In Another Life

Weary and tired, the man treks home from another long day of work.
He forces a smile as his daughter runs to meet him, and holds the look of contentment for his wife standing in the doorway.
He opens the door to his dark and lonely apartment, flips on the light switch, and tosses his keys onto the table.
The smell of meatloaf fills the air. His wife is a decent cook, even when she cooks things that aren't his favorites. They are trying to instill a love of good home cooking in their daughter. Otherwise, he's not even sure why she still enjoys making this dish.
He goes to the freezer and pulls out one of the dozen TV dinners stored there. He glances at it and notices it is meatloaf. Not one of his favorites, he's not even sure why he bought. Maybe it was because she used to love to make it.
They sit at the table together, the happy little family. His wife looks exhausted. He wonders if she's as worn out as she is. Considering how hard she works all day, he knows it isn't fair to think this, but he can't help but think that she isn't as pretty as she used to be.
He turns on the TV and sits at the couch with his dinner and a beer in hand. He is just in time for a women's shampoo commercial. The woman on the screen has long, flowing strands of gold running down her back, not unlike the woman he could have married, if he had chosen to.
They read their daughter a story, tuck her in, and collapse into their own bed exhausted. After a few seconds, he turns to his wife, but realizes she is already snoring, sound asleep. It's okay, he thinks, I wasn't really in the mood tonight anyway.
He crawls into bed alone after reading a bit of Newsweek. He looks around the bedroom for a moment before flicking off the light. It's so empty, and so dull.
As he drifts off to sleep, he realizes he has no one to talk to anymore. All he really wants is someone with whom to share his hopes and dreams, but he no longer has any such a person, and most of his hopes and dreams are gone by now anyway.
Another day dawns, bright and cheery, more cheery than it has a right to.
The man meets his wife and daughter for breakfast. His smile is a little more genuine now as the smell of eggs and bacon reach his nose, and his wife has managed to clean herself up rather nicely, too. Still, he remembers with some nostalgia how they used to clean themselves up together.
The man pours himself a bowl of cereal, flicks on the morning news and opens the morning newspaper. He eats his cheerios and sips his coffee. That was one thing she never liked was coffee. If nothing else, at least he gets to drink it as much as he wants now, which most days is probably more than he should.
After breakfast and quick kisses for his wife and daughter, he rushes off to work, trying to make himself eager for another hard day at the office. At least the pay is good. He needs that to support his family.
He gets in his car and drives to work. At least he can find some enjoyment in what he does for a living, which he'd better considering how little he gets paid, but that's the trade off you have to make. At least he doesn't have a wife and family he needs to support on his marginal paycheck.
His boss greets him grumpily and tells him to get to work.
His boss greets him with an empty smile. The man knows that the man he takes orders from is lonely, too.
The morning is long, lunch is brief, and the afternoon is even longer. As usual, no one seems to appreciate him, and he simply submits to what his superiors tell him to do. He can't wait to get home, even that makes him feel less empty than he does here.
He wishes he could spend more time at work than he already does. At least then he wouldn't be alone. Even though he doesn't get along perfectly with everyone he works with, having someone there to argue with is better than having no one at all.
Weary and tired, the man treks home from another long day of work.
He forces a smile as his daughter runs to meet him, and holds the look of contentment for his wife standing in the doorway.
He opens the door to his dark and lonely apartment, flips on the light switch, and tosses his keys onto the table.
They sit and eat. It's lasagna this time. The mans mood brightens. Lasagna is one of his favorites, even if his wife isn't as good at making it as his mother used to be.
He decides to order in Chinese tonight and watch a movie. It's a western, staring Clint Eastwood, one of his favorites.
After dinner, his daughter wants to play a game with him. He is content enough as he sits there playing Memory with her. Even if he doesn't feel as close to his wife as he used to, at least he gets to help with the raising of this beautiful little girl.
