Free Unbearable by Sherry Gammon Page B

Relieved at his renewed commitment, I let the issue drop.
     
    ***
     
    “Perfect.” I set a bouquet of white roses in the center of the table. Being our six-month anniversary, I wanted everything to be special. I’d hurried home after taking my last final of the semester and prepared all of Garen’s favorite foods. The eggplant Parmesan recipe was tricky, at least for me. I couldn’t cook to save my life, but I hoped that this time it’d work. I followed the recipe exactly and even watched a YouTube video of a French chef preparing the exact dish.
    I removed a pair of silver candlesticks, a wedding gift, from a long slender box. I set them on either side of the flowers and lit them as his car pulled into the driveway of our small two-story townhouse. I did a quick check of the living-dining room combination to make sure everything was in its place. The gray linen couch and chair sat exactly at a ninety-degree angle. I’d dusted the torch lamp, made sure the flat-screen TV hung perfectly straight on the wall, and dusted the photos from our wedding, spacing them equally on the side table. Nothing was out of place, which meant Garen should be pleased. A perfect evening.
    The door flew open and Garen stormed in, his overcoat tucked neatly under his arm alongside his briefcase. Nervously, I smoothed down my apron, wishing I’d thought to remove it. I wore my white button down shirt and plaid blue and green skirt Garen liked.
    “I hope dinner’s ready. I’m starved.” His eyes narrowed on me before he guided his briefcase into its spot next to the living room chair along the wall, and hung his coat in the closet.
    “How was your day?” I untied the apron and placed it neatly in a kitchen drawer.
    He angled his head and said, “How do you think it was, Terese? Do I look like I’m in a good mood?” He spun away and went into the living room to watch the news. Like he always did. He hadn’t noticed the beautiful table I’d set, or commented on how delicious the eggplant Parmesan smelled as it baked in the oven.
    I stepped next to him as he sat on the couch, being careful not to block the TV. He hated when I interrupted the news. I waited patiently until the commercial.
    “Happy anniversary, Garen.” I smiled, settling in next to him and placing my hand on his knee.
    His eyes stayed on the TV. “It’s not our anniversary.” He dropped his head back against the couch and rubbed his temples with his middle fingers. When I tried to do it for him, he slapped my hands away. I rubbed at the sting.
    “It’s our six-month anniversary. I made eggplant Parmesan and apricot turnovers.” I smiled as his eyes met mine in a sneer.
    “You actually cooked?” he snapped. “So I guess that means we’ll be getting our stomachs pumped for dessert?” He pushed to his feet and strolled into the kitchen. I followed, letting his snide comment roll off my back. I wanted tonight to be perfect. I fought hard for us the past six months. Tonight I wanted to remember why I fell in love with him.
    “Maybe you’ll be surprised. I’ve really tried to make it a special night.” I smiled proudly as he picked up one of the turnovers and examined it. A moment later he tossed it callously onto the plate.
    “I’ll wash up. If this crap totally sucks, there’s leftover Chinese in the fridge we can eat.” Without so much as a glance my way, he headed straight for the bathroom, taking my dreams of a romantic evening with him.
    I increased the temperature to 450° on the eggplant to brown the top, setting the timer for five minutes. I slumped against the counter, my arms folded, and wondered what it’d take to please him. What was wrong with me? It felt like I was back in ninth grade taking dance from Ms. Liddy again. Trying and trying, yet never quite meeting her expectations.
    “Terese, come here, please .” Garen’s voice echoed low and threatening through the small townhome. I swallowed hard and ran to him. This couldn’t be