Free Trouble Won't Wait by Autumn Piper

is sitting on the sofa with a very small, silver box. He looks as proud as a physicist must be when presenting his new discovery to the crowd at the Nobel convention.
    I walk past him to the kitchen to get farther away from the kids’ rooms. He follows, deflated, because I’m not jumping for joy over his peace offering. He places the box on the counter and pushes it to me. “Come on, baby. Just open it.”
    His eyes plead, and he did call me baby. He needs me so much. My hand fidgets with the drawer in front of me while I struggle with pity and seasonal goodwill, and most of all a deep, abiding love for my husband.
    Wham! The badass side of me purposely slams the drawer on my finger to wake me up. Success. I’m fuming.
    “I don’t want it, Michael,” I snarl. Mad works well for me.
    He slides the top of the box off and pushes a ring box at me. Since I refuse to touch it, he opens it to reveal a huge diamond on a platinum band.
    I drag my bedazzled gaze away. “You should be saving up right now–you’re gonna need it for alimony soon!” Any other woman would take the ring and then still divorce him, but not me. I have to screw myself as hard as he did, I guess.
    Mike may be hurt, but his resolve has taken only a light bruising. “Baby, one day you won’t be so mad at me anymore, and this’ll still be here for you. I won’t give up on you, no matter what.” He kisses my forehead, and leaves the room, humming Mandy .
    He got to me, because I’m crying when I go downstairs to my office, pajamas in hand. Son of a bitch. Why does he have to drag this out? Why do I? Why can’t I cut him off in my mind and let go of that love? I should hate him all the time, not only when I remember, well, that thing he did.
    * * * *
    My inbox has several messages from friends, and one from “Ferris” at a GasKo address. I smile as I read it.
     
    Axl ,–cute, huh? Like in Guns-n-Roses
    Hope you’re lonely tonight. I know I am. I’m thinking of getting a cat.
    Does your month start yesterday, or when you first go to counseling? Let me know, I’ll be counting down.
    Email me anytime. I always have my laptop.
    I’d sure like a picture of you–hint.
    Crazed,
    Ferris
     
    Crazed , I think to myself, as I’m crawling into the spare bed to sleep. Crazed.
    * * * *
    Monday morning, as I return from walking Rachel to school, Mike calls to tell me we have an appointment the next day with a counselor. How on earth he managed to get in so fast, I can’t guess. He sends me three text messages before noon saying he’ll “luv” me “4Evr.” Ugh. I methodically delete each without reply.
    My mom calls and we visit like always, and I make sure not to tell her a blessed thing that truly matters in my life right now. She and my dad have taken up golf since they came into money–right after the natural gas wells went in on their property–so she has lots of silly golf anecdotes for me.
    “Honey. Why don’t you and the kids come down and visit over Christmas break?” she asks.
    “I’ll think about it. But December is crazy for Mike’s business. All the houses are on deadlines, because everybody wants to move in by Christmas.” The truth is, I’m not even considering going to Phoenix, but I can’t crush Mom like that.
    Mom sounds bummed when she says goodbye, but what can I do?
    I email Adam before doing my work.
     
    Ferris,
    What kind of cat?
    I’ll call it a month when Christmas is over.
    I’ll look for a picture, how about one from high school? Kidding.
    See ya later,
    A
     
    Funny thing, when I go looking for a picture of myself. Every picture with me has one of the kids or Mike in it. I don’t think Adam would appreciate one with Mike. So, I rig up the digital camera on the timer and snap a silly shot of myself with my tongue sticking out and send it as a joke, along with one of me smiling, which comes out decent, if far from lovely. Last, I attach a link for a clip from the Victoria’s Secret site, of a model strutting