She thought it’d be best to first try it out, see if she really could live without him. She locked him up in the pantry they used as a wine cellar down in the basement. By that evening she realized that had been a mistake when she needed a nice Burgundy to go with her steak.
It took three days before she could really get the feeling of being alone in the house. It took him that long to settle in and keep quiet. She’d brought down a sleeping bag and his pillow, some books and extra light bulbs to read them by. She left enough food and water if he rationed it out so there really was no reason to fuss. She’d even thought of a portable potty though of course, there was nowhere to empty it out. But she’d put some ammonia, a sponge and some large plastic bags on the shelf.
She cooked herself dinners she hadn’t had in a very long time. Things that he hated like kidneys and tacos and quiche. She fell asleep faster, slept through the night–once he quieted down. She noticed the house always looked clean though she wasn’t vacuuming and picking things up off the floor almost continually as she usually did. She slept with the windows wide open. Kept the back door to the garden open all day. Sat at the table facing the sun in the morning, in the chair he long ago claimed.
It was nice, she decided. Pleasant. No fighting over who wanted to watch what on TV. No cold water showers. The toilet seat always ready and down. She didn’t always answer the phone if she didn’t feel like it. Didn’t miss the “Are you going to get that?” more annoying than the intrusive ringing itself. And on Sunday, she read the paper from front page all the way through to the funnies.
But her alone time was fast running out and she had to make a decision because surely he’d run out of food since she knew he wouldn’t have properly planned it all out. Despite the baggies labeled clearly for each day of the week, he’d most likely have stuffed it all in by day number three.
That last night that she stretched it out into, that night that she thought would have so easily made up her mind, she sat in the living room thinking, thinking hard. It had been wonderful, the peace and the freedom. She poured out another glass of white wine. Nibbled at a cracker spread with her favorite brie. In another few days it’d all be decided. All she had to do was nothing at all. She felt so relaxed. No stress, no jumping up to get something he suddenly needed. No questions about where were his car keys or socks. At midnight she went to sleep of one mind. In the morning she woke and knew, with a soft sinking feeling, that it was a good thing she’d tried this out. Despite all the trouble he was, she missed him.
She waited until after breakfast. Lingered over her second cup of coffee, savoring the bitter blackness of it that he’d’ve spit out. With a sigh that turned to a coy smile, she got up from the table and went down the stairs to the cellar.
“Good Morning, darling,” she said. He looked up at her from where he sat on the floor. “I’m sorry, but I needed to know if…”
But that’s all she managed to say.
