An Ocean Away

Traveling overseas is always educational. Tonight's hotel room is very elegant with a luxurious tube and contemporary styling. Feeling I should learn as much about this culture as I can, I flip on the T.V. and see a French show with English subtitles.
Alone in this room I think about my wife. She would love it here. I think she would love being able to tell people she traveled here even more than the actual vacation itself. I should call her and tell her about my day. Let's see, there's six hours difference, and it is eleven o'clock here. I'm getting ready for bed, while she is getting the kids home from school.

A baby sitter answers. My wife hadn't told me she had plans this week, and usually she did tell me. The kids seem fine, but no one seems to know where she went. The sitter said she was given a number to call in case of an emergency. I'm not familiar with the number, but that doesn't mean anything.

I'm probably being paranoid, but when you haven't been intimate with your spouse for several weeks, it seems like something bigger is always brewing. Her temper has been flaring more regularly and she blames it on my long hours at work. It's just her way of getting attention. It will all pass.

Calling to check my messages at work, there is nothing new for me. I remember one time when a friend had asked me to check on his wife while he was out of town, and the evil thoughts began flowing. She was an attractive lady, and it we had a quick fling it would have been our little secret. But that stuff doesn't really happen.

Just like now. I'm remembering something a friend had said to me a couple of weeks ago. "So when are you going out of town next?" he asked. It seemed innocent enough, but why would he care when I was going out of town. Besides, he's married.
Why am I even thinking about this? He's never stabbed me in the back before, but he might be tempted. He'd know I couldn't come back in time to catch him in the act. I'll call him just to say hi.

He's not home either. His wife says he is working late. I could call his work, but then what eoulf I say? Hey buddy, I was just calling to make sure you weren't sleeping with my wife. Oh for christ's sake, let it go. She is not sleeping around. Call the number she gave the sitter if you're that concerned.

She wouldn't cheat on me. Period. I'm a good guy. I make a decent living. Sure I'm not George Clooney, and maybe I'm short on the romance side of things. Who am I kidding? I'm romantically pathetic. It just feels so unnatural, but I know it's important to her. She's a beautiful woman, who deserves to have some romance in her life, but I don't think she would be unhappy enough to leave.

I remember that party we went to at my friend's house. He was dancing with my wife, dipping her like Fred Astaire dipped Ginger. We were drunk and laughing and it didn't bother me a bit then. Was he whispering things in her ear? Was that their version of foreplay?

I have to call her. I have to know.

"We're sorry, the cellular customer you are trying to reach is either out of the service area or has the phone turned off. Please try again later."
So much for an emergency call from the sitter. Her phone was not on. She was purposefully unavailable, and I couldn't feel more helpless. I've let her get away. I'm 10,000 miles from home, and my home is on fire.

She can't say I didn't give her space. She can't say I didn't care.

Maybe I should call the kids back and tell them how much I love them. I can't lose them as well. No. They will know something is wrong. I shouldn't say anything to worry them. They know I love them. I may not be around that much, and I've missed a lot of their special moments, but they know I love them. They have to. God damn it, they have to.

As I lie down on a hopelessly crushed feather pillow, I stare at a ceiling with tiny water stains. How long has the water been there, and how much damage has been done? That was a really important question tonight. How much damage had been done?