11. LATE

"Edythe?" I started awake as the sun hit my eyes and flopped over in bed, reaching my hand out to the right side of it but found the space empty instead. So she'd left again. Just three days ago she'd done the same thing, and I wondered, a little hurt, a little upset, as to why she kept doing that now. I covered my face with the blanket. Another uneventful night for the seventh time in a row, but I tried my best not to complain. Still, a tiny, destructive part of my brain called back that thought I had the morning after our first night together, about her regretting having married me and how that night went, for more reasons beyond the obvious. It made me sort of doubt myself - which was never very hard to do in general - as a husband; made me turn over my brain to try and figure out where I must be lacking in that department even when I knew I was being ridiculous - not to mention ridiculously unfair to my wife - with those one-sided conclusions I'd been drawing. Dad told me to respect Edythe; to cherish her. How could I possibly be making good on that promise if I kept doubting her - doubting us - like this?

I sighed very loudly. Finally deciding to start the day for my own sanity, I threw the covers off and brought my arms up over my head, stretching myself out to try and release the tension; release those negative thoughts into the air and tried to visualize them evaporating into the atmosphere. A good stretch always made my head feel a little clearer in the mornings. I scratched my back as I got to my feet and started towards the kitchen. Of course, I still somehow managed to nearly miss the doorway entirely and ended up stubbing my little toe on the outside of the frame. Great start to the day, truly. I muttered a few curses under my breath, but did finally manage to get to the kitchen mostly unscathed. There, I found a note next to a plate of cold French toast in Edythe's fancy writing like she was addressing our wedding invitations all over again:

"Beau,

Out hunting. Be back before you wake up.

All my love, Edythe."

My lips pulled down into a small frown that said something along the lines of "it couldn't be helped" - you know, anticipated disappointment - and I put the note aside. "Well, you're late." I said to no one but myself on my honeymoon. I wished we could talk about it, but I didn't even know where to start. Besides, the ball was in Edythe's court, and I knew that the very first step towards respecting my wife completely was to leave it there. I wouldn't push her, I had no right to. I understood that. Nodding my resolve, I focused my attention back on breakfast. I took the soggy plastic wrap off the once-steaming plate of French toast and threw the entire thing in the microwave for a minute and a half. When they came out, the steam, carrying hints of blueberry and cinnamon in it, swirled up to my nose. And it smelled delicious. I turned the TV on for some background noise in the empty house and put on a sitcom. I was used to being on my own, but it certainly wasn't the best feeling in the world on something like your honeymoon. And so, I sat alone at the suddenly very large dining room table and decided there was nothing else to do but dig in. I cut my slices into smaller bites, pouring myself a small bowl of syrup on the side to dunk them in. They were good, of course – would've tasted even better though if Edythe were sitting right there beside me. I compromised with myself - maybe I would just ask for that much, then. Her company. Or, at least, an earlier heads-up before she left me without it.

Just as I was about to dunk my last bite of French toast, the door opened.

"I'm home." I'd know that musical voice anywhere. I zoomed over to her quick like an over-eager puppy and wrapped my arms tight around her, I just couldn't help it.

"Miss me much?" My wife asked and laughed, kissing my cheek then kicking off her black lace-up boots.

"Hardly." I said, suddenly pulling away. I felt my face heat up again. I mean, it was a lie of course, but I didn't need to look that desperate. We'd get around to it eventually anyways, I'd made up my mind about that.

"Right." She nodded sarcastically, plucking a green leaf from her bronze hair.

"You were, um, thirsty again?" Ease into it, Beau, ease into it...

"A little, I guess."

"Do you want to talk about it?" And then it just came right out of me. Seriously, why was I so bad at this?

She shook her head. "Trust me, Beau – it's not what you think." Well, what did she think I was thinking? Do you really want to be with me? Do you regret marrying me? Am I just deluding myself? It sounded worse and worse in my head and I knew there was no way I could say any of those words out loud now.

"It's just that I know you already went three days ago, and, um, I thought..."

