Reba went on about her day like the morning incident never happened. She was content on pretending her and Brock didn't transport and they'd just have to try again that night. She was trying to convince herself that it could only happen at night. When midnight passed over or something of the sort. But when she didn't have dental office work to distract her, her thoughts went right back to it.
"Whatcha doin'?" Brock asked, interrupting Reba's thoughts as he walked into the kitchen after the two got home from work.
"Just making dinner," She responded, trying to gather ingredients to make a casserole. "Is Kyra back yet?"
Brock went to the refrigerator and peered in. "I don't think so."
Reba nodded, unable to drag her mind away from her previous thoughts much more.
"What's for dinner?"
"Hmm?" Reba looked up.
"What's for dinner?" Brock came up behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back. She shuddered a bit at his touch, trying not to let it show.
"Just a Mexican casserole recipe I read in a magazine earlier today," She told him, taking a deep breath as his hand inched lower as he let go.
"It smells good," He said, walking around the counter to sit down and talk to her while she cooked. "Did you order those antibiotics I told you about at the office?"
Reba nodded absentmindedly, only half listening to him as she prepared dinner. She hardly noticed Jake walk in the back door.
"Hey, bud," Brock greeted, nudging his son as he walked by. "Where have you been?"
"Basketball practice," The teenager responded, going to the refrigerator in search of food.
"It's good you're going," Brock said in a teasing voice. "What are you looking for? Your mom's making dinner."
Jake closed the door and looked over. "What are we having?"
Reba didn't hear him ask her anything, so she didn't respond. Jake kind of looked at his father before Brock looked towards his wife.
"Reba?"
She lifted her eyes to him. "Yes?"
"Jake just asked you a question."
Reba looked around the room, finally settling on her son that was to her right. "Honey, I didn't see you come in," She admitted, putting on a smile for him. "What was it you needed?"
He blinked a few times before repeating his question to which Reba answered.
"It'll be done here shortly," She told him. "Do you want to go set the table?" She pointed towards a stack of plates with her head and Jake slowly went off into the dining room with them and a pile of forks and napkins.
When he disappeared into the other room, Brock turned his attention towards her. "Reba, are you feeling alright?"
She sighed. "Yeah. Just a little confused is all."
"About what?"
"What happened this morning. I'm just wondering why we couldn't transfer together this morning."
Brock sighed and leaned back in his chair. "That again."
"You asked."
"Because I'm trying to care about you. It's my job as a husband."
"Then don't get angry when I answer you."
"I'm not angry, it's just frustrating."
"So you've said."
He rolled his eyes and stood from his chair. "I'm going to go help Jake."
Reba watched him walk into the other room and pushed the pan she was working with away from her, folding her arms and leaning against the stove. Brock sure did know how to make her feel pathetic and stupid sometimes. It was one thing she didn't particularly care for about him.
"Dinner was good, Mom."
Reba smiled at her son as he helped clear the table. "Thank you, sweetie."
"Yeah, it was pretty good." Brock leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. "Put that one in your recipe box. I liked that one."
"You just keep leaving those cooking magazines in the waiting room at the office," Reba told him, picking up everyone's plates, stacking them on top of one another. "There's more where that came from."
Brock's phone rang in response to her words and she kind of stopped clearing the table.
"You have your phone on?" She asked as he stood. She watched as he nodded.
"I have to take this." He answered it and actually went upstairs to take it. It was very unlike him. Usually, like her, when they were married, both agreed that dinner time was family time and phone calls and such would be for after they ate and got everything cleaned up.
"Wonder who that was..." Reba said to no one in particular as she followed her son into the kitchen.
"Probably some dentist friend of his," Jake offered, beginning to load the dishwasher.
"Maybe..." She set the dishes on the counter. "Finish loading that and I'll be back to wipe down the counters."
She dusted her hands off on her jeans and walked into the living room and up the stairs after Brock, finally hearing his voice as she neared the bedroom where he was.
"She's just been saying some crazy stuff," She heard him say. "Really off the wall things. I'm getting concerned. If there's any way I could get her in to see you, that would be great."
Reba swallowed as she listened outside the closed door. Was he talking about her to someone? She hadn't wanted anyone to know of her being able to transport to different realities until she got it figured out for this very reason. People would think she was a crazy person and stick her in the looney bin. But surely Brock wouldn't let anything like that happen.
"She's usually very stable," He continued. "Unless her routine gets messed up or something."
There was a pause and Reba assumed whoever was on the other line was speaking.
"Right," Brock finally said. "No, no that's not too early. Friday morning at nine o'clock. We'll be there. Thank you again."
Before she had a chance to move, Brock opened the door and nearly ran into her. He reached out and held onto her shoulders trying to stable himself.
"Reba. What are you doing?"
"Were you talking about me in there?" She pointed behind him with serious eyes.
"It's not what you think..."
"Then please explain, because it sure sounded like you think I'm crazy."
"I don't think you're crazy."
"Then where are we going Friday morning at nine o'clock?"
"We're going to see a psychologist."
"A what?"
"A psychologist."
"Why?"
"Because you haven't been yourself lately and I want my wife back."
"Brock, that's ridiculous-"
"I need my wife back."
"I don't need to go talk to someone who doesn't know a thing about me. I don't need to be fixed."
"Reba, you're blowing this out of proportion."
She shook her head, turning and walking down the steps. "I'm not going. Today, tomorrow or Friday morning at nine o'clock."