As he watches the television, memories come rushing back and he can barely keep a tear from falling down his face. He didn't realize it before, but this was the very first western he ever watched with her. She was never as big of a fan of westerns as he was, but she feigned a deep interest in this one, just to make him happy. How he missed her.
It's not until it's bedtime for his daughter that he realizes that it's a Friday night. When is the last time he's done something special with his wife on a Friday night?
It's not until the movie is over that he realizes it's a Friday night. When is the last time he's gone out on a Friday night?
"Honey," he says after they close the door on the daughter drifting off to sleep. "We should do something tonight."
He really feels like he should do something tonight.
"Oh don't be silly," she says. "We have to say and watch our daughter."
There's no reason why he shouldn't go out tonight. He stands up and turns off the TV.
"We don't have to go out," he protests. "We could just stay here, have a quiet little evening."
He walks to the closet and gets his jacket.
She sighs and rubs her forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she says, "but I'm much too tired for one of your 'quiet little evenings' tonight. Maybe another time."
He grabs his keys and opens the front door.
He frowns. "You're always too tired," he says. "I just want to spend more time with you, to be close again."
He locks the door behind him.
She frowns and shakes her head. "I know," she says, "just not tonight. Why don't you call up some of your friends and see if they'll meet you at that old bar you used to go to if you really want to do something."
He walks down the steps to the lot where he keeps his jeep.
Strangely hurt and upset, he says a bit louder than intended, "Well maybe I will." With that he marches off to the garage and jumps into the minivan.
And then he speeds away.
He's not sure what draws him to the bar he chooses, maybe it's because this is where they first met.
He walks in and looks around, not much has changed in the year or so since he was last here.
He does see one thing different, though, a pretty blonde girl sitting in a corner booth.
He stares for a while until she looks up at him. Embarrassed, he has no choice but to walk over.
"I'm sorry," he says as he approaches, "you just looked so much like a woman I once knew, from a distance."
"I'm sorry," he says as he approaches, "you look strangely like my wife from a distance."
She smiles up at him. "Why don't you have a seat and tell me about her," she suggests.
"So are you married?" she asks rather bluntly.
"So you're married," she says, stating the obvious.
Nervous he glances around at the other bar patrons and says, "No."
Starting to feel uncomfortable he toys with his wedding band and says, "Yes. Seven years. We have a four year old daughter."
"So this woman you thought I was, you were never... serious with her?"
"So why are you hear talking to a woman who looks like your wife instead of home with your wife and child?"
He's feeling rather embarrassed now, but strangely moved to be open.
"I was serious with her," he confesses. "I could have married her, but I didn't."
"I just don't feel like it's home there anymore."
"Why not?"
"I didn't have enough to offer her. I was scared. I wasn't ready for that big of a commitment."
"She doesn't offer me what I want anymore. I'm scared we're losing each other. It all just seems like such a big commitment."
He pauses, still not sure why he feels compelled to be so open for his woman he just sat down across from.
"Well, it is a big commitment," she replied matter-of-factly.
He says nothing.
"Why are you here?" she asks.
"I don't know," he answers, honestly.
"What are you looking for?" she pushes.
He looks up into her eyes. They are even the same color as those of the woman he once loved so dearly and now he fears he has lost forever. He says, "Something better than what I have."
She glances up at the ceiling as if thinking for a few seconds and then looks back at him and asks, "Something better, or just something different?"
The question takes him off guard, and he doesn't know what to say.
"Are you happy with your family, or at least with your little girl?" she asks.
"Are you happy with your work, what you do when you aren't mopping around bars?" she asks.
"Yes," he answers, a bit shocked at the question, but also more surprised at his answer than he should have been.
"Then why do you want something different?" she asked.
He stopped to think for a moment. "I want more," he said quietly, ashamed and feeling greedy.
She shrugged and then smiled sweetly. "Who doesn't?" she asked.
And then it hit him: this woman was exactly what he had been looking for.
Not sure how to proceed, he just sat there staring at her until she said, "Let me buy you a drink."
Hit by the sudden realization that this could be his second chance, he blurted, "Let me buy you a drink."
