Monday night Mr. Right had a troubling time at work. Tuesday night, after the kids were put in bed, he passed by me in the hall and began talking about it.
He caught me cleaning the laundry room and continued talking about it.
He saw me by the stairs and started talking a little more.
Finally I said, "You know, I wish I could do something for you because I can tell you're really bothered."
"No" Mr. Right returned, "I just wanted to talk about it." So he shared a few more words and the subject changed and he went his way; up the stairs, and I went mine; into the kitchen.
Later he came back down dressed for another night at work. I was making a surprisingly difficult cupcake recipe. (Who knew cupcakes could be so involved?)
He slumped in a chair at the counter and looked vacantly at the TV which was keeping me company while I baked.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Mr. Right sighed, "I just don't feel like going back to work. I'd rather stay home."
Poor man. I wouldn't want to go to work right now. I'd rather stay home too. It's warm and peaceful and smells like cupcakes. Once again there was nothing I could say. Instead I asked, "Can you put this tray in the oven and turn the timer on for three minutes?"
He got up and did it and when he sat back down I asked, "When do you have to leave?"
"Three minutes."
I had three minutes too. "We could make out." I offered.
He gave a sad smile which I think meant no.
Mr. Right stared at the TV a minute more before he stood up and reached into the chocolate chip bag and grabbed a big handful. He put his arms around me to give me his goodbye hug.
I made it a long one. I held him real tight. I didn't let him go. He started to squirm. I knew he wanted to get those chocolate yummies in his mouth and he couldn't. I knew they were beginning to melt in his hand.
He knew I knew this.
He laughed.
I let go and saw him smile.
"Good-bye" he said with a lighter tone.
"Good-night." I returned, because really, everything else had been said.