David came home, kissed her on the cheek and inhaled deeply. He smiled at her, that smile that could still make her heart melt.
“Smells good. What is it, lasagna?”
“Baked ziti,” Jessica said. “The recipe made more than I thought. I hope you’re hungry.”
They sat down to dinner and talked about his day over a glass of red wine. When he finished, he took his plate to the sink, rinsed it, placed it in the dishwasher. He was thoughtful that way. He kissed the top of her head and moved passed her and into the office, shutting the door behind him. She stayed at the table, swirling the last drops in her glass, then downed it in one gulp.
Jessica moved to the living room and turned on the T.V. She flipped through the channels but wasn’t in the mood for her usual shows. She didn’t need to see one more Idol voted off today, one more person’s shattered dreams broadcasted all across America. One more person *that* close — and never close enough.
She switched off the T.V. and stared at the closed door of the office. She’d been a dancer once. She’d been accepted to UC Berkeley, and David supported her, told her she was the most graceful thing he’d ever seen, said he’d never get tired of watching her move like something from his dreams. But then, she’d gotten pregnant and had to stop. Even after the miscarriage, David was protective and didn’t want her to dance again. She quit school, because what was the point? Five years and two more miscarriages later, and here she was, staring at the closed office door between them.
She pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed in small circles. She felt a migraine coming on. She went upstairs, took a few pills and crawled into bed. Tonight would be dreamless. She never dreamed anymore.
* * *
Today’s prompt: What have you accomplished in the last five years? If you enjoyed this story, please consider sharing it using the social media buttons below.