Brief Snapshot
When Tommy got home after a long night, he was surprised to find Helen still awake, seated at her dressing table in front of the mirror, smoothing cream into her face. He bent down and gave her a light kiss. She grimaced and reached up to wipe the cream from his mouth. He started to get out of his evening wear, stopping when his wife said, "You know, I never noticed until this afternoon how pretty Barbara is."
He hesitated, not sure if there was a right answer. "You think?" he said finally, "I've never noticed."
"Oh, I think you have," she said, watching him carefully.
"Barbara is Barbara. She's my partner and a very good detective. I don't look at her that way," he said, putting his clothes away. What he wanted was for this conversation to be over, and to get some sleep. He well knew that Barbara was pretty – beautiful, almost, though she never seemed to pay much attention to her appearance. But his feelings for her were his secret, something he kept close to his heart, and it went far beyond her looks. There were times when he faced the possibility – the probability - that he loved her, but it was not something he wanted his wife to even suspect. When Helen came back, he had decided to do all he could to save his marriage. He thought that she didn't love him much more than he loved her, but they were right for one another, on paper anyway. What he hoped for was that the closeness they had had when they were friends would return and possibly be enough to sustain them. For now, they were cautious with one another, and he felt a twinge of guilt remembering how, in a gesture of closeness, he had told her about sharing a caravan with Barbara, encouraging the laughter that diminished his partner in both their eyes. He knew how Barbara had enjoyed being in that small space, how much she wanted him to appreciate the memories it evoked for her. He regretted that he'd acted like a sulky child, like the ponce she used to think him. No espresso machine! No luxurious shower! He thought now that he could have put up with such lacks like a gentleman and acted kindly to her. Yes, he thought, Helen had been right to say "Poor Barbara," even though she said it only to tease him. Poor Barbara indeed, she'd had to put up with his ponciness more than once. But he took great comfort in thinking she usually forgave him fairly quickly.
When he came out of the shower, Helen was in bed, and as they turned out the lights, she said, "and if you dream about Barbara tonight, try not to call out her name."