Part 45

It was great to be home, but at the same time it was terrible. Sam had her sitting in the family room with her knitting to one side, the tv remote at the other, along with a bottle of water. The girls were being good, so that was one on the plus column. But the last time she attempted to do some writing Sam brought the kitchen timer over to her desk and gave her the look.

"What?" she barked, being stuck on the wording of a particularly long sentence.

"Three minutes."

"I'm sitting. It's just like sitting over there," she said pointing to her pink lazy boy thrown not ten feet away.

"Houseman said."

"I don't care what he said," sh e barked again.

Sam put the timer down and walked away. Her anger wasn't at him. It was really all about her senseless use of commas, and her insistence to write exactly how she spoke, on and on and on.
John was forever telling her to get to the point, and stick with it. This piece on Christmas cookies and the traditional cookie swap should have been wrapped up in the hospital. She selected to print the piece, pushed the keyboard away, pulled the copy out of the printer, then sought out Sam for forgiveness.

He was in the front hall.

"I'm sorry."

"You can't be this way for the next 25 weeks."

Charlotte knew what he was saying between the lines was: If she kept up this attitude that she would drive him right back to the bottle. She wouldn't become his excuse. "I won't accept the blame for your disease nor your choices." Why did Charlie and Angie have to go out of town now?

Sam bit his tongue. "I'm going out."

Charlotte didn't want to ask where. She didn't want know. Rubbing her head with her hand, pushing hard on her eyes, she shook her head okay. And as she watched her husband walk towards the door she called after him, I love you."

"I love you too, but right now I'm loving something more."

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