Isn’t it Ironic!

The garage door closed slowly but I watched it go all the way down, still sitting in my car, headlights shining. I wanted to make sure nothing had followed me home.

The air in my house was alive with whispers.

Maybe I should go and grab dinner at the Stagecoach! It seemed like a great idea, but I’d still have to come home afterwards. The phone rang and I almost screamed. OK, pull yourself together!


Nothing, just static. “Hello, who’s there?”

“Its me, whats wrong? You sound on edge.” It was Les. I must have sounded bad because my husband lived in his little high-tech bubble and didn’t usually notice what was going on around him.

“Bad day at work.” I replied. “I’ll be OK after a glass of wine.” I didn’t want to tell him what was really wrong. We’d already been down that road.

“Well I hope I’m not going to make it worse. Looks like I’m not going to be home this weekend. Things aren’t going smoothly here and we can’t hand off the project Friday as planned. Its going to be next week instead.”

To be honest I wasn’t really listening. Although there was nothing to see, I knew I wasn’t alone.

“Hey, are you listening to me? There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Yea, I know, it never is.” I answered, not even thinking about the words that came out of my mouth. I don’t remember hanging up the phone, or how long I stood by the door. The phone rang again. What just happened?


It was Les again. “Do you want to fly out here for the weekend? I’d be working, but you could shop during the day and we could have dinner together.”

“A weekend in Columbus, Ohio in January doesn’t really appeal to me. I’ve got stuff to do at home, a weekend alone will help me take care of it.”

“What stuff?”

“Les, I have to go, I’ll call you back later.”

The air had become electric, literally, small sparks were igniting, lighting up the darkness.

“Show yourself! I know you’re here, just show yourself.”

I head musicWhere was it coming from.

“Isn’t it Ironic, like rain on your wedding day……”

Was it outside? I walked towards the patio door, but before I even reached it, it slid open. How could that be? It was locked. The music came from outside, maybe the Stagecoach? I only heard their music in the summer when live bands on the patio.

Maybe I will go for a drink after all. “Hey I’m leaving, want to come for a drink with me?” I shouted into the darkness.

The house remained silent!


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