Free Playing the Hand You're Dealt by Trice Hickman Page B

“That’s why I need these weekly treatments,” she sighed as Porscha kneaded her back, trying to block out the song and dance that Brenda complained about every week.
    Of course, Gerti and others were there to help, but still, Brenda knew that things would fall apart without her careful instruction and guidance. It was work keeping everyone in line, and she felt that she’d had a long and tiring day, too, just like Ed.
    Brenda wanted to tell her husband that her schedule was just as busy and demanding as his, and that even though she didn’t rise at the crack of dawn every morning like he did, she still worked hard. She didn’t manage legal cases, but she knew how to manage the hell out of people. She was vigilant about making sure that the landscaper, water deliveryman, and even the mailman all provided their services on time, and she took meticulous care to ensure that she and Ed responded to social invitations and attended important events around the city that she carefully synchronized on both their calendars. Ensuring that all the fine details of their lives were attended to was what Brenda considered quite a heavy load.
    It frustrated her that Ed didn’t seem to grasp the magnitude of her many skills. Just because she didn’t litigate high-profile cases or fight to preserve the civil justice system didn’t mean that her activities were any less important—in her opinion. She wished Ed could trade places with her for just one day so he could see all the balls she juggled. If he did, she knew it would show him that he should appreciate her more.
    Brenda took a long look at her husband, who was now sitting on the edge of their bed. She noticed that his shoulders were hunched over like he’d been doing hard labor. Even though he was sitting with his back to her, she could see that he was worried about something. “Ed, what’s wrong with you?”
    â€œNothing, I just had a long day, that’s all.”
    She strained to hear him over the TV, wishing he’d speak up louder. “What did you say?”
    â€œLong day . . . I said I’ve had a long day,” Ed repeated, turning toward her.
    Brenda looked down at his hand and saw that he was still holding his brandy snifter. She thought that was very odd. Every night, like clockwork, Ed would unwind in his study by drinking a small snifter of his favorite brandy before heading up to bed. It had been his nightly ritual for as long as she could remember. But he never brought his glass upstairs. He always left it sitting on his large mahogany desk, and in the morning Gerti would retrieve it, clean it, and sit it back in the same spot for the cycle to begin anew.
    Brenda watched as her husband held the empty snifter in his hand. “Why did you bring that upstairs?” she asked, pointing to his glass.
    Ed looked down at his hand as though he’d just realized what he was holding. “I don’t know,” he responded in a faraway voice, shrugging his shoulders.
    Brenda knew that from time to time Ed could become a little distant when he was working on a major case, but his detachment was usually mixed with excitement from the sheer thrill of the hunt because he loved his work. However, she noticed that his energy was very different tonight, evidenced by the distinct melancholy clouding his mood. She hoped he wasn’t coming down with something because they had a very important event to attend tomorrow night. “Ed, you’re not getting sick, are you?”
    â€œNo, like I said, it’s been a long day.”
    Brenda looked at him as he sat the empty snifter on the antique sitting bench at the foot of their bed before heading over to their large walk-in closet. A few minutes later he emerged in his T-shirt and boxers, then climbed into bed with a stack of documents in his hand. No matter how much he frustrated her, Brenda had to admit that she loved seeing her husband crawl in between the