Free Window of Guilt by Jennie Spallone Page B

alcohol had lost its appeal. No business colleagues whose friendship he’d secured with Cubs games tickets and barbecues.
    Ryan’s chest was aching like a battlefield gone asunder. He fumbled around in his robe pocket for a nitroglycerin tablet. Shit. He’d left it upstairs in the bedroom!
    Rocky was whimpering now, his paws on Ryan’s knees. Ryan inched forward to comfort the dog but pain whispered sweet nothings in his ear as it encased his chest in a cement corset. “Laurie!” Ryan called into the void. Their bedroom was down the hall and up twelve stairs. No way could she hear him.
    Fear cloaked his consciousness like undersized jockey shorts. Only one person to call. Ryan dialed his number. The seconds stretched like Silly Putty as he waited for someone to pick up. For three weeks, he’d ridiculed his wife when she insisted she’d found a young man lying on their lawn. He’d ridiculed her when she claimed to have discovered a folded napkin upon which was scrawled both their home and summer addresses. A napkin he’d not detected. What would she say when she learned of his duplicity?
    “Yeah?” mumbled a drowsy voice.
    “Hey, man, it’s one o’clock in the morning. See you at the fitness center in the morning.”
    “Don’t hang up. Can’t breathe.”
    The voice sounded more alert now. “Take your nitro?”
    “Can’t get to it.”
    “Wife there with you?”
    “Upstairs asleep. I’m alone in kitchen.”
    “You call the paramedics?”
    Panic stroked the contours of Ryan’s body. “Help me.”
    The voice was more forceful now. “Hang on. I’m calling nine-one-one. In the meantime, use one of the calming visualizations we practiced.”
    Ryan pictured himself and Laurie walking along the beach, cool breeze in their hair, sun beating down upon their tan shoulders. That image ceded to reality where fiery words over money problems volleyed for serve.
    “You still there, dude?” the voice asked, concerned.
    “Uh huh.”
    “Full body breathing. Lie down on the floor or couch,” the voice commanded.
    “Gonna pass out.”
    “The ambulance will be there in a few minutes. Lie down, man.”
    Ryan positioned himself between the kitchen table and the refrigerator. Better to die than burden his wife. Laurie, so upright and true. Laurie, to whom honor and saving face meant everything.
    “You lying down, Ryan?”
    “Uh huh.” Too late to confide in Laurie his work was a sham.
    “Good. Close your eyes now. Breathe in from your toes all the way up through your legs, pelvis, stomach, and chest.”
    Ryan breathed in but panic engulfed his efforts.
    “Still there, man?”
    “Not working,” he gasped. Too late to tell her what he’d done to keep her and Rory safe.
    “Hang in there, dude,” the voice consoled him. “The paramedics will be there soon.”
    A high-pitched tone rang through his dizziness. Too late to tell her she was all the friends he needed. “Can’t make it to the door,” he mumbled into the phone.
    Suddenly, Laurie and the paramedics were running towards him. His wife’s frightened glance sent a sharp pain through his heart. “I’m all right,” he protested weakly. A whiff of orange essence was the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness.

13
    The trees were decked out in their fall costume of reds, oranges, and yellows. Unusual for early September. A brisk rustling of trees accompanied squeals of laughter as little feet pumped their swings skyward. Laurie breathed in the palpable energy that zipped its way through the playground as a handful of fearless girls and boys navigated the nine-foot climbing wall.
    “Faster, Mom, faster,” Rory yelled, as his black tire swirled like a Tilt-A-Whirl.
    “You go any faster, you’ll zoom off into the universe,” Laurie joked, giving the tire swing a hefty push.
    “We should have brought Rocky,” Rory giddily shouted.
    “Rocky would pee up a storm,” his mother laughed. Once home from Wisconsin, Ryan had planned to bring