Thread: Cold War Defrosted

The days ran together seamlessly. The only definitive sign of a beginning or end were the processes of waking up and falling asleep. These two processes that had once been taken for granted had become the product of much obsession over the month of October. The thought that waking up alone was just as difficult as falling asleep alone had grown in her mind, and this fueled many bitter thoughts about the hours Roy kept. She remembered overhearing her father joking with Roy one day about his work, and how leaving her alone for so long could become harmful. A girl with too much time on her hands was bound to start formulating opinions and demanding more control. Eleanor had never been much interested in any type of media, but the noise the radio offered was generally better than eerie silence. She did enjoy the 4 o'clock show with the older gentleman. His voice was smooth and calming, and the first time she'd heard his voice she'd thought Roy was home. It was surreal, but she found comfort in it. Roy's calls were few and far between. She learned on his first month of work that sitting beside the phone was futile. It was best to stay busy, but in an empty and immaculate house, this was an impossible task. The day had gone so slowly that she found herself standing at the end of the long narrow hall, from which their bedroom and Roy's office sprouted. At the end of the long corridor was a narrow slab of chocolate colored wall that displayed a large painting of a beautiful Californian sunset. The oranges and yellows blended together along the painting's clear horizon, gradually darkening into a violent red sky. She knew that art was completely subjective, but she couldn't understand why Roy agreed to showcase this piece. It terrified Eleanor. The house remained incredibly still. There were no lights with the exception of the dim kitchen sink light, which was flickering a desperate cry for a new bulb. The living room and foyer appeared perfect, as if it were left just the way it had been a month prior. At the very end of the hall she stood, silent with a lit cigarette dangling between her thin fingers of her left hand. Her wedding band hung loose near her knuckle, and the obnoxiously large rock perched upon heavy white gold weighed it downward. She wore a simple burgundy a-line dress that hung just below her knees. She was barefoot something her mother considered wild and inappropriate since her heels left deep holes in the carpet and she would be the one to vacuum them out anyway. It was obvious she knew he'd be returning today considering the calendar on the kitchen wall had all the previous days crossed off and the current date circled several times in red. She hated the waiting game. Boredom set in and the painting engulfed her as the sun began to set through the kitchen curtains, scattering an orange glare throughout the open house. She swore for a moment that she could smell the smoke of the burning West coast rolling from out of the frame, and that she could suddenly feel the heat nipping at her fingertips. A sound emerged from the driveway, startling Eleanor. She lifted her hand and looked at her cigarette, which had burned down so far in her absence that it had left two red welts on the inside of her index and middle finger. Looking downward towards her feet, she noticed where the ash had fallen and singed the carpet slightly. With a sigh she pressed the cigarette butt into the ashtray on the kitchen counter and made her way through the living room. The front door opened just as she came around the corner, and Roy's voice filled her ears. She stood near the end of the couch, only feet from the door and took a moment to look him over. It was odd how hesitant she was suddenly feeling, as she'd been waiting on him to come home now for over a month. She pushed past the feeling and approached him with a sudden smile. That you are, she nodded, taking his coat and his briefcase from him. Her baby blond hair was cut into a bob and curled under just at her shoulders, something she hoped Roy would notice. Her mother had insisted she cut it earlier that month because her long hair made her look like a child. It had been a tough decision considering she'd worn the same style since college. She wasn't yet comfortable with the new style, but she did agree it was a modern update. I hope your drive was pleasant, she said awkwardly as she hung up his coat near the door. Small talk? It felt weird in her mouth. She wasn't exactly sure where to begin. She never was. He couldn't discuss most of his work with her, and she really didn't have much to tell him either. Eleanor couldn't imagine him having any interest in her mother's drama or the blue bonnets she'd planted in the backyard. She turned and leaned back against the door, afraid that he might leave just as fast as he'd arrived. Can I get you a drink? I made dinner earlier roast and red potatoes. I can throw it on the range if you're hungry, she said softly as she neared the couch once more and leaned against the end of it. The moment was going nothing like she had thought. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to throw her arms around him or introduce herself. The sad truth was that he'd spent more time at work than with her during their first year of marriage. She didn't quite have him figured out.