“See,” Paul said as he ran his hands over his face, “this is the kinda shit I be talking about. I told you that I’m trying to cram a whole bunch of shit into a small window of time. After I drop P.J. off, I gotta get the pieces ready for the show. I need a clear head for that, and going at it with you ain’t gonna help.”

“But Paul…”

“I gotta go, Mar.” He ducked back out of the office.

Marlene started to get up and follow him, but decided against it. She was in a very emotional state and didn’t trust herself not to do or say something rash. Instead, she sat back down and fumed. She wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum and wild out, but the grown woman in her kept her rooted to the chair. Placing her hands in her head, Marlene began to cry.

Paul didn’t understand how much he hurt her when he closed himself off that way. It made her feel like her needs weren’t as important as his. She was in his corner about any and everything, but she didn’t feel he was giving the same of himself. What he failed to realize was that Marlene was a woman in her golden years and needed more attention than the average female. She had gone through the days of angry walkouts and not speaking when she was in her twenties and didn’t have the strength to repeat the process with Paul. Some serious changes would have to be made if she intended to go all the way with him.

Marlene didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, but by the time the doorbell rang she had a splitting headache. At first she thought it might be Paul, but he had a key and therefore would have no reason to ring the bell. Audrey wouldn’t come over without calling, so she wondered who it could be.

As quietly as possible, she made her way to the front of the house. She peered through the curtains and saw a young Mexican man standing on her doorstep. He was dressed in a gray uniform and holding a cardboard tube and a rectangular box. Marlene opened the door and gave him a “what do you want?” look.

“Delivery,” he said in a heavy accent, holding out an invoice bearing her name.

Marlene handed him a five-dollar bill and accepted the packages. Strolling to the kitchen, she shook the tube, trying to figure out what it could be. There was a low, shifting sound, but it still didn’t reveal the contents. Placing the box and tube on the counter, she opened the envelope that held the card. There was no signature, but the note read:

Thank you for a wonderful evening.

Look forward to seeing you again soon.