"O-okay," he stammered nervously.
"Fine," she said with a confident nod.
"Rum and coke," he said.
"Rum and coke," she said.
"That's my favorite drink."
She came back with the drinks and sat down.
He came back with the drinks and sat down.
"What do you think is going to happen tonight?" she asked.
"Nothing is going to happen," he said quickly. "I'm married."
He couldn't help but smile. "I have no idea," he said.
"You're only sitting here at all because I reminded you of her," she said.
"And you're not her," he agreed sadly with her unspoken thought.
"Do you wish I was?" she asked.
He took a sip of his drink and then said, "I don't know."
"Yes, of course you do," she replied, and she took a sip of her own drink, waiting for his response.
"I used to love her so much," he confessed, "but now it's just a memory."
She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. "You shouldn't be here right now," she said as if she understood it all. "You should be with her."
"I can always be with her," he protested quickly, surprising himself. "Well, at least in the same room with her. That's about all being with her means anymore."
"I can never be with her," he protested quickly, disheartening himself. "I blew my one chance. Plus, I don't even know where she is anymore."
"I think you could fix that if you really wanted to," she noted.
"What are you saying?" he protested, starting to feel angry. "You don't even know me."
She shrugged. "I think I know enough," she said.
He felt his frustration rising now. He had thought this woman had really understood, but now she pretended to understand too much. "I think I should go now," he said.
"No, not yet," she protested. "Not quite yet." And she reached across the table and touched his arm.
With that one touch, all his anger faded. It was just what her touch used to feel like, so long ago.
"After you leave here tonight," she said, "what are you going to do?"
"I don't know," he answered, awestruck at her beauty all over again.
"Here," she said, as she slid around the booth to sit next to him, "I think I can help you figure it out."
And she kissed him softly on the cheek.
And she kissed him long and hard on the lips.
Started even by the brief contact, he jumped up and stared at her in horror.
Started but pleased by the passion of her embrace, he slowly pulled away.
He realized in an instant that this woman was not her.
"I need to get home to my wife," he exclaimed.
"I need to find her," he said almost in a whisper.
The woman smiled. "I know," she said.
The man rushed home.
He practically ran into his bedroom.
He ran to his address book.
She was still awake.
Her old number was still in it.
How he hoped that she would talk to him.
How he hoped that she would answer the phone.
"Hello, baby," he said.
He waited forever as the phone rang and then a tired but familiar voice said, "Hello?"
She looked up at him and he saw tears in her eyes.
"It's me," he said simply, hoping she would know.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
"Why are you calling me?" she asked.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I need to be with you now."
"I've been such a fool all these years," he said. "Can I see you tonight?"
She started to cry.
She opened her arms and got up from the bed. "I'm so sorry I've been so cranky and distant," she sobbed.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't think that's going to work."
"No, no," he protested. "I've taken you for granted." He welcomed her into his embrace.
"Why not?" he asked.
She cried against his shoulder. "I love you," she sobbed.
"It's been eight years," she said, sounding tired. "What made you decide to call me up again now?"
"I love you, too," he whispered into her ear.
"I realized I never stopped loving you," he replied.
She pulled back just enough to bring her lips up to his.
There was silence on the other end of the line for what seemed like an eternity.
They stayed wrapped in that warm embrace for what may have seemed an eternity.
Finally, he said, "I want to get back what we used to have."
She was quiet for another moment and then she said softly, "I'd like that, too."
"Can we meet tomorrow then?" he asked. "Around ten, for coffee?"
"Come on, he said, pulling on her hand, let's go to bed and in the morning I can make you a nice fresh pot of coffee."
She sighed heavily.
She practically giggled.
"You know I hate coffee."
"I guess we're just going to have to get to know each other all over again," he said.
She thought for a moment and then said softly, "Okay."
And with a click, he turned out the lights, smiled, and went to bed with his wife.
And with a click, he hung up the phone, smiled, and went to bed dreaming of the woman who might still one day be his wife.