"Beau, it's not your fault. I promise." she reassured me in a tender whisper, stroking my face.

I guess that was nice to hear. Sighing, I covered her hands with mine. "Thanks. You know that you can talk to me about anything though, right? And I'll try my best to help - or even to just listen, if that's what you needed."

She kissed my cheek and smiled. "I do know. And thank you for that, Beau. But it's just hunting. One meal. Nothing more and nothing less."

"I know, I know. I just..." I bit my lip, unable to resist my curiosity now. "I just thought you only needed to go maybe twice a month or something like that, not every other day. And I'm only asking about it because it made me wonder if I'd-" I gasped. Immediately, I noticed those dark circles under her eyes were still there – vague maybe, but definitely still there. And then I realized: Maybe I really had been jumping to all the wrong conclusions this whole time. I came up to her and brushed my fingers over them.

"What's up with you?" I asked, my voice rising in concern. Gently, she pushed past me to get to the full-body mirror in the bedroom and touched at her face with both hands.

"Should we call your mom?" I offered, grabbing my phone. She stopped me and lowered my wrist.

"No, I don't want her to worry. It's probably nothing. Just stress." she said, unconvincingly, because I think we both knew that wasn't how it worked.

"Do you need to go out again?" I asked and put my phone away at her urging, not wanting to betray the disappointment in my voice at the aspect of her leaving again but wanting to make sure she'll be alright with me so close to her in the house. Was she not getting enough to drink?

"I'm fine. Trust me." She squeezed my hand, and I tried to believe in her words. "So - what do you want to do today?"

I opened my mouth to speak knowing exactly what I wanted to do - no, I wouldn't push her of course, but I could simply throw in a friendly suggestion now and again - but she might as well have been able to read my mind. Or, maybe I was just that desperate. I think she found it sort of amusing. "Besides that." She rolled her eyes, pulling her jacket even tighter over her very shapely chest and giving me one of her signature smirks which saw her dimples pop out like sunshine through the clouds on a rainy day. Naturally, I instantly lost the will to fight her, folding like origami. Dang, she was good. Maybe next time, then. I put a finger on my chin, trying to think.

"How about cliff-diving, then?" I offered, my face brightening. Her mouth fell agape.

"Are you serious?" She laughed incredulously.

"Dead serious." I responded, straightening my back. "Right off of a waterfall." It was another kind of rush, at least.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head. "Okay, who are you and what have you done to my husband?" A playful smile tugged up at the corners of her lips. I put my chin on my hand and looked into her eyes, grinning from ear-to-ear. She shifted her jaw, trying to read me. Then her lips pulled back into a tight smile.

"Oh wait, now I get it - you just want to see me in a bathing suit, don't you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, I'm definitely not opposed to the idea." I admitted, leaning back on the bed with a big dumb smile on my face.

"You're disgusting." She put her hand up to my face and turned back the way she came. Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed her from behind, attacking her with kisses until we were lost in fits of laughter on the bed. "You know, you could have just asked us to go swimming or whatever like a normal person." She smirked, giving me a look from beneath her pale lavender eyelids that made my heart beat a little faster.

"You're right, I could have done that – but then you wouldn't have been able to see what a spontaneous person I am." I answered with a congenial smile, putting decided emphasis on the word "spontaneous".

"Just so you know, the fact you even use the word "spontaneous" already tells me that you're not. It's a dead giveaway." She bit back a grin then sighed loudly, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine. I know a place." And then she showed me a radiant smile. God, she was so beautiful.

"You get ready in here, I'll get ready in there." She got to her feet in one swift movement and motioned to the bathroom, rummaging through our bags again. She tossed me a pair of swim trunks, thwacking me over the head with them (on purpose, of course) then pulled out her own swimsuit, not letting me get even a peek at the design; what it was I could most certainly look forward to.

"That's unfair." I protested. Her eyes crinkled.

"It's a surprise." She laughed and waved me off with two fingers, disappearing behind the bathroom door.